#actually no the week after i got into a phd program but before i started second guessing myself . they would’ve said i had it together then | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sassypossumm · 25 days

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Finally

Art cred: mao0047 on X (they're really so good...)

FINALLY getting around to cleaning out my inbox, to the lovie that requested Professor!Miguel x Student this one's for you (made reader a TA grad student) MDNI TW: smut,brief mention of child's death, infidelity, P in V,degredation

"Professor? You in here?" Knocking on the heavy door, you frowned when you got no response.

He always did this.

Miguel O'Hara, stodgy genetics prof that he was, had a bad habit of falling down research rabbit holes. And when he did, you might as well have been dealing with the absent minded professor.

Sighing, you shoved open the door and stepped inside, immediately taken aback by the musty smell and horribly dim light. As your eyes adjusted to the light, your heart squeezed at the sight.

When you'd first started this TA program, you'd dreaded your assignment. Genetics?! You'd balked. What on earth did you know about genetics?!

Then you'd met your assigned professor.

Miguel O'Hara, genetics 101 prof. The man was a giant, disheveled, socially awkward, cerebral...teddy bear.

There was no other way to put it. One look at those wide, tired, gorgeous brown eyes and you knew you were sunk. Now, leaning against thr door frame, watching his hulking frame dwarf the dingy hole of an office, you couldn't stop the thundering of your heart.

You cleared your throat, and Miguel's head shot up. You stifled a smile at the way his glasses slid down his nose, and made note of the sheer exhaustion etched into his features. He looked far beyond his 38 years, in fact, he looked ready to be carved into the side of Mount Rushmore alongside the stony faced founding fathers.

"How long you been in here, Professor?" At your concerned tone, Miguel leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. Stepping into the space, you struggled to not let your eyes wander to the way his frame practically swallowed his chair as he man spread.

Sitting across from him, you busied yourself with papers as he ran a hand through his hair and groaned. You rubbed your thighs together, trying not to imagine what those gorgeous thighs of his might feel like braced on either side of you as you-

"Y/N?"

"Huh?" The sound of his voice shot through you, bringing you back to the present. Looking up, you met his eyes, and took in his expectant stare. Clearly he'd been trying to get your attention. Your cheeks heated at your foolish thoughts. Blinking hard, you pushed down the unrealistic notions.

There was no way a man like Miguel O'Hara would ever be interested in you. After all, hadn't you been throwing out hints half the semester.... and after that last poetry session you'd both attended...maybe Hobie was right...you were reading more into the lingering stares than was actually there.

"Yes, professor," You cleared your throat. "I'm sorry, I wasn't listening." Miguel gave you a tired smile and pulled off his bifocals.

"It's okay, Y/N. I remember my last week of finals before I received my PHD."

"Did you get your PHD before or after Fred Flinstone received his?" His eyes creased at the corners at your light banter.

"Before, you smart ass, who do you think tutored him?" He said with a conspiratorial grin. Of all the things you'd done and accomplished in thr past year, this was what you'd miss thr most.

The easy familiarity you and Miguel had slipped into. After papers were graded, and everything was organized, you'd occasionally relax and just... talk. Over a cup of coffee, and even at his house once or twice, you'd just talk.

It was crazy to think just how familiar you'd become with his life. Over the past several months, he'd begun opening up more and more. About his first girlfriend, how he'd left her for his brother's girlfriend. You'd been struck at the thought of the Miguel you knew cheating on anybody...it seemed such an alien idea.

Then he'd shown you the pictures of his daughter, Gabi. The daughter who'd been cruelly taken from him in a car accident. Your heart had broke. To have something so tragic happen, and then to top it off, his wife blamed him for the whole thing.

Youd tried to assure him that it clearly hadn't been his fault, but he'd stiffened and shook off your attempts. On thst one, you'd backed down. He'd put up a clear boundary, and you hadn't wanted to push him away.

Miguel, however, had no qualms about dragging his ex wife through the verbal mud, and venomously at that. From the way he spoke, it was obvious he had no remaining good will for the woman who'd blamed him for his daughters death, and insulted him at every turn for his supposed 'giving up' when he'd begun gaining weight.

Your blood still boiled when you thought about it. The woman was hurting, but that hadn't given her thr right to hurt Miguel. Righteous indignation burned in your belly as you looked at the tured, beautiful man across from you.

He deserved the world.

"Professor,"

"Please, Miguel, we're practically colleagues." He said, stretching his arms above his head.

Now that was odd...

Miguel had always been very strict about remaining professional. Come to think of it, he'd been calling you by your first name since you'd entered... maybe...

"Professor, I don't think that's very," he cut you off with a pointed look.

"Next fall you'll be just as much a professor as I am."

"Shakespearean Poetry and the Romantics can hardly be considered of equal value to genetics." You balk, but not for long. Miguel leaned forward and looked at you intently.

"Poetry is just as valuable as genetics, if not more so." You opened your mouth to argue, but the look in his eyes quieted you. The eyes were thr same, that visible exhaustion seemed a permanent addition to his features, but there was something...something different.

There was an unfamiliar intensity dancing in those deep pools of brown you'd fallen for. Before, you'd adoring thought of his eyes like those of a big puppy, but now...now the only phrase that came to mind was 'bedroom eyes'. You shivered at both the thought, and the electricity you felt growing between you.

On your end, you'd always known that draw existed,but youd never dreamt this giant teddy bear felt the same.

"Professor," Your tone was breathy. His brow raised slightly.

"Miguel." He instructed simply. Your tongue stuck to the rood of your mouth, and your skin grew warmer.

"Miguel." You murmured. He hummed, and you felt a thrill of pride run of your spine at the idea that you'd pleased him. "What, um, what is, what are we," He silenced you with another seerimg look.

"I'm socially awkward, Y/N," he gave you a warm smile. "But not entirely oblivious." Sliding his hand across the table, he grazed your fingers with his thumb. "I'd have to be entirely ignorant to ignore this...spark, if you will, that exists between us."

You shuddered at the contact, your eyes fluttering shut at his husky tone. A deep rumble went through his chest and he raised your fingers to his lips.

"Why wait so long?" You chanced a look at him, and felt your breathing shallow. He smiled against your fingers, and drew your thumb into his mouth, sucking softly, before withdrawing it, nipping the tip teasingly.

Where on earth did this man come from, and what had he done with your Miguel?

"For one thing, it hardly seemed prudent to risk either of our positions for something that was so clearly more than a one time fuck." He said calmly, turning over your hand to kiss thr inside of your wrist. You shuddered at his calculated tone and bit back a sound.

"You don't want to fuck me?" Your voice wavered, the words no more than a breath. Miguel's eyes darkened, and a predatory grin slowly morphed his features from placid genetics teacher to something...lewder.

"Oh, I want to fuck you, hermosa." He purred, sucking at your fluttering pulse point. "But I also want to make love to you, decadently." His lips dance up your arm. "Voraciously."

He stands, leaning over the table to dwarf you completely, pressing delicate kisses along your shoulder and up your neck. "Over. And over. And over again." His voice rumbles low in your ear, sending tendrils of arousal straight to your core.

Your head falls to the side, invitingly. You're not entirely certain what's come over him, but you're not about to question it. A whimper escapes your mouth as he finally turns your face up towards his with a firm hand on your jaw.

"For another thing," he breathed against your lips. "I wanted to see who'd break first."

"You." His lips quirk momentarily at your quip.

"Si, nena. You prove to be quite stubborn." He growls the final word before capturing your lips with his. You moan softly, and when his tongue brushes against yours, you surrender completely.

Whining desperately, you rake your fingers through his hair and tug wantonly at his shirt as his tongue expertly coaxed a litenty of primal praises from your throat. His hand slid down your jaw to enclose gently around your throat, and he groaned as your moans and whimpers sent vibrations through his fingers.

You trid tugging him across the desk, but Miguel simply grunted, tearing his mouth away from yours to press bruising sucks and kisses down the column of your throat. You whined at began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Ah-ah" Miguel growled, catching your hand in his. Biting down on your collar bone, he pulled back and looked at you. "Greedy little thing... we do this my way."

His way meant bending you over the desk, wrists held behind your back in one of his large hands as he took you mercilessly from behind.

"Th-this the fucking you mentioned?" You panted between thrusts, groaning when the base of his cock grazed your clit. Miguel hissed at the way your walls fluttered in response to the stimulation and slowed his pace, wrapping his free hand around the back of your neck, pushing your further into the desks surface.

"Callarse la boca." He grunted, picking up his speed. Miguel's hips slapped against your ass, accompanied by his occasional moan and your profuse broken sounds of pleasure. The erotic sounds seemed to spur him on, and his grip on your neck tightened as he released your wrists to slap your ass soundly. You cried out, clenching around his deliciously hard cock.

"You like that?" He growled, slapping your ass again. "You like being fucked like a slut?" Your eyes squeezed shut and you moaned. He reased your neck and gripped your hair, turning your face roughly as he continued steadily pounding into you.

"Answer me." He hissed, slapping your ass again. You like being fucked like this? Like my own personal cock sleeve?" Your breathing was labored and you moaned weakly. You could feel the veins of his cock as he brushed passed your g-spot with ever thrust.

"I, Uh-huh, so good, Miggy...." He groaned at your needy tone. "Please, need, need it, so bad..." You whimpered, thrumming and flushed, teetering on the edge of climax.

"Shhh. I got you, bebita. I'll give you what you need." He shushed you, pressing a tender kiss to your temple before grabbing your hips and pulling you back into his thrusts. You cried out as his cock bullied your clit and pussy with quick rhythmic thrusts.

"I'm gonna, Migs," You babbled, scrambling for purchase on anything to cling to. Folding himself over you, Miguel laced his hands over yours and murmured nonsensical praises in your ear, not letting up on his punishing pace.

"Let go, I got you."

With those words, you toppled over the edge, twitching and shuddering as you came all over his cock, and went boneless against the desks surface, lost in a haze of white hot pleasure as your walls clamped around his cock like a vice. Miguel groaned and his hips stuttered before his cock twitched, and he came soon after you, filling the condom with his cum.

Sighing heavily, Miguel scooped you into his arms before flopping back in his chair. Cleanup and damage control would be a job for later. Right now, you were sat, warm and sated in his arms.

And that was enough for him.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel imagine #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x y/n #Professor Miguel #Sassy requests

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love-to-love-puppies · 1 year

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Been on a bit of a Family Breakfast kick so here are some headcanons from a fic I started that I may or may not actually finish. But in case I never do I wanted to share some of my thoughts on it with y'all, so here's a little something for the Dannymay 2023 free day. Enjoy!

Maddie and Jack are high school sweethearts and started dating when they were 14

When they started college they both were always very open about their sexualities and were not monogamous

As a result they developed a bit of a reputation

Between that and the 'ghost hunter' thing they didn't have an easy time making friends

Vlad met them separately and had no idea about said reputation. Jack was his biology partner, Maddie was his chemistry partner freshman year

He hit it off with both of them immediately and had a crush on Maddie from the beginning, though he didn't have a friendship with Jack outside of class-related stuff

He started dating Maddie shortly after they returned from winter break

He'd heard Jack mention his girlfriend Maddie, but it's a common name and he didn't actually think it was the same girlfriend. And the only times he'd been around Jack outside of class, were times Maddie wasn't there

Towards the end of the year Jack asks Vlad if he wants to be his roommate the following year

Jack absolutely considered Vlad his best friend in college and Vlad was surprised since they'd never actually hung out

But Vlad wasn't exactly great at making friends either and hadn't been getting along with his roommate, so he agreed

But they both decided it was probably a good idea to actually hang out and get to know each other outside of class first

Which is when he walks into the bar and realizes that Jack's girlfriend Maddie is his girlfriend Maddie

He makes an excuse to leave and confronts her about it after class the next day

Maddie and Jack had both assumed he knew and had assumed the other one told him

Once it was established that there was no cheating or hurt feelings, things continue on

InexperiencedVirgin!Vlad

He'd had been raised in a very strict household where non-monogamy and homosexuality would not have been tolerated, so Jack and Maddie had a lot to teach him

But because of how he was raised he fought hard against it when he began to realize he was developing feelings for and attraction to Jack

Jack had been kind of shamelessly flirting with him from the beginning (because he shamelessly flirted with everyone) and eventually Vlad started to reciprocate

He was finally forced to admit his feelings for Jack during their sophomore year, and they began dating too, in secret, because Vlad was absolutely terrified of what his father would do if he found out

The three of them maintained their relationship the remaining years of undergrad and through their PhD program

The portal was their final dissertation project (meaning Vlad never actually got his PhD because of the accident, but Jack and Maddie did)

After the accident, Vlad was in quarantine the entire time he was in the hospital but no one told him that, so Jack and Maddie could not go see him

Maddie found out she was pregnant with Jazz a week after Vlad was admitted to the hospital, not knowing who's she was (yeah, yeah, I know the date on the newspaper. I'm choosing to ignore that tiny aspect of canon). If we assume that the year on yearbook was from their senior year of undergrad, the math can make sense

Vlad was in the hospital for 14 months (so he's a bit dramatic when he says 'all those years in the hospital')

Maddie and Jack reach out the minute Vlad is released, because in truth they'd never stopped trying to see him. A very pregnant Maddie had been dragged out of the hospital by security for trying to skirt around them

But Vlad had been stewing on the fact that his partners had abandoned him for over a year. And he found out they were married before they had the chance to tell him about why they'd gotten married

They'd only gotten married because they couldn't afford to take care of Jazz without help and Jack's family wouldn't provide any financial support unless they got married so that Jazz wouldn't be born out of wedlock

But regardless, he blows up on them and refuses to speak to them after, and his behavior is so extreme and honestly terrifying that Maddie and Jack make the decision not to tell him about Jazz, afraid of what he might do

Cannon takes over from here and Vlad had needed someone to blame and managed to suppress most of his feelings for Jack and accidentally turned him into the villain of his life

Jazz had been held back, not because of her intelligence but because she was a little socially behind, so Vlad assumed she was 17, not 18 based on her class year and had never thought to check when her actual birth year was or considered that she might be his

Vlad still has panic attacks whenever he goes to the doctor and seeks therapy to stop that, realizing that he actually didn't remember much of his time at the hospital

The therapist leads him through EMDR and a bunch of sexy memories of Jack and Maddie but mostly Jack start coming back, because those were the ones he'd repressed the most (He couldn't both love and hate Jack, so his brain had picked the less painful option)

But he's still no closer to actually unlocking the memories in the hospital and finding the cause of his panic attacks so his therapist recommends he reach out to the doctor who treated him

The doctor not only reveals that Vlad was under strict quarantine the entire time, but that Maddie and Jack had been in the waiting room every single day. And that Maddie was very pregnant during that time

Vlad realizes he fucked up. Big time. His partners had never abandoned him and everything he'd led himself to believe for the past eighteen years was a lie and that he deeply misses them both and that he was still in love with them

He realizes that he needs to tell them the truth. Like, all of it. Everything he had done and apologize for it, knowing full-well they may never forgive him

He actually goes to Danny first to apologize and warn him, because he cannot tell the whole truth without also exposing him

Naturally Danny is not thrilled about it but Vlad is clearly not asking for his permission so he prepares himself for the inevitability of his parents knowing the truth

Vlad goes to apologize and tells Maddie and Jack the whole truth and Danny's secret is revealed in the process

Jack forgives Vlad immediately

Maddie...needs a few minutes

But eventually she does decide to forgive him

They also have also known Jazz was Vlad's since practically the moment she was born and tell him as much

He asks them for the opportunity to make things right and prove he's still the man they fell in love with and...maybe fall in love again

And Maddie and Jack who really never stopped loving him, despite everything that happened, decide to give him the chance

Hope you enjoyed it! Like I said, I may or may not ever actually finish the fic but feel free to use any and all of these ideas in your own

#family breakfast #dannymay 2023 #vlad/maddie/jack #madvlapjack #college trio #pacqueen #vlad masters #maddie fenton #jack fenton #danny phantom

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wttcsms · 2 months

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sorry if you're not comfortable answering this, but I saw you say that you've been diagnosed with depression. how did you know when to seek help?

tl;dr: from a young age, i never lived a healthy lifestyle with an easy pace. i (and maybe even my family) put too much pressure on me, and i never really coped with it in a healthy manner. my attempt at handling things "with ease" and "not stressing" was actually just me bottling up my emotions, and it's not until things started getting really bad that i finally sought help.

nothing uncomfy abt it at all! discussion of mental health is pretty important! tbh, i never thought i would have depression or be diagnosed with it; i started showing symptoms for around a year before i started really thinking to myself, hey, i think there might be something up with me mentally and this isn't just some silly, quirky thing i'm going through. ever since i was around 18, i went through great lengths to ensure i would achieve maximum academic success but while being a full-time college student and consistently working 60+ hours a week (70+ during the summer bc my junior year internship was so intense; i also went to college 2 years early, so i think that's when the internal pressure to "do well in life" began) was taking a massive toll on me mentally and physically. i would survive off of 4-5 hours of sleep, consume concerning amounts of caffeine, i was losing hair, i was losing drastic amounts of weight, i was breaking out and breaking down, and even when i got better, i still wasn't fully ever healed from that experience purely bc my schedule just never slowed down.

i am still a full-time student, i am still working 7 days a week, leading to 60+ hours (40 hours internship, 20 hours at my weekend part-time job). on top of that, i am in the second to last semester of my grad school, i help out around the house bc after my older sister moved out, i took over the eldest daughter duties, i am still holding myself to a very high standard academically (already planning to apply to phd programs, studying for the cpa exam, already have another summer internship lined up). i knew things were getting bad because 1) i am finally older (im abt to turn 21! yay!) and i realized that the lifestyle i'm living isn't healthy and 2) a lot of my behaviors didn't feel "normal" to me anymore. it finally hit me around two months ago, when i realized that i sort of lost my love for fanfiction. i've been in a weird mood where i didn't want to read any fanfic whatsoever, but i chalked it up to being "too busy" and focused on other things. when i couldn't even find the energy to read my own mutual's fanfic, i knew something was up bc i always try to power through and remain enthusiastic on my friends' behalf. more behaviors that were a cause for concern:

my disinterest in everything that brought me joy previously. sweet treats at the end of the day, coffee before work, buying makeup from sephora, cleaning my room (sounds silly, but i love having a clean living space and cleaning my room used to be a source of peace and joy for me), writing fanfiction, reading books, watching youtube videos, catching up on shows that would release weekly and that i used to count down the days to watch — none of it held my interest. i wasn't excited, i didn't care.

it wasn't just a lack of joy from things i loved, either. rejections from programs i looked forward to/rejections from opportunities, abysmal grades in class, looming deadlines that i most likely wouldn't make, growing assignments on my work to-do list; none of this elicited a reaction from me. there was no stress (that i was feeling; subconsciously, i think the stress was still there and i just refused to acknowledge it), but there also wasn't disappointment or sadness. i had no emotional response to anything, and that was very concerning to me, and the main reason i contacted my sister and then her boyfriend (who is a licensed psychiatrist)

i could sleep for 12+ hours a day. there are many days in the week where all i want to do is rot in bed. not even in a "go on my phone and dick around in bed" type of way, either. i would have certain days where i couldn't leave the bed. sometimes, i wouldn't even feel tired, but i would just sleep. my internship is wfh and if it was a slow day with no assignments, i would clock in and spend that whole day in my bed, sleeping. it got to the point where i wish work was busy so i would have something to force me out of bed. yes, i would be aware of my tiredness sometimes, but this felt different altogether. i just wanted to basically hibernate lol.

i had constant headaches. i thought it was because of the nature of my job, where i look at computer screens all day, or maybe it was bc i wasn't drinking enough water. i would also get unexplainable cramps sometimes.

tmi, but little to no pleasure and an extreme decline in interest in sex

i had extreme issues with focusing on work and studying; a lot of my work (and school materials) centers around thinking through problems and applying tax law or guidance to certain situations.

my diet fluctuated; some days, i wouldn't want to eat, yesterday, i gorged myself on food, eating to the point where even i had to pause and go wtf.

not very often was i randomly sad, nor did i ever want to kill myself or self-harm; when i was a teenager (17/18) and probably showing signs of depression, i was very irritable, angry, sad, and had suicidal thoughts, thought i was worthless, an idiot, etc. however, i mostly just feel empty and apathetic during my episodes now.

what helped me seek help was knowing that my behaviors and how i was feeling didn't feel healthy, but also, my best friend recently shared her diagnosis with me and i would have never thought she would be depressed. my sister's bf was also a major help in getting me comfortable to consider the possibility of having a mental illness and also in finding someone to talk to. hope this helps!

edit: forgot to mention it, but i exhibited many/all of those symptoms for around the past 3 months before ever seeking help. those behaviors started manifesting tremendously and seriously disrupting my daily life, and i knew i needed to do something to get my life back on track.

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bettsfic · 6 months

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(Love on Display is the series name for ASE and its sequel)

okay so for this commentary i went through my ASE tag to read the asks i'd gotten about it because i can't really remember the whole process, and found this response i'd written:

you know how like when you read or watch something, you kind of look for the character you relate to most? when i was rereading the hunger games last month i was thinking, i don’t relate to a single one of you bitches. and then annie shows up like “nope nope nope i can handle exactly 0% of this bullshit” and i was just, ah there i am

looking back on my mental health issues, the irony is that i was writing about madness in a time i was actually pretty stable, despite the pandemic being in full swing. i remember writing ASE throughout summer, sitting on my grandma's porch swing and admiring her garden, going inside only when it got dark enough for the fireflies to come out. at the time, i was approaching my third year of rejections on the original fiction front; i'd been querying agents for over a year and submitting short stories, and i felt like i wasn't getting anywhere. i was also about to start a phd program, which i was apprehensive about, to say the least. i wish i'd listened to that "i have a bad feeling about this" instinct.

tbosas had just come out (to almost no attention or acclaim; even now with the film coming out in a couple weeks, the gifsets i've been reblogging don't get a lot of traffic and the tag only has 250 fics in it) and so i read it, loved it, and immediately re-read the hunger games with the new lens of snow's origin story.

the hunger games is one of the few things that i think is completely worth the hype. it's a beautifully written series and i really admire it. tbosas i thought was even better, because it felt like suzanne collins had full creative control. it's not easy writing a villain origin story and i think she really managed to thread the needle with coriolanus as a POV character who is really the antagonist of two protagonists whose POVs we don't have access to.

anyway as soon as i finished re-reading the hunger games, i went back to read the one thg fic i'd written after the film series concluded, the baker's son. it wasn't as bad as i remembered it, because 2015-16 were the years i was really starting to figure out how to write, so everything from that time in my memory is hand-wavy at best. but i remember thinking, this could have been really good if i'd just taken my time with it.

back then, i never took my time with anything. i had so many ideas that i had to churn through them in order to get to the next one. when you're just starting out writing, you haven't followed through on enough ideas to know how to sort through them properly and find the ones that have legs. so i was still learning how to control my attention.

and so ASE marked a huge change in the way i viewed my own work and the reception thereof. i was getting nowhere in publishing, i was no longer in one single fandom and so i didn't really have a community, and i finally realized the only guarantee i would ever have is my own joy. that changed everything.

i know i'll always love the hunger games, because i genuinely believe it's good. it's engaging and entertaining and meaningful. before, i'd written for canons i actually didn't like, because communities had formed around them and i was inspired by what i felt was unmet potential in canon. but i know i'll never rewatch supernatural or the 100. in fact i didn't finish either of them. with big fandoms, sure, i get more traffic and comments. but i'd stopped writing for traffic and comments. i wrote ASE because it was fun, and i knew in 10 years i'd read the hunger games again, and i would want my perfect fixit fic. and i would want it to be long, and well thought out, and something i could be proud of.

i've kept that "i'm writing for my 40 year old self" mentality for all my writing. at 40, i want to look back at what i wrote at 30 and know it was time well spent because it made me happy during a hard time in human history. it's a lot easier to make creative decisions when you're writing for an audience of your future self.

with tbosas coming out soon, i'm hoping to finish the coriojanus fic i started in 2020 (i think it's 7k?). and looking back through my ASE tag i also saw how many ideas i had for finnick POV and i could see myself fiddling around with a few of those prompts eventually.

#ase #tbosas #bomb time

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corruptedplaylist · 3 months

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act iii: final notes

edit: 4/9/2024: added some more stuff!!! i'll put this emoji 🫧 next to the new things so u know where to scroll.

AHHHHHHHHHHHH I FINISHED MY FIRST FULL LENGTH FIC HOLD ON LEMME JUST THROW UP IN THE CORNER REAL QUICK

i am sooooooo normal rn anyways let's get into it thank u for having me on the show, mr. kimmel. i've had a raging headache all day so the content underneath each sections will be kinda short. i'll go through and add more to it once i recover but i wanted to get this up before the week got too busy!

krolia

guys…. im so sorry for the angst….. it was necessary for the plot…….

maybe it’s just me projecting but in the actual show, i kind of wish we had seen more of the emotional fallout that occurred after krolia revealed that she was keith’s mom. because let’s be real here, there’s no way that keith’s traumatized ass would just willingly accept her back into his life. he’d have questions. he’d be in disbelief. it’s hard for him to open up to others and he carries a lot of hurt from being abandoned.

it was crucial in the course of this fic to have that confrontation between krolia and keith. it's not always going to be rainbows and sunshine, and even though they both missed each other deeply, you don't just automatically connect and forget everything that's happened. even if keith hadn't gone into the foster system, he definitely would have carried a lot of anger and hurt towards krolia when she shows back up. i'm sure that things won't just be smooth sailing and they'll need to hash things out multiple times as they rebuild their relationship but that first fight was a big hurdle to get over.

if you’re curious, i have a whooollleeee backstory for what happened with krolia and why she couldn’t get back to her kid. i couldn’t really fit it into the fic but i’ll put it right here for those who are interested:

2000: krolia in the US on student visa, first year of of PhD program

krolia meets heath and they fall in love

2003: krolia gives birth to keith

2008: krolia finishes grad school/PhD program/doctoral degree and applies for a work visa

2009: she and heath and baby keith are living their life but krolia’s parents find out and are like girl you need to come home NOW or we will disown you

krolia’s family are really wealthy and powerful

krolia: i’ll come back for you guys idk how but i will

krolia goes back to the states

2009-2011: she and heath write letters but then the letters start getting intercepted by the family and eventually peters out

krolia in arranged marriage and thinks her partner forgot about her or didn’t care

meanwhile heath doesn’t know what happened to krolia but can’t do anything about it bc she’s in a diff country and he doesn’t speak korean

2011: heath and keith move to texas for job or whatever

heath tells keith all about krolia and how she loves him but can’t be there and obvi that fucks keith up bc he misses his mom but where tf is she? how does he know she loves him if she’s not even there? he's a little kid

2013: heath dies and keith is put into the system

heath has no other family members

krolia put her english name on the birth certificate and so ofc she doesn’t exist in the US

texas social services try to reach out to krolia along with some friends but letters are intercepted

2016: someone reaches out to krolia after she finally gets facebook

friend: thinking of you. miss you. so sorry about heath

krolia: …. what the fuck about heath?

friend: uhhhhhhhh

krolia goes on rampage to her family like wtf u mean u didn’t tell me that the father of my child is dead

cousin shows up with the intercepted letters (official notice from social services, heath’s letters and pictures, keith’s little notes and drawings)

krolia starts the process of legally and financially emancipating herself from her family (she basically was Britney’d)

2017/2018: finally is free and able to get a job in the states

starts tracking down heath (they only had a forwarding address for krolia so they’re like wtf who is this bih)

at this point, keith has already met the shiroganes and changed his name

krolia is in a different state and can only do so much

spends the next few years trying to find him, hires P.I., again keep running into blocks bc social workers and case managers are NOT going to budge on giving up keith's personal information

2023, winter break: krolia reaches out to keith through facebook but it goes into his spam since they’re not facebook friends

allura

what better allegory for sacrificing yourself to save the universe is there than graduating college? in all fairness, i felt like sticking to the notion of allura saying goodbye and leaving the group had its merit, just y’know, i wanted to take a step down from the whole dying thing. i tried to pay homage to the canon material as much as possible while also providing my own spin on things.

one thing that’s been important to me is depicting allura as a college student. sure, while i think most iterations of allura as a kind and a great leader and intelligent are great, even in modern au fics, i just wish there had been a bit more... silliness? outside of her being like the girlboss, the hell yeah supporting character or love interest or bone-tired leader, i always wonder what she would have been like if she hadn't had to save the universe and was just trying to heal on her own terms. yeah, i nerfed her parents in this universe but i tried to showcase her doing normal college things as well, like presenting at research conferences, getting a bit messy drunk, having pizza nights and group hang outs. the funny thing about grief is that life does not stop for it, so you have to just figure things out along the way.

i also didn't want to elaborate too much on her relationship with lotor. she didn't magically heal from that one conversation with lance in chapter 8 but i wanted the readers to get a taste of what was going on in her head through their dialogue. plus, it was a little moment to show how she was allowing herself to open up to other people like lance. no one woman is an island, no matter how much of a bad b!tch you are.

🫧 also, i wanted to include it somewhere but basically, keith knew allura and romelle were hooking up since chapter 14! keith caught romelle sneaking out of allura's room early one morning and he just kept it to himself because snitches get stitches.

pidge

they are so precious to me. they're an amalgamation of 2 of my closest friends, and well, me.

i always knew that pidge was going to be a super important piece in klance development. while lance and keith are great friends, i think pidge played a crucial role in bridging them together in the beginning, before the two of them had cleared up their misunderstandings and made that truce. sure, allura asked them to be on the paintball team but pidge really forced the two of them into close quarters. lance might have extended the offer to keith to hand out without pidge or he might not have. honestly, i'm not really sure. but pidge inviting keith to hang out in chapter 4 was a quiet but big moment because both keith and lance are friends with pidge and will set aside their differences long enough to tolerate each other's presence in a shared space. pidge just has #babyofthefriendgroup privileges.

🫧 i honestly think that after the main two, pidge has undergone the most growth (physically and emotionally) throughout the fic, even though they're a supporting character. we can all benefit from community and friendship but i think pidge needed it a little bit more.

🫧 i partially wrote pidge to represent my younger self, especially when i first attended college. i was scared and alone and i had never been away from home and it was a struggle to form new relationships (and figure out my gender identity. mannnnnn fuck that). it was nice to see pidge find their place and niche among the greater social fabric of college, kind of like comforting my younger self for all the loneliness and uncertainty i endured.

hunk

i love hunk so dearly. ngl, i wanted him to have a bigger arc than he did but hopefully i did a decent job at making feel more well-rounded as a supporting character. i decided to actually kind of lean into this distance in the later chapters as well, esp from lance's pov, as they both got busier. at the end of the day, though, i knew that those two would come back together. hunk is a kind and sympathetic friend and his and lance's friendship will persevere because they're good communicators. their little talk in chapter 17 was me talking to myself and to anyone else who has went through a similar thing where they find themselves drifting a little farther from a friend.

people get busy and that's okay! there will be ebbs and flows in every relationship. even though shared history is a crucial part of a friendship but it can't be the only thing that will keep it going. you need to nurture it and tend to it in order for it to keep it alive and flourishing. hunk understands this and he and lance will be just fine after their talk. hunk is probably the most emotionally intelligent person after adam in the group, and i'm glad he was there to help both lance and keith out when they needed it.

adam

this man!!!!! got i have gotten so fucking attached to adam throughout this fic. he is so dear to me. i know in chapter 10 i wrote from adam's pov and he's a goofy guy in his twenties who's just trying to be a good dad friend but somehow he ended up being a voice of reason and comfort for klance in this fic. lance misses his family a lot and i think adam can not only relate to lance with the homesickness but also lance has started to rely on him a bit like he would with his siblings.

i wanted to try my own spin on adam and keith's relationship. i've seen fics where adam and keith hate each other, don't interact much, or adam takes on a parenting role towards keith as a kid. i wanted to look at keith and adam in the context of two people who both love shiro and then grow to be good friends/surrogate brother-in-law? idk. long story short, adam is very emotionally intelligent and i think he genuinely wanted to get to know keith outside of his connection with shiro and was patient enough to coax keith out of his shell. i tried to write in small ways adam takes care of keith like giving him LactoJoys because Keith likes the taste better than Lactaids, being there for him for his panic attack, adding food to his plate. things that won't draw too much attention, because we all know how keith is about receiving acts of kindness.

i mentioned this in a comment under one of the chapters but all of the advice adam gives keith is either advice i personally received myself or something i wish i could tell my younger self. i hope those words bring you comfort as well!

shiro

i had a lot more planned for shiro but goddammit i had no fucking time or space at this panned out. it's more so klance's story than shiro's.

look, there's a small moment in chapter 18 where shiro is very pleased (and a little surprised) that keith has talked about him with krolia. it has less to do with his faith in keith and more with how he sees himself. shiro has already acknowledged that he has heavy imposter syndrome and deals with his own struggles with self image. it's just always a jolt to your system when someone (could be your own family or your partner of years) validates your relationship.

shiro loves keith very much and just wants to be the best big brother. he has such eldest child syndrome, where he tries to pretend that everything is fine even though things are actually crumbling around him. the thing is, though, you can't build intimacy— real, lasting intimacy and depth in a relationship— without being vulnerable. shiro understands that even though he wants keith to work on opening up, he has to do the same and reciprocate the actions, or else neither of them will really get anywhere and be stuck in that loop of "are you mad at me/i feel like you're hiding something from me/i don't really know who you are."

i tried writing a bit from shiro's pov but i quickly realized that that would drastically change the tone of the fic so i had to scrap it. i might post a little oneshot in the distant future with adashi, though.

keith

🫧 i've talked about this before but although i think keith grew the most as a character in the canon show, that shit was WAY too fast and off-screen. also, i know that the whole found family trope is what drew a lot of fans to voltron in the first place (like me) but is the found family in the room with us rn? i felt like they all started to fall apart or at least weren't as close as the show wanted us to believe. it felt a lot like telling with no showing. other than some occasional moments in the show, the whole #teamasfamily felt hollow.

🫧 i wanted to build on this potential found family for keith's character. he's never had a support system before and he's used to pushing people away but now he has a whole ass friend group that's ready to fight for him if he gives the word.

🫧 initially, when i was writing keith's pov and trying to get a feel for his voice and tone, i struggled a bit. keith is one of those characters that i liked and sympathized with, but getting into his head was a whole different story. i'm more of a lance kinnie but once i got the hand of keith's voice, it was a lot easier. some of my best pieces of writing are from keith's pov! i tried to be as cognizant of keith's development as much as possible as i wrote (think me having various checkpoints for his journey whereas with lance i could just coast on vibes), and i'm pleased with how far he's come.

🫧 although both keith and lance's progress can showcased through their consciousness and thoughts (like duh ur reading from their povs), i leaned into keith's behavior as a way to portray his progress a bit more than lance. things like him being more open to physical affection, not sitting on the outskirts of group dynamics and sticking to shiro, and allowing himself to collect things, which by the way:

🫧 i like the idea of keith's room, once being so empty and ghost-like, is now full of stuff, mementos of his relationships that he's built. i tried to sprinkle in some relics from past chapters (paintball flag, polaroids, ticket stubs), as well add some new tidbits, like shiro giving him a cacti and that korean cookbook!

proud of u, keith bby <3

lance and marco

no i did not just torture lance for the sake of torturing him i would never do that to my boy.

i know this is a fanfiction, but from the start, i wanted to ground this fic in reality and breathe some life into it. lance's little arc with his brother having a substance abuse problem was loosely inspired by events in my personal life.

🫧 i'm not saying that everyone goes through something as drastic as a loved one going to rehab, but as young adults, when we leave home for uni, jobs, other opportunities, etc, there's this worry that something bad will happen while we're away. and often times it does. someone gets sick, a beloved pet passes away, it's all bound to happen. your childhood becomes a thing of the past, and things that you thought would stay the same just won't.

i projected a lot of my feelings onto lance ngl, and writing him work through his own grief and guilt over not being able to be with his family when they're going through a crisis helped me process a little bit more.

although lance had a happier ending than a lot of families might get in reality, i still wanted to show lance having a support system at college and realizing that he has a second family to lean on, and people who love and support him. he doesn't have to pretend to be okay for anyone and that's okay.

black paladin lance or as close to it as i could get

it was so important for me to make lance the new captain of their paintball team, as a stand-in for the black paladin arc he could have had in the show. he’s always been a selfless guy who puts others first and really pulls up when he needs to. he deserves to be recognized for that. not only did every single one of his friends validate him, but the person he looks up to the most literally endorsed him. lance struggles with his inferiority complex and the election scene was a little feel good moment for me, personally, so that he could receive the acknowledgement he deserves, especially with his growth. he's gonna be an awesome team captain (he'll be shuffling down to shiro's room at 2am covered in hickeys and talking about paintball strategies).

wrapping up loose ends

i tried to wrap up as many loose ends as possible and give all the characters a proper send-off. originally i wanted lance and hunk to also move into the house in castle street, like repurpose the basement or something but i realized that that just wasn’t possible because most college basements don’t even have heating or like,,,, a livable arrangement.

ultimately, i think it makes sense for pidge to be the one to take up allura’s room at the house. pidge has lived a single during the academic year but they also had lance and hunk right fifty feet away so it’s not like they REALLY lived alone that year. there was also the logistics of the house having a vacant room, and as much as i would have loved to have all of voltron under the same roof (hunk and pidge sharing a room, keith and lance sharing a room), i think they would kill each other. pidge filling in the gap felt like the right move. and lance and hunk are gonna be over a lot anyways, so it’s not like much has changed in the trio's group dynamic.

🫧 what was your favorite chapter to write?

i think i have different chapters in mind for different reasons, even if it's a copout answer. here are the chapters that are dearest to me:

chapter 4: recalibration this is the chapter where i really got to play around with character interactions. keith and lance's worlds were beginning to integrate in chapter 3 but in this chapter, i got to explore different friendships, like keith & pidge and lance & hunk, and the dynamics they entailed. you can see how important these friendships are to both lance and keith, and how their connection with others eventually helps them to reflect on their previous feelings toward each other, like "hmm maybe i've been too harsh with the other."

chapter 10: let's go to the beach the group dynamics were so solidified to this point, and it was so fun to write. i loved writing from adam's pov and being able to zoom out and showcase klance's relationship progression.

the winter break interludes i waxed poetic about these in a previous faq but to reiterate: i'm really pleased with the way each individual chapter turned out. i love a good character study, and it was a great challenge to my writing and characterization to dig deeper into their home lives and see how the past confronted the present, where their respective childhoods were brought into the light, and how long-held notions of belonging, home, and identity were challenged and remolded.

chapter 17: warm and light my beta reader drunkenguac said that this was some of my best writing and i've been coasting off of that validation for the past 4 months. keith's reunion with his mother was especially cathartic for me. as an adoptee, writing this chapter honestly helped me work through some of my feelings about my adoption as i pictured what it would look like if i was ever reunited with my birth mother. i'm very fortunate that i didn't have to go through the same experiences keith did, but i tried to imbue as much humanness as possible into his section.

chapter 18: moving on it just felt like a proper send-off, the one that we never got from s8 of voltron. i wanted the last chapter to basically have this vibe of "hey, things won't be the same but it's going to be okay because we have each other." when shiro tells matt in the end, "we'll still be here," that's me as the author, telling you, the reader, that this fic will still be here whenever you want to revisit it. it was a comfort to write and i've heard that it's a comfort to read, which is so so so gratifying. when i set out to write this fic in august of 2023, i didn't have any plans of grandeur or even expect like more than 100 people read it— it was just a passion project that i decided to share, and i'm glad that others have sought safety in it. outside of fandom, this fic is a love letter to my own college experience. i remember reading a college au fic when i was still in high school and lonely and closeted and repressed and wondering if i would ever be able to get out of my hometown and find a community as tightly-knit as the fic portrayed it. in a way, i got to reflect on my college experience by writing looking out for you. i find solace in this fic when i read back over it, and i can see aspects of my adventures throughout my freshman and sophomore and junior and senior years, waving from behind a thinly veiled curtain.

anyways that's me rambling for now! thank you again to everyone who has tuned into looking out for you. this is the first piece of creative writing i've done in a long time, and i never expected to actually finish it. i'm so happy with the way it turned out and the love it's received. until next time!

#ao3 fanfic #voltron legendary defender #klance #college au #lance mcclain #keith kogane #takashi shirogane #adam voltron #hunk garrett #pidge holt #allura vld #graduation #faq #character study #relationship #connection #fuck s8 let's talk about the REAL ending of voltron #allura does not die #character development

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uwmadarchives · 2 years

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The challenging task of selecting a research topic

By Elisa Miller, Student Historian 2022/2023

As I step back and reflect on the work I’ve done over the last two months as a student historian, it’s incredible how much I’ve learned about UW. I’ve researched such a broad range of topics and experiences that I can’t even begin to list them all. I will share some of my favorite finds!

As an Asian-American, I immediately started researching the history of Asian-Americans on campus. One of the coolest things I found was an Asian Theater program. Founded by Professor A.C. Scott in 1963, it was the only program of its kind in the country. I should note that Scott was white and had no Asian heritage. He served with the Royal Air Force in World War II and spent much of this time in East Asia. This is where he was introduced to Asian theater. After publishing several books, he moved back to the states where he was eventually approached by UW to start an Asian Theater program under the Ford Grant. He put on several plays and brought in prominent PhD students and actors to teach his students. When the grant money ran out sometime after 1972, Scott decided to stop putting on plays and focused on teaching Chinese martial arts techniques to his acting students.

Scott left the university in 1978, and despite having a successor, the program seems to have died off sometime before 2000. All that seems to remain is a course, Theatre 351: Fundamentals of Asian Stage Discipline. Although Scott was essentially putting his white students in yellow face, as pictured below, he seemed to have great respect for Asian culture. He spent extensive time in Asia and got involved with the theater community in Hong Kong and Tokyo. I believe costume was a major part of these plays, and both Scott and the students treated the plays/culture with respect and reverence.

Image from "A Theater of the Senses," by P. Shaw, 1966, Wisconsin Alumnus, Volume 68, No. 2, p. 10.

I felt I had reached a dead-end with the Asian Theater program because there was a very limited number of results on the online collections at University of Wisconsin Digital Collections (UWDC) and general Google searches (more to come on this…), so I ended up talking with Kacie Lucchini Butcher, the director of the phenomenal Public History Project, to brainstorm some new ideas. She steered me in two directions: humor magazines and the International Club.

As a huge comedy nerd, I dove into the UW humor magazine collections. There were two: the Sphinx which ran from 1903-1913 and the Octopus which ran from 1919-1959. I spent weeks pouring through these magazines, but never found anything compelling enough to me to make it my research topic. Because I’m supposed to focus my research on underrepresented/under researched groups on campus, I tried to hone in on this when looking through the magazines. There was some grotesque stuff about minorities, but they were actually pretty few and far between.

For example: the ‘Fightin’ Irish’ cartoon pictured below. Obviously, the Irish are not really an underrepresented group, but I thought it was interesting to see that they were not truly considered white in the early 1900s.

Many of the discriminatory pieces I found were about women, like this piece “Ain’t Nature Wonderful” from a March 1920 issue of The Octopus. It seems like a normal enough story, until it takes a very violent turn for the “punchline.” This was just one of many pieces where the butt of the joke was violence against women.

For the most part, however, the magazines were actually quite tame. They mostly poked fun at professors, classes, majors, Greek life, etc. While the jokes about women and minorities were quite shocking and hard to read at times, I couldn’t really find a running theme to center a research project around.

I moved on to the International Club. It was founded in 1903 by a Japanese student, Karl Kawakami (Kawakami named himself after Karl Marx). Initially, the club was a place for students to debate international issues, but by the end of the decade it became more of a social club. It was actually the first International Club (also known as the Cosmopolitan Club) in the country. Many other schools such as Illinois, Harvard, Indiana followed suit. They had a national meeting of the club in 1910 in Chicago.

As UW had no formal support/program for international students until the 1950s, the International Club welcomed them to campus and introduced them to American culture. Almost every single international student on campus was a member of the club, but anyone was welcome to join. I went onsite to the Archives to look through documents and found tons of flyers, letters, and even a scrapbook.

One thing that caught my eye was a booklet recapping a year, 1947, of the club. One of the pages was a transcription of a debate between a few club members. I was fascinated at their eloquence and how well rounded their perspectives were. Even though the language is more formal than most students would use today, it felt like a modern conversation. It was really interesting to see a Russian student’s perspective who actually lived in the USSR and his perception of America. While disdain may be a strong word, the Asian and Russian students definitely had a bone to pick with America, which is interesting considering they had decided to attend school here.

Photo by Elisa Miller

After going through the archives and exhausting UWDC, I thought it was a fascinating club, but again couldn’t find the hook for me to make an entire project about it. I felt like there wasn’t really much I wanted to say about it or add to it. It also seems to have disappeared from campus sometime in the 1980s or 1990s and its prominence was in the 1910s and 1920s, and there wasn’t much documentation on the club from that time.

After finding that transcribed conversation between club members, I thought about what anti-Americanism has looked like on campus. I immediately thought of Communists, especially during the McCarthy era. So, over the last few weeks I’ve been researching Communism/Leftism on campus in the 1950s. I’ve found a lot of interesting information about tensions between Communist clubs and administration, as well as a slew of Communist speakers. One of my favorite finds was some articles about Joe McCarthy getting laughed off stage when he came to speak at UW. I also found a piece that directly contradicted the McCarthy situation about Joe Bollenbeck, a man who would attend communist speakers' events and essentially berate them.

Newspaper clipping from the "Daily Cardinal Comment," 1951.

Newspaper clipping by R.O.W., 1971, Insight and Outlook: A Journal of Conservative Student Opinion, Volume XI, No. 1, p. 5

While I was working on this blog, I went over it with my supervisor, Cat Phan. She gave me some helpful notes, but then she asked me about the Asian Theater program. She thought Asian theater on campus would be super interesting and would make a great topic. I agreed! We discussed why I had given up on it, and she helped me realize I may have tossed in the towel a bit too quickly. I had kind of forgotten about it until I was looking back through all my old research to make this post. It had always been a personal favorite of mine, especially because of the personal connection I felt to it. She encouraged me to give it another try and gave me some more resources. So, that’s where I stand now! With Cat’s encouragement, I’m really excited to dive deeper into the program and this is the strongest I’ve felt about any of these topics.

I have also only really researched online using UW resources. I want to start going onsite to the archives, like I did with the International Club, and reaching out to people on campus to get a wider breadth of information. There is only so much material that has been digitized. Although, I do think I reached my personal dead-end with most of my topics with just the material I found online, the Asian Theater program is something that I will have to go out and look into. It is recent enough, at least in comparison to things like the comedy magazines or communists on campus, that I am confident I can find people who have personal experience or firsthand knowledge of the program.

As this exhaustive post makes clear, I have struggled a bit with this research. This is my first research position ever and I’ve really had to learn as I go. I have definitely improved since I began back in July, but still have a lot to work on. I have loved the process, though! What’s great, but also difficult, about this position is how open-ended it is. Everything is completely up to us. The world is our oyster! Cat warned me that choosing a topic has historically been the most difficult part for the past student historians, and that has certainly rang true for me. I had so many ideas at first I just didn’t even know where to begin. I think I’m finally at a good place with my research. I have a clear idea of what I want to look at, and more importantly, why. The Asian Theater program at the University genuinely fascinates me and I would be honored to share more about this story.

#student historians #undergraduate research #uw-madison #campus history

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inkofamethyst · 1 year

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January 4, 2023

AFKDJFKSDLFJKSLJGLS UM HELLO I JUST WOKE UP TO AN INTERVIEW OFFER FROM MY CHOICE 4 [Choice F]

I WAS SO EXCITED I THREW MY PHONE (then subsequently called my parents, of course)

REMEMBER, THIS IS THE ONE THAT I SUBMITTED FIRST AND

did not include a transfer transcript from that summer program because the service was being stupid

wrote a really crappy 1000-word research proposal for (actually two crappy research proposals bc I had to split between straightup morphology and evodevo)

used the phrase “since middle school” instead of “for nearly a decade” (I switched out that phrasing in my diversity statement when I applied to my choice 2 lol) and this has been haunting me because I think it shows how young I am which is a bad think for PhD apps I think because it means I could change my mind really easily

it had seven essays most of which were fine, but I’m not really looking forward to reading them over when I prepare for the visit

one of my recs was submitted late

LUCKILY I can choose my date of visitation, so there won’t be overlap between this one and my Choice 2 [Choice D] (I would like to restate for the court that having a numerical list of these feels wrong because a) I haven’t visited any of these schools so I don’t even know if I vibe with the environment and b) each of them have different strengths, and it would be really easy for me to switch around some of their placements, I think (except Choice 7 [Choice A])).

Really, truly, all I’m waiting for is to see if I got the diversity fellowship from my Choice 3 [Choice G] (the one where I know the lady I want to work with). She said they usually send out that information in January, and if I hear about it before the fifteenth, then I will officially have an option, and I won’t apply to my Choice 7 [Choice A] (and I’ll save $75). Then I wouldn’t have to worry about the possibility of making the decision between attending grad school somewhere I don’t want to go and taking a year off then reapplying (currently leaning toward the year off option if it came to it). These interview invitations are lovely, but they are not concrete acceptances.

BUT. I can still bask in the glory of interview offers because they are investing in me. Choice 4 [Choice F] is also paying for the visit, but their budget is clearly smaller than Choice 2 [Choice D]. That doesn’t necessarily bother me. My Choice 2 is up there with the Ivies in terms of prestige, but my Choice 4 [Choice F] does have an awesome department (one thing about Choice 4 [Choice F] though is that it’s fully an Anthropology Department, so I would be required to take anth courses outside of my concentration which is fine because I like learning in general and that could prepare me for teaching more general anth courses as a budding prof in the future, but some of the other departments are fully bioanth, so I can finally start learning more about the topics I fell in love with (oh wait not to mention the literal problem with racism that my Choice 4 is having rn,,,,,,, (I’d really like it if an unproblematic school offered me an interview, actually, that would be lovely [edit 2: this is so funny because three students died at my current uni over the two years before I decided to apply... I don’t know if there really are unproblematic schools]))).

Today is gonna be pretty chill otherwise, so I’m thankful for another interview offer, this is dope.

It does mean that I’m going to have to braid my hair this weekend :/ But it does also mean that I can just put my hair into a puff for the rest of this week, and I was really not looking forward to twisting for six hours today so that’s nice.

It’s so beautiful outside, I’m going to just chill out there today and read, I think (after I wash my dishes and do my hair).

I need to stop qualifying every positive thing with something negative. This is not bringing balance to the universe or whatever, it’s me actively stealing my own joy.

[edit: it rained on me -_-]

[edit 2.5: the rain didn’t last long, and I went to go get some work done outside, and then I saw a lovely sunset and had a nice walk for my mental health]

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marvelsbanner · 3 years

Text

Help from a friend

summary: Tony and Bruce are stuck on a project- so Bruce calls up an old friend for some help. Aka Tony meeting Bruce’s pretty Doctor friend and being a shameless flirt.

pairing: Tony Stark/Iron Man x fem!reader

warnings: minor language, suggestive language, and innuendos

word count: ~1300

A/N: Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated! <3 All mistakes are my own! This is split in two parts, part 2 will have smut but feel free to stop here if you’re not comfy with that.

**i don’t own marvel** **not my gif**

Bruce and Tony had been working on a project in the lab for a week now. They hadn’t told the team- Tony was keeping it a secret because he knew they wouldn’t be okay with it but he also knew that he was doing the right thing. A suit of armor around the world- his vision, his Ultron.

They had access to all the tech that they needed, two kids in a candy shop, but it wasn’t as simple as they were originally hoping it would be. Apparently, much to Tony’s dismay, having 7 PhD’s didn’t actually make you a master at everything science related. “Then what the hell was it for, Bruce? Just to look smart, like when I wear fake glasses for interviews?”

After getting close to a breakthrough and being shut down again for what seemed like the millionth time, the two men sagged down on the floor in frustration.

“I have a friend-“ Bruce began.

“A friend? Since uh- when” Tony interrupted.

“Acquaintance. Coworker? Whatever,” he held up his hands in mock surrender.

“Doctor y/l/n. This is her speciality, she might be able to help us get somewhere with this. I’ve done a few favors for her, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind returning one.” He said, running his hands roughly over his face.

“Yeah whatever, call your lady doctor friend, i’m ordering Indian, do you want Indian?” Tony rambled, standing up and stretching his back.

“On one condition,” Bruce shot back.

Tony looked up and raised an eyebrow, “Oh? And tell me what that might be, oh green one.”

“No funny business,” Bruce said, unamused.

“Oh don’t worry, i’ve been told i’m not very funny.” he shot back.

“Yeah, I know, i’m the one who told you that. Seriously, she holds a lot of respect among that group and if I bring her here just to have you trying to get in her pants with your god-awful pickup lines i’ll never be able to live it down. So just please, please promise me? You’ll keep it professional?” he pleaded to his friend.

Tony lifted up three fingers, “Scouts honor” he said with a wink before walking out of the lab.

The following morning Tony was already up and working in the lab, blaring his AC/DC music and drinking his first of what would be many cups of coffee that day when the sound of laughter roused him from his thoughts.

He lowered his music until it was almost off, moving his head to look towards the lab entrance and his eyes nearly popped out of his head.

Bruce and his Doctor friend, Doctor.. Doctor.. God he needed to pay more attention when Bruce was speaking- were walking through the door, laughing at some joke he missed.

She was gorgeous, dressed in heels that did WONDERS for legs with a button up blouse and a short skirt with her lab coat over top.

“Tony this is Doctor y/l/n. Doc, Tony.” Bruce introduced, gesturing between the two. Tony reached out to shake her hand enthusiastically, “Doc, good to have you. Wow, I wish Bruce looked as good as you did in a lab coat” he said with a wink.

Bruce shot him a look to kill while she only looked amused, “Funny, Bruce is usually the eye candy at the lab” she said, giving said doctor a teasing nudge with her elbow.

“Hah-hah. Well, go ahead and set up, Doc. We’ll show you what we’re working with so far.” Bruce said, moving aside to give her space and grabbing Tony by the elbow to drag him to the side, “Tony, you promised” he pleaded. “Well, yeah, that was before I knew she was hot so in my mind that contract is null and void” he replied, twisting out of Bruce’s grasp and waltzing over to where she was swiping through data.

“So, Doc- you’re awful young to be a Doctor, aren’t you? Seriously, you don’t look a day over 20.” He said, flashing his playboy smile.

He heard Bruce smack his hand to his forehead.

“Maybe i’m young, or maybe you’re just old” she retorted, not even looking up from the screen.

He turned to Bruce and dramatically fake swooned, mouthing “I’m in love” before turning his attention back to her and clearing his throat.

“I’m not that old I swear, the grays are just from stress.”

“The wrinkles too, I’m assuming?” She fires back with a raised brow. He heard Bruce try and fail to mask a laugh as a cough.

“Ouch, you wound me Doc. Truly, you wound me. You’re gonna send this old man into cardiac arrest. Bruce, what’s the time? I think I’m flatlining.” He called out dramatically.

“Oh god I killed Tony Stark, whatever am I to do?” She said with mock horror.

“Well, I think a suitable repayment would be allowing me to take you out to dinner.” Tony replied as Bruce groaned, slapping his forehead with his palm again.

“Wow smooth. Not even ten minutes in- I had a little more faith in you than that, Stark. Bruce, I owe you a twenty.” She said, shaking her head.

Tony whipped his head around to his friend with a scowl. “You bet on me? Oh come on Brucie that’s low, aren’t you supposed to be my best friend?”

Bruce had a smirk on his face as he replied, “I can be your best friend and acknowledge that you’re a pompous ass, sometimes. Most of the time, actually-“

“Yeah yeah I get it, I’m awful. I’m an awful friend that also let’s you sleep here, eat here, use my lab and all my tech- most of which I designed myself by the way,”

“Ladies, ladies, I hate to break up the lover’s quarrel, I really do, but I think I see where you were going wrong with the data” she interrupted, barely able to hide her amusement. The boys quickly composed themselves and went around to her side to listen to her findings. Tony spent more time staring at her moving lips and cleavage than listening to her, but he was able to get the gist of it.

9 hours. It took 9 hours for her to do what the two scientists had struggled to do for weeks. Tony didn’t know if he should feel stupid, impressed, or turned on- but he was currently a mixture of the three.

She had been incredible, she had a fiery attitude and mouth of sass that paralleled his own but she had knowledge to match Bruce. She moved with purpose, and he watched her at every opportunity he could- even earning an elbow from Bruce on two occasions for staring too long.

She helped them find where they were going wrong and helped them to recode the programs, and by the end of the night Ultron was set to start downloading and be finished within 48 hours.

“Oh don’t be too hard on yourselves, boys. Not all of us can be geniuses, some of us were just put on this Earth to look pretty.” she teased.

“Aw Brucie, did you hear that? She thinks we’re pretty.” Tony said sarcastically.

“Yeah well, she also called us idiots but you focus on whatever you please, Tony.” Bruce shook his head and turned to thank Doctor y/l/n before apologizing and excusing himself out to where Natasha and Steve were needing his help.

“So, man of iron. Tomorrow, pick me up at 7. Look nice, maybe trim some of those grays that are peaking out.” she said teasingly.

Tony had to stop himself from doing a double take. “7? And when exactly did I agree to doing anything at 7 tomorrow, doctor?” He replied, faking indifference.

“Well I still need to repay you for almost killing you with my attitude earlier. Don’t tell Bruce though, I’d never hear the end of it from him.” She grabbed her things and made her way to exit the lab when he called out “I don’t even know where you live”

“I’m sure you’ve got the tech to figure that out.” she replied, still looking straight ahead. She had reached the entranceway of the lab when she swiftly turned to say “You can pick the venue. Wear something nice.. or nothing at all. Your pick.” And with a wink, she was gone, leaving Tony gobsmacked with his jaw on the floor.

part 2

#Tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #tony stark x y/n #tony stark fanfiction #Tony stark ff #iron man #iron man x reader #iron man x you #iron man x y/n #avengers x you #avengers x reader #avengers x y/n #my fics #bruce banner

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brywrites · 3 years

Text

Lock and Key I

Summary: In which Spencer Reid stumbles upon a GED class at Millburn and feels something like hope for the first time in weeks.

[Series Masterlist]

....

The prison library is a haven, for the few minutes he’s allowed to visit twice a week. It’s quiet, secluded, and full of his favorite things – books. The selection is nowhere near as nice as his personal collection at home, or the public library, but it’s better than nothing. Without words, he’d go mad. He needs stories to keep him sane, to give him a route he can escape by.

Today though, he’s startled to walk into the small space and find twelve other prisoners inside – accompanied by a face he’s never seen before. A woman. What’s even more surprising is that she doesn’t wear the uniform of a guard or an employee. Instead she’s in Converse sneakers and a lavender polka-dotted dress. It’s been so long since he saw that color – any bright color, really. But it’s his favorite and it isn’t until that moment that the realizes how much he’s missed the simplest of things. The sight of his favorite color. Bright images in dull spaces. Things that look hopeful.

Reid isn’t sure what’s going on, but the other prisoners seem to be too absorbed in the books to notice him. Just as he’s thinking he can back away quietly and return tomorrow, she turns around, smiling at the sight of him.

“Well hello there!” she says. “Are you Luis?”

Reid tilts his head, confused. How does this stranger know his friend? “Uh, no, no I’m not. I’m sorry, who are you?”

Her smile drops, though she doesn’t seem annoyed. Merely disappointed. “Oh. They told me Luis would be joining us today, but he never showed up. I’m Y/N. I’m one of the teachers here.”

This is the first he’s heard of such a thing. “You teach?”

She nods. “That’s right! I teach a couple of different groups – a few college classes here and there, a resume workshop. This is my GED class. We’re starting a unit on British Literature so they’ve all come to pick out a novel. You must be new here,” she notes, looking him over. He can feel himself flush under her gaze. It’s been a while since someone looked at him just to see him and not to evaluate his potential as a threat or a tool. “If you’d like, you can join the class. I’ve got plenty of open seats.”

“Oh no, I don’t need a GED.”

“It’s never too late to graduate,” she says. Then, considering him, “But that’s not what you meant is it?”

The way she’s studying him makes him nervous, though he’s certain it’s the same way he’s studied suspects and victims, trying to see beyond the obvious and understand what lies beneath. How strange, to be on the other side of that stare. “I’ve graduated high school already,” he informs her, hoping he doesn’t sound aloof. “And college. Actually, I hold three PhDs.”

“In what?”

“Mathematics, chemistry, and engineering.”

Y/N holds his gaze, taking this in. It’s as though she’s trying to decide whether or not to believe him. He figures in this environment, perhaps it’s not unusual to be told blatant lies by some prisoners. Delusion and paranoia aren’t uncommon. To teach in a place like this, she would have to be insightful and observant. For whatever reason, she must decide to trust him, because she smiles again.

“Well that’s rather impressive. You’re more qualified than I am. Just a Master’s for me.”

Reid decides against commenting in the irony of the situation, that despite his qualifications he’s nothing but a prisoner here. The same category as every drug-dealer, murderer, petty thief, and gangbanger. No better. But the way she looks at him, it at least makes him feel normal again. She looks at him like he’s a human being, with no disdain or disgust in her gaze, and no air of superiority in her voice.

“What did you study?” he asks her.

“English literature in college, education in grad school. I specialized in literature and languages, though I’m not too shabby when it comes to history. If it’s the STEM field you’ll be wanting though, you’ll have to check in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, my colleague teaches those classes.”

Glancing down at her watch, her eyes widen. “Goodness, we’re almost out of time.” She turns to the other inmates and instructs them to make their choices before she has to dismiss class for the day. To him, she adds, “It was nice to meet you – um…”

“Doct-” he begins, before stopping himself. This isn’t a normal introduction. Here, he holds no title, no position of importance. “Er, Spencer. My name is Spencer.”

“Well, Doc –” He tries not to smile at her casual acknowledgment – “if you ever change your mind, we meet Mondays and Wednesdays in room W15 during the afternoon rec slot.”

Despite having no need to attend a GED class, and for reasons he cannot quite explain, he finds himself slipping into that very room on Wednesday afternoon. Y/N glances up from the whiteboard she writes on, faltering for only a brief moment when she catches sight of him slipping into an empty seat in the back row, but she carries on. They’re talking about common themes in Brit Lit, and she’s explaining the Canterbury Tales, which they’ll be reading parts of. From what Reid gathers, there aren’t enough copies of books for them to all read the same novel, but she’s printed out large sections of the Tales for them to read together. It’s familiar, and for someone whose life has largely revolved in academia, it’s soothing to be in an environment where learning is taking place and discussion is happening. Even though he sits silently in the back row, observing.

The other inmates have all picked out books to read on their own and report on, from King Lear to Brave New World. A few have even selected Bronte and Austen novels, which Y/N applauds them for. When she divides them into groups to read and discuss “The Knight’s Tale,” she slips over to join Reid in the back of the room.

“I didn’t think you’d make it, Doc,” she tells him.

He shrugs. “I – I’ve kind of missed the classroom. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to sit in. If you don’t mind, of course!”

“Not at all.” She smiles, dismissing his worry with a wave of her hand. “The more the merrier. Besides, it’s rare that I have students with such an extensive education beforehand. You’ll need to file an enrollment slip though, just for official records.”

She hands him a piece of paper and a commissary pen. While he doesn’t need the credit, he could use the normalcy. Discussions about books with other people in a space that feels a little safer – even if it doesn’t look like the classrooms he’s used to. The walls are stark white and bare save for three posters of famous writers and scientists. The two windows have thick bars on them. The desks are bolted to the floor. Every man in the room wears prison issued blues. But there is a whiteboard and a bookshelf and a clock. And Y/N, in a bright blue turtleneck. It makes him think of the sky, which he only gets a glimpse of for a few hours each week. Suddenly, she’s become the most vivid connection to the outside world.

“How long have you been teaching here?” he asks as he writes down answers to the form’s printed questions.

“Almost three years now. It started with just GED classes, but some volunteer programs have helped us bring new opportunities to the guys. It took me a while to convince the warden, but they’ve been a huge success. So are you coming from another facility? I know we had some transfers last week.”

He shakes his head. “I uh, I haven’t been sentenced yet. But there was overcrowding at the jail so they sent me here.” Reid pauses. “I assumed you would’ve known that.” The inmate records are publicly available. All she’d have to do is search his name or the number on his clothing and everything she needed to know would be right there – his charges, his admission date, his identifying information and that ID photo from his first day.

But she just shrugs. “I make a point not to look up what my students have been convicted of. I let them volunteer that information if they choose to, but I respect their privacy. Besides, I’d like to believe all of us are more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.”

He’s struck by her words. After all, for the last decade his job has been to see people precisely as the worst thing they’ve ever done. To delve deep into those actions and develop a profile of a person on that alone. He has an impulse to dismiss her statement as naïve, but it reminds him of Garcia, of her boundless optimism and her ability to see the best in the world even after looking at the worst of it. That memory and the smile Y/N looks at him with softens the heart he’s been carefully hardening since he arrived here. And so rather than dampen her spirit he asks, “Does it matter if I’ve read all of the books you’re discussing already?”

Her eyes widen ever so slightly with surprise. “All of them?”

“My mother was a literature professor,” he says. “And I just really like books.”

“Well, typically I’d encourage you to take the courses we offer for college credit but they’re full. Since you already have your GED, I suppose we could treat it like you’re auditing. It might help some of the guys to have someone with a little more academic experience…” She trails off and then gasps. “Oh wait! How would you feel about being the TA for the class? It’s been so long since I had one for the GED classes.”

“Like… grade papers and things?”

“No, not like that,�� she says. “There are strict rules about who sees what here. Being a TA for me would be less typical TA duties and more of mentoring the other students, helping me clean up after class, re-shelving books, things like that. It’s not an official job so there’s no pay, but you would get good time credit.”

Though he doesn’t know what his sentence here will be, if he’s sentenced at all, he knows that any good time credit he can obtain to reduce the length of it is worth it. And so he says, “Okay.”

Y/N’s eyes light up. Her smile is the prettiest thing he’s seen since he got here. “Perfect! Oh, this is so exciting. I’m glad you joined us.” When he finishes the paperwork, she leads him to an empty seat at a group of tables.

“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong, Porkchop. It’s a love story,” one of the men is saying to another.

“Come on now, Xavier, you know the rules,” Y/N interrupts. “Nicknames stay outside the classroom. We use first names here.”

“Sorry, Teach,” Xavier says. He tries again. “It’s a love story, Carl.”

“That’s more like it. Carl, I can’t wait to hear your response. But first, I’m going to have Spencer join your group, alright? He’s our newest student and our TA for the class. He’s read a lot of these books so if you’re having a hard time or want to talk to someone about the material outside of class time, he’s a great person to ask.”

The group welcomes him – Xavier, Carl, Richie, and Luis. Reid is grateful to be with Luis, the one person he knows he can consider a friend inside. They talk about Chaucer and “The Franklin’s Tale,” and he’s surprised by the critiques and connections his peers make. Their debate is certainly different than the conversation he’d expect to find at a university class, but their ideas are still insightful and interesting. They make connections to their own lives, to the sacrifices they have made and the power of love they have witnessed firsthand. Mothers who never stop fighting for their appeal cases. Friends who send money so they can afford commissary. The difficulty of skipping commissary so they can send money home to their own families outside.

When their discussion finally winds down, Reid asks, “What’s the rule with nicknames about?”

“It’s Miss Y/N’s way of humanizing people,” Xavier says. “She says when we use first names like that, we’re all equals. But it’s different outside of class. We stick to nicknames because that’s what you do, y’know?” Reid shakes his head. Xavier chuckles. “You’re fresh meat, huh. First time you been down? In here, COs turn you into just a number or a last name. So nicknames inside are a way to hold on to some of your identity. Beyond that, there’s some guys in here you don’t want knowing your name, you feel me?”

“Nicknames gotta be given to you by someone else. Can’t make your own. Course, that means they’re usually a little insulting. They call me Porkchop,” Carl says. “Xavier’s Hammerhead. Richie is Spiders. And Luis, he been christened Slim Jim yesterday at chow. But don’t worry, we’ll find one for you soon.” Reid isn’t sure how to feel about the assurance. He doesn’t want to belong here, doesn’t want to fit in or get comfortable. On the other hand, he may be here for a while. Maybe laying low and finding allies wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

He knows one thing for sure – as he walks out of class, Y/N flashes that bright smile at him again. And for some reason, it makes him feel hopeful. More hopeful than any session with lawyers or judges has made him feel. Monday can’t come soon enough.

[Next]

Tags: @calm-and-doctor @averyhotchner

#criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #prison reid #prison!reid

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creacherkeeper · 3 years

Note

i just thought about adaine&aelwyn pacific rim au so take that as well (if not those two, i'll take any of the others fh babes for pacific rim too :D)

the thing is, they don't get along

they've never gotten along

and why would they? their parents pitted them against each other since childhood. it made aelwyn study harder, strive more, accomplish, overcome, win, and all it ever did for adaine was make her rebel. while aelwyn was getting her phd in engineering and applied sciences, adaine was training. sometimes she felt like she'd been born for war. as a small child, she couldn't have guessed what it would be war with. but she knew who she was. she knew why her parents hated her. why they always favored the science-minded and, in their eyes, delicate aelwyn. she wasn't the one staging battles with her stuffed animals

adaine was the youngest to ever be accepted as a pilot. she was sure her parents saw it on the news, but they didn't bother congratulating her. she hadn't heard from her family since emancipating herself at 16, and that was fine. she had a new family now. and she had a jaeger

she gets sent to hong kong, because they all get sent to hong kong. everyone who's left. adaine wonders if she found her place right as the floor started collapsing beneath her. but it's fine. she'll fight until she's the last one standing

well, that is, if she can find a co-pilot

she's not as strong as a lot of the others. but they aren't as smart as her. they don't have her eye for strategy, for tactics, for precise strikes executed to perfection. they assign her the most light and nimble jaeger they have. and she waits. and she tests. and she spars.

no one seems to be a match

she has a good night of getting wasted with her friends, and then a good night of crying in her bunk, because she knows she's done. the whole program is falling apart anyway. it's not like they'll find anyone in time for her to ever see the inside of the machine

the next morning, hungover to hell and back, eyes puffy and exhausted, she makes eye contact with her sister over a tray of dry cereal and toast

it's awkward. it's not like they talked about being stationed together. adaine hadn't even heard from her sister in years. she wonders if this is aguefort's doing, bringing them both to base like this. she wouldn't put it past him. on the other hand, they needed new jaegers. and aelwyn knew how to build them

they avoid each other, at first. what else are they supposed to do? they did nothing but torment each other as children, and now here they are. all grown up. mostly. as much as they maybe ever will be, if the world is coming to an end

it lasts for a few weeks. things are tense. then aelwyn is assigned to make upgrades to adaine's jaeger, since, you know, she's being pulled from the project to be replaced with someone who's actually drift compatible. adaine won't leave the cockpit. they scream, a little. or a lot, to anyone else you asked. but it feels like it needed to happen. they've barely done more than nod in the hallways. it's a release of tension. they can be in the same room now, at least

adaine has one last chance to say goodbye to the machine she never got to pilot. aelwyn comes to offer some consolation, though it's with the utmost hesitation, something adaine doesn't remember her ever showing before. she snagged the last dessert from the cafeteria. they split it on the cockpit floor

"i spend all my time designing these machines. but i don't even know what they feel like"

"can i show you?"

so, adaine might be drift compatible, it turns out. with one person in particular. it's incredibly unfortunate that it's with a scientist, not a pilot. it's even more unfortunate that it's her sister

they fight about that, too, after they come out of the drift, while their minds are no longer melded and everything doesn't feel quite so achingly close. aelwyn was pulling away from her the second they linked. hiding something. adaine wanted to know what. so, they fight. they yell. they storm away

aguefort calls them to his office the next morning saying they have to drift again. just as a test. he reminds them about security cameras and computers and all the other shit that they had forgotten about over a split tiramisu

aelwyn refuses. she's not a pilot. she never wanted to be. and what would their parents say? like, okay, yes, of course she knows how they work. she knows everything about jaegers. she could pilot it, theoretically. but she won't. and especially not with her sister

two kaiju come through the breach

riz and fabian nearly go down. their jaeger literally crawls home. electrical scars run over the skin and muscles of their arms.

fig nearly destroys the base in frustration when their medic, kristen, says they can't pilot again. not so soon. maybe not ever. jawbone is getting older, no matter how much tracker would deny it in front of him. and gorgug and zelda can't handle multiple kaiju by themselves. no one could

ayda goes to aelwyn the next morning, scientist to scientist, pilot to ... something. and says she has to try. she has to drift again. she has to fight. there may not be a world left to save if she doesn't

they stand across from each other in the cockpit. they know there's no holding back, this time. no secrets. nothing left unsaid. and they drift

adaine sees shame, she sees self-hatred, she sees fear - such absolute, overwhelming fear. aelwyn sees anger, and in the face of it, resolve. she feels, then pulls away from, then lets herself feel, again, just for a moment, love in spite of that. it's hard to hide from, the enormity of adaine's love

they drift. and they know they can do it, if they need to. they can fight. they can win

the next day, the storm oracle is released into the ocean. they have a kaiju to fight, and even more to prove. and they do

#fantasy high #dimension 20 #adaine abernant #aelwyn abernant #the post: list 5 headcanons #me: okay but what if-#pacific rim au

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thalergetic · 4 years

Note

prompt: sugar daddy adora. as a birthday treat 😌

as a birthday treat? of course 😌

As far as Catra knew, most grad students didn’t have closets full of Gucci, Dior, and Louis Vuitton.

They didn’t have a chauffeur that would take them wherever they needed, whenever they needed.

And they certainly weren’t sharing a bed with one of the most powerful businesswomen in the country.

Adora Grayskull, who made the 30 Under 30 list at age 21, had been promoted to COO of Horde Industries about three months before she met Catra, and she was only on her way up.

Catra wasn’t sure exactly what her job entailed — Adora had tried explaining it a few times in bed, but nothing had ever stuck — and wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

After all, that wasn’t something their... agreement had covered.

Catra met Adora when she was in the first year of a grueling PhD program at one of the best schools on the West Coast.

She’d been waiting tables in a fairly high-class restaurant, trying to make enough money to cover her first tuition payment, when Adora walked in.

She had been with a client, Catra remembered, but it didn’t stop her from staring the whole time.

When her client left — in some fit of rage, if the way he stormed out was anything to go by — Adora had sighed and put her head in her hands.

And, well, Catra wasn’t immune to someone that attractive in a well-tailored suit.

She brought over a glass of the scotch Adora had ordered earlier and placed it gently beside her.

“On the house,” Catra said, watching Adora’s eyes flick over to it. “You’re Adora Grayskull, right?”

“Guilty as charged.” Adora looked up at her for a moment. “Care to join me?”

Catra knew she probably shouldn’t, but it had been a slow night, and her manager was too busy micromanaging the hostesses to notice her.

After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded, and pulled up a chair across from her. “What was that guy’s deal?”

Adora sighed a little, looking towards the door before her eyes met Catra’s. “I had to fire him.” When Catra’s eyes widened a little, Adora continued, explaining, “He’s— he was in charge of our Boston branch.”

“Not anymore, though, I guess,” Catra said. “Rough way to end a night.”

“Considering he spent the last two quarters doing coke and fucking his secretary, I think he probably should’ve seen it coming.” Adora took a sip of her drink to hide a smile as Catra let out a surprised laugh.

Adora swallowed, then nodded toward Catra. “My turn to ask a question. What brought you here?”

“Here, like, to LA? Or to the restaurant?”

“Both,” Adora shrugged. “Either.”

Catra gnawed at the inside of her lip for a second. “I’m a grad student at UCLA,” She said. “I just started a PhD program.”

Adora’s eyebrows raised a little as she nodded, impressed. “In what?”

“Mechanical engineering and applied physics,” Catra answered, watching Adora’s eyes widen even further. “Y’know. Basic stuff.”

It was Adora’s turn to let out a surprised laugh. “No shit,” She said, propping her head up on a hand. “Tell me more.”

Somehow, Catra did. She talked — slow and hesitant at first, then with increasing enthusiasm that led her to drawing a diagram on the back of a receipt — about her work, her interests, and her concentration.

The whole time, Adora watched her face with an awed expression. At the end, her only question was, “So why the hell are you waiting tables?”

“I mean, the tuition isn’t exactly cheap,” Catra said. “I got a partial scholarship, but I’m already up to my neck in loans. This doesn’t cover all of it, but...” She shrugged. “It helps. Plus, the food’s not bad.”

Adora nodded a little. Her face clouded with an expression Catra couldn’t place. “Means you have less time to do your actual work, though.”

Catra nodded. “It does. But, I mean, it’s whatever,” She said, shrugging again. “That’s life. What can you do, y’know?”

“Well, I—” Adora cut herself off with a shake of her head. “No, that’s not— never mind.”

Catra frowned. “What?”

As if to give her some courage, Adora finished her drink. She began to run her finger around the edge of the glass as she said, in a careful, halting voice, “If you needed some help, I would...” She cleared her throat. “I would be happy to, um...”

She was blushing, Catra realized. Why would she be— oh.

Oh.

“Um,” Catra started, eyes widening. “You— but, I-I mean, I just met you.”

“True,” Adora agreed. “So obviously you’re under no obligation to accept, but—” She let out a small sigh. “You know you’re the first person I’ve been able to have a normal conversation with in years?”

Catra blinked. She wasn’t sure what to say, and all her brain could come up with was, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Adora nodded. “And you’re so, so smart, Catra. You should be able to spend as much time as humanly possible doing what you love, not—not giving glasses of Johnny Walker to random CEOs on a Tuesday night.”

Catra was pretty sure her mouth was hanging open. “So, to be clear, you would be, like... my sugar daddy?”

Adora cringed a little at the words, but nodded anyway. “If that’s what you want to call it, then... sure. But we don’t have to discuss it now,” She said, reaching into her suit jacket.

She pulled out a sleek, neat black wallet and pulled one, two, then four hundred-dollar bills from inside it.

“When are you free to talk about it?” Adora asked, sliding the money across the table. “I’ll send a car for you.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can take the bus.”

“If that’s what you want, that’s fine,” Adora said, putting her hands up in surrender. “But if it makes things easier for you, I’m happy to do it.”

In the end, the temptation of a plush, fancy car was too much for Catra to overcome, and she relented soon after.

Later that week, when she and Adora went over the terms of what they’d refer to as the agreement, Catra found herself blushing when she asked the question that had been lingering on her mind for days.

“So... in exchange for the money,” Catra said hesitantly, watching Adora’s expression shift ever so slightly, “What... would I be doing?”

“Right. Um.” Adora started, swallowing thickly. “I know that usually in these types of relationships, there’s—” She cut herself off, letting out a small laugh. “I don’t know why I’m blushing,” She said, shaking her head. “Um. But there’s a sexual component.”

Not trusting herself to speak without it coming out squeaky, Catra just nodded. Her face was on fire.

“If that’s not something you’re interested in, that’s completely fine,” Adora said, raising her eyebrows a little. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything.”

Catra nodded again, clearing her throat. “And, um. If... I was interested?”

Adora’s eyes widened a little, and Catra swore she saw them darken as her jaw pulsed. “If you’re interested,” Adora said, her voice dropping a little deeper, “I’m more than okay with that.”

Feeling her heart rate jump a little at the sudden change in demeanor, Catra blinked rapidly. “Um. O-okay,” She said, nodding again. “Yeah. Cool. We need to—to talk about it more, though, right?”

“I need to know any limits you have,” Adora said, nodding. “Anything you’re absolutely not willing to do.”

“Okay,” Catra nodded. “Yeah. I can do that.”

Adora offered a hand out for Catra to shake.

After a second’s hesitation, Catra took it.

“Then it’s a deal,” Adora said, giving her a smile. “You’ll have access to a car service, my credit card, and the penthouse,” She said. “In return, I would just ask that you keep this between us.”

“Uh. Of course,” Catra said, remembering the very detailed text she’d sent to Glimmer after their first meeting. “Um. I-I can do that.”

“I-I mean, I don’t know what you’ve told people,” Adora said, frowning a little. “Just, you know. Try and keep my name out of it. Not that I’m ashamed of you, or of this, but with the company—”

“Easy, baby,” Catra said, putting a hand on her arm. She began to rub soothingly at it, feeling hard muscle under Adora’s dress shirt. “I get it.”

Adora blushed again. “You—you called me baby,” She said dumbly.

“You’re paying for my tuition,” Catra said, raising an eyebrow. “I feel like it’s the least I can do.”

The words seemed to remind her of something, and Catra swallowed hard. “Speaking of tuition,” She said. “When do you... want me to start?”

“Start wh— oh.” Adora’s eyes widened. She looked behind her, where the door to her bedroom was open, before turning back to Catra. “Are you busy tonight?”

Catra blinked, trying hard to tamp down her blush. “Not at all.”

“Well, then,” Adora said, taking a step toward her. Slowly, so Catra could see and react to it, she moved her hand up so her thumb was resting on Catra’s bottom lip. “There’s your answer.”

Catra opened her mouth a little, feeling Adora slide her thumb inside.

In a second, Catra decided that if she was going to do this, she would do it right.

Putting a hand on Adora’s to steady it, Catra began to suck gently on the finger in her mouth, watching Adora’s eyes fly open as her lips parted.

A few moments later, Catra released her finger with a pop, leaving Adora much less collected than she had been minutes prior.

With a wink, Catra moved past her slowly, dragging her fingers lightly along Adora’s shoulder as she walked behind her into her bedroom.

Catra stopped at the doorway and looked back. “If we’re doing this, there’s something you should know,” She said, watching Adora frown in a mix of concern, confusion, and arousal.

“What?”

Dragging her eyes up and down Adora’s body, Catra gave her a grin. “I bite.”

#ask #adorasheart #alex #my writing #catradora #spop #catradora fic #prompt fill #this idea? sexy as fuck #happy birthday babe 😌

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ziamhaze · 3 years

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My Future in Fic

Yeah, so, the 100k fic that I’ve been working on for the past six months? The one that was going to be uploaded to AO3 last week? Yeah, it’s accidentally getting published...

Where do I start?

I suppose with a massive thank you to anyone who’s clicked on any of my fics over these past two years. I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again. I never ever thought about writing as a career. I’ve never written anything prior to my Harry Potter AU Compartment 451. I didn’t even take an English class in undergrad or grad school. I genuinely just had an idea for a fic I wanted to read and since no one had written it, I had to do so myself. Since then, I’ve written every single day for 2 years. I left my job in the entertainment industry, got accepted to one of the best creative writing programs in the world on a scholarship, and now one of my stories is being considered at Harper Collins. Yes, the Harper Collins. It’s the longest shot in the world, but for legal reasons I was not allowed to upload the fic version on any website prior to submission. Even if they don’t pick it up, I’ve been advised to continue to shop it around to agents.

What I can do, however, is share the premise.

If you’ve been following my tumblr and watching my tags - I SEE YOU ALL OUT THERE - then you’ll know that this fic was meant to have Zayn with his signature undercut hairstyle and one more little thing...

Someone sent me an ask a while back about what this fic was supposed to be about. I believe I said something about it being an adaptation fic, but not from a film/tv show/other piece of literature, from a song. This next fic was meant to be an adaptation of the song Younger by Ruel. Later on, it also took shape with the help of Remember by Liam and a few others that you can find here.

The miniature summary is as follows:

When his father suddenly passes, twenty-nine-year-old Liam Payne is brought back to the Sydney suburbs where he grew up. He doesn’t plan on seeing his childhood best friend, Zayn Malik, at the burial service. They haven’t spoken since going from brothers to strangers one fateful day fifteen years prior. But Zayn puts an end to this when he approaches Liam after the burial, offering his condolences and asking if Liam can help his archaeological research team with photographing their newest project. The unexpected closeness forces each man to wade through uneasy emotions. For Liam, a mixture of grief, lost identity, and confusion over why he’s willing to interact with the one person he swore he’d never forgive. And for Zayn, a tidal wave of anxiety that comes from finally facing a part of himself he’s always chosen to deny. When We Were Younger is a story heavily rooted in blurred identities and exploring what loss can look like in two different scenarios: death and friendship.

For obvious reasons, their names will be changed. Liam, to Hutton. Zayn, to Cairo (his ethnicity will also be changed to Egyptian). As you can see, it was meant to be my big ‘enemies to lovers’ fic. Technically, it’s ‘best friends to enemies to lovers’, but you know.

Right, so what does this mean for me going forward?

I still have so much inspiration when it comes to writing Zayn and Liam as characters. I don’t plan on putting a complete stop to writing them, but with my career taking this large of a turn, I do have to prioritise my time. That said, as of now, I can’t afford to write long-form fic any longer.

Soon, I’ll be starting a PhD program where I’ll be writing another full-length novel for mass publication. For fun, here’s a little insight on the two ideas that I’ll be pitching:

1. Underground boxer (loosely based off Liam) falls in love with arms gang leader (loosely based off Zayn). Throughout their love story, the latter has to outrun the psychological trauma his father (the leader of Zayn’s rival gang) still throws his way.

2. Cold War AU. Paris, circa 1950/51. Ambassador’s son (loosely based off Liam) befriends new student (loosely based off Zayn) at the international school. Paris is a ticking time bomb; war is about to break out at literally any second. The two clearly have feelings for each other, but can’t act on them because homosexuality in the 1950s...yikes. When war does break out, the two are separated, and as Liam’s character goes out to find Zayn’s, he learns a secret of his that changes everything.

Whichever I don’t write for the PhD will be the novel I write following it.

In the meantime, I’m going to continue to write (and edit) like crazy. Ever since I randomly wrote C451, there hasn't been a day that’s gone by where I haven't written something. It may have only been a paragraph or two, but never zero. This is how you get better. This is the equivalent of going out and shooting free throws for 30 minutes a day. You have to put in the work in order to get better. I'm very lucky that I'm incredibly self-disciplined and I've been able to crank out as many stories as I have over the past 2 years.

That said, I’ll be writing shorter little oneshots. I have several ideas that I’ve been sitting on, but haven’t ever thought to write because I HATE writing short stories. Little ideas that don't have huge plotline/climax potential, but that I want to just see on paper, I'll probably end up writing. If I had to guess, I'd say they'll come out to around 10-15k. Also, sequels? Prequels? Haha, you never know...

I’ve also got a series called “Sleep Drabbles” that are, yes, you guessed it, a series of drabbles based around one theme: sleep. I also have a few scenes that I want to write which are based on ziam’s kids, not actually ziam themselves. If there’s enough demand for that, I can upload those too, but they’re quite niche, so I don’t think the general fandom would be very interested.

As far as frequency for all of this, I have no idea. I’ve always done things at my own pace and written stories that I want to write, for myself. That won’t ever change, so I don’t want to commit to one drabble a week or one short-length fic per month. It takes me weeks (months for this last fic) to research and interview the necessary people to get character arcs correct/believable. I love that part of writing, and so if I have a little story that I want to write that may only be 10k but takes me ages to put together how I want, then so be it. I will always be around to answer asks/messages and please, continue to tag me in your writing tag posts! But please, no prompts.

So, that’s my future with fic.

Again, I cannot say thank you enough to every single one of you. Every single thing that people tag me in (@malik-payne , @zqua1d , @zentiment , @liamisthesun , @redyellowberry I’m looking at you), I appreciate and love! The recommendation lists that people have put me on, THANK YOU! It’s wild to think that I used to look to rec lists for years and now I’m on them. @ziamfanfiction THANK YOU for always having my back with exposure! @paynefulperiods , my beloved beta reader, THANK YOU for always encouraging me and putting up with shit first drafts. @march-z5 , THANK YOU for always being on call for ideas and listening to me bang my head against the wall at 4 am.

Now, might fuck around and make a fake picspam for the fic that never was...

Also, all of the behind scenes pages for each of my fics are now public, so feel free to check those out here.

I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for making this journey possible. I know people say that a lot when they gain a following of any sort, but I truly truly mean it. You have to have talent in order to be an author, but you also have to have people who want to read your stuff. Proof of concept is a real thing.

So thank you a million times over.

Speak soon my friends.

#ziamhaze #my writing #ziam #ziam fanfic #ziam fanfiction #not sure what to tag this #also gonna be reblogging for a while bc I know people are going to be curious about where the next fic is and won't have seen this

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freudensteins-monster · 3 years

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You Say “Mad Scientist” Like It’s A Bad Thing

Based on my own tumblr post: 3am thoughts… Has anyone written Jane Foster as a mad scientist, I mean like a villain?

Chaotic neutral Darcy and Jane featuring modern/human SHIELD Agent Bucky.

Available on AO3.

Content Warnings: Implied/Referenced Torture, Aftermath of Torture, Amnesia, Memory Suppressing Machine | The Chair (Marvel), Dark, Sort Of, Ambiguous/Open Ending...

In a world full of megalomaniacs, straight up supervillains, and fricking aliens, mad scientists were a dime a dozen. Dr Foster was one such scientist who was quickly moving from mildly irritating to SHIELD’s Most Wanted.

Dr Foster’s gimmick was portals. She first gained international attention when she claimed responsibility (via an untraceable Instagram account, @dr-mthrfckng-foster) for diverting LA’s 405 to a dirt road in rural Australia. Then came a string of impossible robberies – bank vaults and the private collections of the world's richest assholes stripped bare in seconds. Then she created a portal that caused an Indonesian typhoon to bear down on Wall Street, flooding the trading floor. And then she robbed a top secret government black site of some classified technology.

And that’s when Director Nick Fury made finding and stopping Dr Foster SHIELD’s number one priority.

Agent James Barnes had been stuck on suspension for two weeks, with two more to go, and was itching to get back into the field. He had way too much free time on his hands: he’d caught up on his sleep and everything in his Netflix queue. He’d cleaned out his refrigerator, done laundry and enough meal prep to last him until next month. He’d caught up with his family, cleaned his whole goddamn apartment twice, and now he was well and truly bored.

He was out for his fifth run of the week (and it wasn’t even Wednesday) when his work phone rang.

“Thank Christ,” he muttered before answering.

“Barnes.”

“It’s Hill. How’s the arm?”

“Fine,” Barnes grunted, rotating his metal shoulder irritably. “You got something for me?”

“Are you up for a recon mission?”

Usually he would have protested. He headed tactical units. He was an elite ‘first through the door’ kind of field agent. Not that he couldn’t be stealthy and patient - he’d been a sniper in the army for christ's sake - but going unnoticed in public was kind of a problem for him these days; he’d have to wear jackets and gloves in the middle of August to hide his prosthetic for starters.

On the other hand, his mother had been calling him every second day to feed him carb-heavy meals in exchange for help around the house, all while dropping not-so-subtle hints that he should start dating again. Requests for more grandchildren couldn’t be far behind.

“I’ll be there in thirty.”

Thirty-five minutes later Agent Barnes was back at his desk at SHIELD HQ perusing through the increasingly large file of one Dr Jane Foster.

She had been a brilliant student and had earned a PhD in Astrophysics from Culver University by the age of 25. By all accounts she should have been one of the leading researchers in her field, and if doctoral programs handed out superlatives Dr Foster’s would have been “Most Likely To Win a Nobel Prize By 30”.

Unfortunately for Dr Foster, and the rest of the world, she had been forced from that path by a sexist tenured professor who publicly denounced her theories, and the woman herself, as crazy, discredited her published work, and used his influence to ensure she was denied all of the more lucrative research grants.

When federal agents went to interview him after the 405 incident they found his office looking like a tornado had gone through it and the professor himself was nowhere to be found. A few weeks later he stumbled into a US Embassy in Russia after being found wandering in from the forests outside Vladivostok, half mad and still decrying the evils of allowing women into scientific fields.

He had been placed into witness protection and promptly admitted into a psychiatric facility under his new name, and was being monitored by several undercover agents in case Dr Foster felt like punishing him some more.

Anyone else who had a part in ruining Dr Foster’s legitimate career was also under surveillance, as was her mother in London, a terrified ex-boyfriend in Boston, and a handful of known associates, though Dr Foster hadn’t been in contact with any of them in years.

SHIELD and other federal agencies had tried the usual methods of tracking down a rogue mad scientist. They tried to find out where her base of operations was, firstly by looking for any properties in her name, but Dr Foster had been a broke student with an impressive amount of debt (until the day she decided to wipe it, and the rest of Culver’s student debt, out). So if she had property it would definitely not be in her legal name and all but impossible to trace back to her. Then they tried to look for drains on the powergrid. However she managed to generate her portals - SHIELD scientists still hadn’t figured that out - it surely had to be using huge amounts of electricity. So far they’d found six grow labs and two server rooms running illegal god-knows-what, but no Dr Foster.

Agent Barnes read the file twice, reviewed all the transcripts of the interviews with her known associates, and came to one very important conclusion: she had an accomplice.

As smart as Dr Foster was there was nothing in her academic history to suggest that she had a background in computer science that would account for the notable hacks and the untraceable nature of her activities. To add to that several interviewees had made passing remarks about her not having a cell phone for most of her academic career, and how she had zero interest in social media.

Two days later, after getting the okay for a field trip from Hill, Agent Barnes made his way to Culver University to speak to anyone who had even the vaguest recollection of Dr Foster. And that’s how he learnt about the intern.

He’d started by dropping by one of the physics labs where Dr Foster had spent most of her time, and by pure chance met a doctoral candidate who remembered her, and her intern.

“I think her name was Darlene. Glasses. Always on her phone.”

…which led him to the academic advisor who put the two of them together...

“Darcy. Darcy Lewis. She was actually a PoliSci major but left it too late and Dr Foster’s internship was the only one available. She had only been working with her for a few weeks before… before Dr Foster’s funding was revoked and she was asked to leave.”

...who pointed him to one of Darcy’s former professors…

“Average student. Good debater. Often late, and always had a coffee in her hand.”

...who gave him a few names of some former classmates who might remember her…

“Not the worst person to be stuck with on a group assignment. Pulled her weight. Obsessed with her stupid iPod.”

“I swear she lived off pop tarts and coffee. And not Starbucks either. Some stupid hipster chain.”

“Deja Brew. Serious problem. Went through one of those loyalty punch cards every week. Always complained about having to go home for the holidays and resort to big chain coffee shops.”

...which had him driving out to Darcy Lewis’ hometown, located a few hours south of Roanoke, Virginia, stopping first at the local high school to speak to the school principal…

“She’d always been good with computers but wasn’t allowed to use them at home for some reason so she spent a lot of time at the local library using theirs. We had to suspend her once. One of her classmates accused her of accepting payment from other students to hack the school’s records and alter their grades. Their grades were definitely getting altered, but we couldn’t get any concrete proof it was her.”

...who was able to find a photo of 16 year old Darcy in an old yearbook and told him what bar he could find Darcy’s mother in.

“She knows not to come to me if she’s in the shit, because I would call the cops in a heartbeat. Especially after that stunt she pulled before she went off to college…”

“What stunt was that, Ms Bennett?” Agent Barnes asked patiently, hoping he wouldn’t have to enable her alcoholism to get some useful information.

“I made some mistakes, okay,” she slurred defensively. “I was having an affair with my boss. Don’t know how Darcy knew. She told her stepfather but he didn’t believe her. Then a few weeks later we went out to dinner for my boss’s birthday... all the tv’s in the bar start showing security camera footage of us falling into offices and motel rooms. Took her all of a minute to ruin two marriages and a law firm.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied diplomatically. “Is there anyone she could turn to for help? Her father, perhaps.”

“He died when she was about twelve. They were as thick as thieves,” she recalled with a tinge of bitterness.

“Was there any place that was special to them? Someone she might go to ground?”

She shook her head. “He used to rent this old cabin near the Catskills off a buddy of his every other year. Winter or summer, Darcy loved it. But it's long gone. Forest fire, I think, the year before his accident.”

Back in his car Agent Barnes reviewed the data points.

Dr Foster had a base of operations somewhere. Had to be private, and as best SHIELD could guess it must be off the grid and Dr Foster must be generating her own power.

Dr Foster was a space nut at heart, and while an abandoned observatory might be too much to ask for, she’d probably want somewhere with minimal light pollution.

And while they could portal anywhere, neither of them spoke any other languages and had no familiarity with any international locations, so they were most likely still State-side. (Dr Foster’s mother had moved to London when Jane was twenty-three, but she’d never found the time to visit.)

Miss Lewis was familiar with the Catskills area. A base of operations there could be very isolated.

Dr Foster was most likely building and modifying her own own equipment so she had to be able to access materials. Sure, she could portal to her local hardware store, but having Darcy drive into the nearest town for supplies would attract less attention.

Miss Lewis had an addiction to coffee procured from Deja Brew, a small hipster chain with only a handful of locations along on the east coast. While she could have found another way to get her caffeine fix, people were creatures of habit.

Miss Lewis was also known for stocking up on poptarts. In one of the only images of the other side of one of Dr Foster’s portals there was what appeared to be, if one squinted, a box of limited edition pop tarts on a counter.

He plugged it all into SHIELD fancy search engines and got a few results back. The most promising was an abandoned ski chalet turned abandoned research station halfway up a mountain, an hour drive away from an up and coming tourist town, whose main street hosted a Deja Brew cafe. They also had a small mom and pop hardware store, as well as a post office, and a grocery store that had still been selling pumpkin pie pop tarts around the time Dr Foster’s portal had been caught on camera.

Agent Barnes came to with a groan. The flesh of his shoulder where it met his prosthetic felt like it was on fire, and he was pretty sure he could smell fried wiring.

The research station had come up in SHIELD’s initial search for a potential mad scientist's lair, but had been dismissed for not using any power and for not sending back any heat signature readings. Perhaps they’d found a way to fool the scanners. Or maybe they just weren’t in the day the readings were taken. Whatever the reason, Agent Barnes had a good feeling about it. He filled his tank up at the nearest gas station and got on the highway, forgoing checking in at the Triskelion on his way past in favour of driving all night. He’d call Hill when he had something solid.

** *** **

“Fuck…”

He willed his eyes open and came face to face with Darth Vader.

Barnes reeled back at the sound of the synthesized voice. “Who sent you? Who do you work for?! The Rebellion?”

“What the fuck!”

It took him until his eyes adjusted to the fluorescent lighting to realise that Darth Vader was wearing a grey knit dress and black tights. Darth Vader laughed and ripped off his mask to reveal a smiling bespectacled brunette underneath. The accomplice. Darcy Lewis.

“Sorry, I was just messing with you, dude,” she teased, tossing the mask over her shoulder. “I’ve always wanted to do that. But seriously, who do you work for? Who knows you’re here?”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” he lied. “I was just camping in the woods, man. I saw the lights and decided to check it out,” he rambled in a lazy Canadian accent. “How the hell did I get here? Did you electrocute me?”

He used his not-quite fake panic to test the limits of his restraints. He’d been strapped into some sort of junkstore barber chair, with thick metal shackles locked around his wrists, ankles, and chest. His metal arm could probably make quick work of them but the damn thing was not responding. His panic became a little less fake.

“Just camping, huh?” she echoed back with a raised eyebrow, leaning forward to the point where Barnes couldn’t avoid getting a good look down her top and the 15-carat pink diamond (worth about 40mil and reported stolen in one of Dr Foster’s vault heists two months ago) hanging around her neck. “So that wasn’t you poking around town this morning?” she asked pointedly, drawing his attention to the wall of monitors he hadn’t noticed showing various street cameras around the town. “I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, dude. You got into town bright and early in a beat up looking truck with plates that didn’t exist two weeks ago and started flashing my yearbook photo around. So, who do you work for?”

He levelled his best steely-eyed agent stare at her and switched back to his native pissed-off Brooklynite accent. “I ain’t tellin you shit, sweetheart.”

“C’mon now,” she cooed, taking a seat on his lap. “Who do you work for? FBI? Interpol? SHIELD? Crawford County Library Services? Listen, I was totally going to return Eat Pray Love, but we had to skip town in a hurry and it got lost in the move. I will totally pay to replace it.”

Years of training (and regular poker games with the Black Widow) had taught him to school his features, even if that last one threw him for a loop.

“Nothing? You sure you don’t want to talk to me? Fine,” she whined. “Jane!”

It was only then that Barnes switched his focus from his captor to his surroundings and realised that there was another occupant puttering about on the other side of the large telescope that took pride of place on a hydraulic platform underneath the research station's retractable roof. The infamous Dr Foster.

“Jane!”

“What?” came the irritated reply.

“Come over here and practise your monologue. Look! You’ve got a captive audience and everything!” she announced, laughing at her own joke.

“I don’t have time, Darcy,” the disgruntled voice argued.

“Hey! I spent two days writing up that monologue, the least you can do is spend twenty-five minutes reading it out loud so I can make sure it doesn’t make you sound too much like a cartoon villain.”

“Twenty-five minutes?! Are you kidding me?” Dr Foster stormed out from behind the telescope to wave a wrench at her assistant. She looked less put together than her ID photo, appearing to be long overdue for both a shower and a nap. “I’m in the middle of something. I’ve almost figured the problem with the mobile portal generator, and… Darcy, why is there a man tied to a chair in my lab?”

“This man?” Darcy snorted, taking Barnes’s chin in her hands and wiggling it about. “This is the intruder. You remember the intruder alert, like fifteen minutes ago? Lots of flashing lights and alarms? Well, I found this guy passed out on the lawn. For most people, hitting my force field would be like getting lightly tased, but this bad boy,” she continued, tapping a fingernail against his dead metal arm, “meant you ended up getting the full 50,000 volts to your heart. Thanks for letting me practice my CPR by the way,” she added with a wink.

“It’s not a force field, Darcy. It’s a glorified invisible pet fence, upsized and modified so it reacts to the electrical impulses in the human body.”

“It keeps people out; I’m calling it a force field.”

This was definitely the weirdest interrogation he had endured by a large margin, Barnes mused as he followed their bickering like a pingpong game.

“Who is he, Darcy?” Jane sighed wearily. “What is he doing here?”

“Fiiiine. Janey, meet Agent James Barnes of SHIELD.”

“What?! SHIELD?!!”Jane screeched. “Why did you bring him here?”

“He found us, Jane. What was I supposed to do?”

“Something other than bringing him inside our secret hideout.”

“I am not killing him and burying him in the woods; I just did my nails.”

Jane scowled, turning the full force of her overtired fury on James. “Why can’t you SHIELD issue jackbooted thugs just leave me alone? Can’t you understand how important my work is? I am challenging the very foundations of modern science - of the laws of the universe! I am on the verge of a breakthrough! And if you or Nick Fury think you can stop me, you’ve got another thing coming!”

Before his mouth could betray him and ask how the hell they knew his boss Darcy spoke up.

“A little off script, but I like the energy, Jane. Very much the mad scientist vibe we’re going for. But next time, try not to make it so personal – we’ve got to hide the target of our frustrations, remember? Instead of saying “SHIELD” say “government”, instead of saying “Nick Fury” say “president”.”

“Right, right,” Jane nodded absently, tapping the side of her head with the wrench she had just been waving around like a weapon.

“Now, go back to work. I’ll handle this.”

“Okay, thanks Darce. Oh, have you seen my soldering iron around?”

“It’s in the locked cabinet because you’re not allowed to use it unsupervised, you know that. Gimme ten minutes, I’ll bring it to you.”

Jane wandered back to her side of the observatory, muttering under her breath, leaving Barnes at Darcy’s mercy.

“She’s not the criminal mastermind here, is she?” he wondered, his eyes roaming over the strange cupcake of a woman in his lap.

“Not exactly,” Darcy admitted. “I mean, it’s not like she set out to be a mad scientist. I kind of rebranded her after that little freeway incident.”

“Rebranded?”

“Yeah. She was in a bad way after New Mexico and then when the first live test of her portal engine went a little sideways I didn’t want dudebros on the internet coming after her, so I changed the narrative. Instead of ‘girl scientist makes mistake, should stick to making sandwiches’ I changed it to ‘Dr Foster, genius astrophysicist, causes chaos, totally on purpose.’”

“And all those robberies?”

“I may have encouraged that. I’m all for sticking it to the one percenters, and Jane needed to fund her experiments somehow,” she added with a shrug.

“So Jane’s the absent-minded professor and you’re the brains behind this operation, huh?”

Darcy laughed and slid out of his lap causing a distracting amount of friction. “I’m really not. So you, Coulson, and Fury should be really, really scared.”

“How do you know those names?” he had to know, cover be damned.

“You don’t know? Of course you don’t,” she huffed. “Fury and his clearance levels. I’d tell you to ask him about New Mexico sometime, but you’re not going to be able to.”

“Why not? What are you going to do to me?” Barnes fretted, unable to ignore the sinking feeling that he was in big trouble; she wouldn’t have told him anything if she intended on letting him walk out of here.

“Oh, relax. I’m not going to kill you. I’m just gonna scramble your brain a little.”

She circled his chair, flipping switches as she went, and something behind him started humming ominously.

“So, admittedly I didn’t major in hard sciences. I had an ex who did, but he also fancied himself something of a cat burglar, so when he went to jail I liberated all his college textbooks and gave myself a crash course in electrical engineering. And it helped that those HYDRA designs were really easy to follow.”

“HYDRA?” Barnes cursed.

HYDRA had been the scientific branch of the Nazi regime and believed that discovery required (human) experimentation. They were supposedly eradicated at the end of WWII but Project Paperclip saved some of HYDRA’s greatest minds, giving them immunity in exchange for their genius. If Foster or, more worryingly, Darcy had aligned themselves with some surviving HYDRA faction the results could be catastrophic.

“Yeah, I found them in that SHIELD warehouse when we recovered Jane’s stolen research.”

“What are you talking about?”

“They just call it ‘The Chair’, which is totally not creepy at all,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “And this is the Halo,” she added, drawing Barnes’s attention to the whirring circle of metal that was lowering itself over his head.

“What the hell are you doing?” he shouted, renewing his efforts to break free of his restraints. “Get that piece of scrap metal the fuck away from me!”

“Hey! Don’t mock my work. It may look like I raided a junkyard for the components - and I did - but my welding game is on point. It’s totally safe. Mostly safe. It’s just going to send focused electrical pulses to your…” she paused to consult some smudged writing on her hand, “hippocampus and prefrontal cortex.”

The Halo stopped moving and two metal plates extended, pressing against the sides of his head, holding it like a vice.

“Please… don’t do this,” he begged as she approached him with a rubber mouthguard.

“C’mon, open wide. You don’t want to end up braindead and unable to chew your food,” she jested, waving the thing in front of him. “Oh, just one question before I fry your brain,” she added just when he was about to give in. “How did you find us? I was so careful,” she whined.

Agent Barnes, terrified as he was, still managed to look smug at his small, short lived success. “Deja Brew coffee.”

“Curses!” she wailed theatrically. “Betrayed by my one true love!”

Darcy huffed and quickly returned her attention to the matter at hand.

“Thanks for that,” she said with a smile as she forced him to bite down on the mouthguard. “I’ll know better for next time. Start making my own coffee at home… but it never tastes as good,” she muttered to herself.

She stepped away from him and bent down to pick up a similarly frankensteined industrial remote with long wires snaking back to the chair and a clichéd big red button at its centre. He began struggling anew, screaming around the foul tasting rubber, begging for mercy.

She took great delight in his terrified expression and put on her best supervillain voice, “Give my regards to Nick Fury.”

Nick Fury observed his agent from behind a two way mirror as he sat behind a table in an interrogation room. Barnes had been sitting there for the past hour as still as a statue, except for his unfocused eyes which flitted about the room.

In true horror movie fashion, Agent Barnes’ screams echoed down the mountainside like an avalanche, sending animals fleeing in terror for miles around.

** *** **

Local LEO’s had found him wandering aimlessly down a stretch of highway just outside the ruins of what had previously been Puente Antiguo, New Mexico, and ten minutes after they ran his prints Agent Romanoff had been on a quinjet to collect him. She’d been directed to the nearest hospital and found him sitting up on a bed but not responding or reacting to any of the medical staff as they buzzed around him. Agent Romanoff took a cautious step forward and held her breath as his unfocused eyes settled on her.

“Hello James...”

An excruciating minute later the veil lifted and he attempted a smile.

“Hey Tasha.”

She’d brought him back to base and dragged him to SHIELD’s medical bay for more tests - not that Barnes put up much of a fight, in fact he was terrifyingly compliant. The SHIELD doctors confirmed what the New Mexico doctors suspected: the bruising and electrical burns around his temples and his memory loss were indicative of some back alley version of electroshock therapy. His memories should come back in time - how long was anybody’s guess - but for the moment Agent James Barnes had no memory of the last four weeks.

Fury picked up a tablet with depressingly little information on its screen and stepped into the room, waiting for Barnes eyes to focus on him before taking a seat.

“Agent Barnes.”

“Director.”

“I know you’re probably sick of questions by now, but I have a few more for you, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah, sure…”

It rankled Fury to no end how meak and passive Barnes seemed. Heaven help him, he missed the argumentative sonofabitch.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Being called into your office.”

“What for?”

“I punched Rumlow.”

“Why?”

“He was bragging about taking advantage of a drunk woman at a club when he was last on leave. He didn’t like me calling out his shitty behaviour. He punched me, I punched him back.”

Fury sighed. He hadn't gotten a straight answer out of Barnes at the time of the incident and he couldn’t feel happy about getting one now.

“Do you remember what happened once I called you into my office?”

His brow creased and his eyes zipped back and forth like the carriage of a printer as his mind searched for the elusive memory.

“You suspended me?”

“I did,” Fury confirmed. “For a whole month. But two weeks into it I pulled you in for a special assignment.”

Barnes tensed, shrinking in on himself. The confusion about his lost time seemed to be the only thing that got under his skin, but only when someone brought it up. Once the moment passed he forgot to be concerned about it.

Fury took pity on him. “For the past two weeks I had you running down leads on the whereabouts of Dr Jane Foster.”

“The scientist with the portals? Did she do this to me?”

“It’s not exactly her MO, but then again no law enforcement agency’s ever managed to have a confrontation with her. Never had the chance. Those portals of hers let her keep at a distance. You might have been the first person to have a face to face with her, but I can’t confirm it because I don’t know where the hell you were when this happened,” he grumbled, letting a little more of his usual exasperated tone filter through. “You missed check in by two days. The last we heard from you, you were at Culver running down leads on what you said was a potential accomplice. We found your car in Tromso, Norway, a day after you were found on the side of a road in New Mexico. You don’t appear on any security footage or speed cameras in the area. There’s no activity on your work or personal credit cards. Your activity logs on our highly secure system for the last two weeks are nonexistent, as are your call logs on your work phone. Even the messages you sent Romanoff from your personal phone complaining about your assignment have since been deleted - from her phone too. She’s real pissed about it. As far as your digital footprint is concerned you disappeared from a gas station outside Roanoke, Virginia, last week - do you know how weird it is to know you were headed out towards a place called Roanoke only to up and vanish?” He sighed at Barnes’ painful silence. “Is there anything you can remember, anything at all about Dr Foster or her accomplice? Anything that will help us catch up to you without talking to everyone on campus to figure out what you discovered?”

Barnes’ brow creased in painful confusion.

“I think… I think I saw Darth Vadar.”

Director Fury blinked. “Right…” He took a deep breath to stop himself from venting his frustrations at Barnes, the sorry bastard looked like a kicked puppy as it was. Instead he got up and tapped the tablet against the metal tabletop harder than strictly necessary. “Well, I’ll just go put out a BOLO out for Darth Vadar then.”

“Okay,” Barnes murmured, and promptly zoned out again.

Agent Romanoff exited the viewing room looking uncharacteristically unsettled.

“I want a full detail on him at all times,” Fury ordered as he stormed off towards the elevators. Hill had just stepped off and was looking even more grim than usual. “Until his memories come back he’s vulnerable, and once they do he’ll be a target.”

“I’ll get a STRIKE team on it. Not Rumlow’s.”

“Get another one along with any assets currently not on assignment. Flood that campus, interrogate everybody. I wanna know who the hell Dr Foster’s accomplice is, and I wanna know yesterday. Understood?”

“I think we might have more pressing concerns, sir,” Hill reported, tapping at her tablet as it beeped erratically. “Coulson’s said there’s an issue with the Tesseract. Dr. Selvig read an energy surge from it fifteen minutes ago.”

“NASA didn't authorise Selvig to test phase,” he grunted, taking the tablet from Hill.

“He wasn't testing it, he wasn't even in the room. Spontaneous advancement.”

“Motherfucker.”

#you say mad scientist like it's a bad thing #freudensteins-fics #mad scientist jane foster #competent assistant darcy lewis #shield agent bucky barnes #torture #aftermath of torture #amnesia #winter soldier memory wipe chair #darcy lewis #jane foster #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #nick fury #maria hill

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vale-studies-ir · 3 years

Text

Hello lovely people!

It seems that life made me take a leave of absence from tumblr. Thanks to all of you who have continued to interact with my page! I'm sorry if I've missed any messages or questions in the time that I've been away. I'm back now and I'll continue to share my journey with you all...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In order to be able to keep moving forward, I think it's important to accept the past and move on. Accept any of the difficulties that happened, and see them as moments you've gone through that have made you stronger. My way of accepting and turning over a new page will be through this post.

I haven't shared too much information about my studies and how they've been going. My studyblr was very new, and I was using it more as a means for motivation by seeing all the wonderful things people in the community were doing. Little by little, I started to make posts of my own.

So let me formally introduce myself and share my ongoing journey...

My name is Valentina, I go by Vale for short. I jumped from graduating from my BA in International Relations and Political Science in the Spring of 2018 to starting my PhD studies in International Relations the Fall semester of that same year. No break, very smart... I know. That's only just the beginning. I'm not sure how it works abroad, but here doctoral students usually go through most of their studies being funded by a graduate assistantship. This pays tuition and provides a stipend through working as a TA (graduate teaching assistant). Of course they vary across universities and departments. When I was applying to the PhD program, one of my professors advised me not to accept if I was not given funding. There are only a limited number of spots that are given to incoming students each year that will be accepted as a TA.

In March of 2018 I received notification that I was accepted into the PhD program in International Relations at my university, however, the department could not guarantee funding for me. This put me at a loss, and I spend months wondering where this was going and what I would do. Because I'm an immigrant in the US, though I've been living here practically my whole life, I didn't have too many options. My mobility is constrained.. my access to scholarships is constrained (even though I may qualify for them in terms of academics and merit, migration status trumps over all of it). I was lost, to say the least. My family can't afford to have paid for this program or a Master's program out of pocket, and I am not able to take out student loans even if I wanted to.

Regardless of this all, I still attended the incoming graduate student orientation; which surprised the outgoing graduate program director. She did not think I would show up, considering the whole funding predicament. She and the new GPD told me that they would try to find something for me. On the first day of class, I showed up, still not knowing what would become of this situation. Not knowing if I would actually get to start the semester or not. We are usually given a week to pay tuition - because of status, I am considered an international student so my tuition came out to nearly $10,000 for three courses. That day, out of nowhere, I was told that the dean of our school (School of International and Public Affairs) was looking for a graduate assistant for new projects that he wanted to work on. In the span of a few hours, I ended up interviewing with him, being told that they would let me know because there was another student they were considering, and later being called and told that I got the position. I was ecstatic. I called my parents in tears. This was actually happening; I was actually going to be able to start my PhD.

It all happened so fast. It all seemed so exciting. The dean seemed very enthusiastic and pleased that I would be working with him. Things eventually took a turn for the worst...

Transitioning into graduate school itself is extremely difficult. Many graduate students find themselves experiencing heightened stress and strain on their mental health. I did not give myself the space to transition into graduate school without the added stress of being a doctoral student, without the added expectations. On top of that, the dean had not had a graduate assistant before. This was new for him too. The expectations of me were blurred and my contract would only last for a year to be considered for possible renewal (the typical TA contract in my original department lasts 4 years), this led to disaster. I needed this position to continue to fund my studies, so I needed to make sure that I was on top of my work expectations. Because these expectations were unclear, the dean's secretary took advantage. It seems they were short staffed, and I was given administrative tasks that did not belong to me. I was made to come in to the office for strictly 20 hours a week. (Our contract states that we work up to 20 hours a week). If I was ever sick and missed a day, that would be added onto the hours for the next week. So if I missed a day where I was supposed to be in the office for 5 hours, I'd have to be there for 25 hours the following week. A breach in the contract, I know - but who was I, a lowly student, against the dean? This office (a shared space) was not a place where a person could focus on studying. There were students coming in and out, loud conversations occurring, and having to see if the actual student employee in charge of taking phone calls was at their desk - if not, I would have to man the phone. While I was doing administrative tasks for the dean's secretary, the dean was having me create themed presentations and CO-LECTURE with him. Me, a person who had been an undergraduate student only months earlier. I had to create these presentations from scratch and know all of the material. All of my focus had to be on this. My performance in my own classes and mental health declined quickly. I could not focus, I could not get my reading assignments done, I felt unprepared. I felt like a failure.

After a year, I realized that it was not worth to have my tuition paid for if I could not focus on my classes and was set up for failure. It took a lot, but ultimately I turned down the contract renewal. Here comes the fun part. My GPA dropped tremendously. I graduated Magna Cume Laude just a year before. I developed depression and didn't realize it; to the point where a friend practically made me go to counseling. The office manager at my actual department knew what I was going through. I had shared a lot of my experience with her. She advocated for me. Because of this, I was told that there was a student who had been awarded an assistantship for the incoming Fall 2019 semester, but had decided not to take it. The contract was going to be made for me instead, for not 4 but for 5 years since I had only come in with a BA degree. When they ran it through the associate dean's office... it was denied. My GPA was lower than the threshold. A LOT lower. I was told by the GPD - the same woman who had just started her position that said she would help me, the woman that had gone on maternity leave during that whole year after she started meaning she was not aware of the situation - that I should really take my studies more seriously. She received a very long email from me and apologized afterwards, to say the least. Nothing could be done.

I had no funding, only savings and ended up working Full Time in Fall of 2019 in order to try to pay for 1 course, that costed me a little over $3,000. Somehow, even though I strongly considered it, I managed not to drop out. By this time, the majority of the courses I had taken before had INs - incomplete grades. Two of them had automatically turned into Fs. Things were not okay.

I got a bit of a mental break during that Fall semester. I worked in a friendly environment. The office manager pulled some strings and let me work as an office assistant there... so I was still at my department, but working as staff. It was a little awkward. I'm eternally grateful to her, she became a close friend. And because of her, someone at another department got word that there was a graduate student who needed funding.

This office manager was good friends with a recently graduated phd student from our department who is now working for a different center in the university. Because she was part of my department, many of my current colleagues know her, and are good friends with her. We spoke, I rushed to get my GPA up to the 3.0 threshold and with the help of my professor's I was able to be awarded an assistantship with that center. I started in December of 2019.

Again, I was ecstatic. Things were looking up. When I went in for the first time, I immediately felt a huge difference. It was a smaller, more homey place; and a lovely environment to be in. The people there were sweet and caring. I've gotten along with the few professors I've had the chance of meeting and working with.

Where did it start going downhill? The professor that recommended me (graduate from my home department) continuously requested that I work with her. Her reason being that I got along better with her (something that I was not aware of). Because she considered herself as my friend, professional lines were horribly blurred. I found myself doing additional work for her as a "favor for a friend." She then started having us meet multiple times a week for hours - distracting from the time I needed to actually get work done. This center does not cap classes - I've had to grade for up to 400 students in one semester. The meetings she scheduled were incredibly unproductive, and I found myself having to take extra time to get the grading done. Again, my own studies were effected. The past academic year went on like this. I ended up assisting in creating a new course and new assignments from scratch.

Later I noticed that something was wrong. I was doing way more work than stipulated by my contract. She was giving me access to her courses that I was not assigned to grade for. Instead of assisting for one course in the semester (the one with the highest enrollment), I was assisting for three. This was constantly under the guise of 'friendship'. How was I supposed to reject my 'friend'? When I tried to draw professional boundaries, I was met with resistance.

My mental health declined again in the fall and I missed a few of her scheduled meetings (meetings which she said were NOT mandatory). Because of this, she decided to throw me under the bus with the director and making it seem as if I was not actually working - when I was addressing students' needs and getting grades in. This worsened in the Spring. With the help of my counselor I finally got the courage to communicate with her. Albeit through text, because she's the type of person that does not allow you to get a word in during conversation.

"On that note, there’s something I’ve wanted to talk about. I’ve been struggling with concentration and fatigue. This is something that I’ve been working on with my doctor to try to find solutions. I’ve noticed that being in Zoom meetings in general where there’s casual conversation makes it exceptionally difficult for me to focus on what I’m trying to get done. This has been problematic in the work zoom meetings. You probably have noticed I seem really quiet, that is because I’m trying my hardest to focus.

I need to be able to focus during the time I’m assigned to work as a GA. Otherwise, I must take more time to complete tasks that normally wouldn’t take up that long or just wait until the weekends to finish them. That is conflicting as I have set that time to work on class assignments and my own projects. So in the end I end up falling behind and not working well because my productivity levels are being affected."

She seemed to understand me and be supportive. Then I noticed coldness, and condescending passive aggressive texts from her part.

I realized that I could not do this any longer. I could not allow myself to continuously be taken advantage of. Both of the people I've worked for were aware of my vulnerable situation due to migration status. They both knew that it was not easy for me to pay for my studies through any other means. My studies depended on these people, and if they 'liked' me. They abused and absorbed my time to the extent that my studies suffered tremendously.

But I finally stood up for myself. I spoke with the director and she affirmed that my concerns were valid. Time and time again she assured me that my studies should always come first. She supported me. I will no longer be assigned to work with this person.

I finally feel heard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been 3 years since I started my program. A lot has happened in this time. I have a lot of catching up to do this summer if I want to stay on track and take my comprehensive exams by the end of the year. But someone finally heard me, acknowledged the wrongdoings and helped me.

Don't let people walk over you and take advantage of you. I'm learning this the hard way.

Speak your truth.

#my story #my phd story #experiences #struggles #growth #don't give up #don't silence yourself #share your story #speak your truth #long post #studyblr #phdblr #phd studyblr #phd student #gradblr #grad student #stand up for yourself #keep moving forward

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wtffundiefamilies · 3 years

Text

From reddit user bubblegum1286. What might have been for Josh.

I interned for a year as a counseling grad student for an SOTP (sex offender treatment prevention) program. Here's the help Josh should have received years ago...

The program I worked with had men from ages 16 up to old old men. It was a court-mandated program that was required as part of their probation or parole (depending on their sentencing). The crimes ranged from possession of child pornography to aggravated sexual assault and torture with a deadly weapon. Some guys had never served any actual time in jail, while one man had just been released after 45 years in prison. So we had a hodgepodge you could say.

The program in my local city is/was run by a PhD psychologist and a licensed marriage and family therapist who also happened to be a former sheriff's deputy who worked for twenty years in law enforcement. These guys didn't take bullshit. They were amazingly professional and working with them was an excellent experience for me. Only two graduate students were selected each year to intern in this program, and I considered myself very honored to get to work with them. It was eye-opening to say the least.

The primary aspects of the program have been explained by other snarky mental health professionals (I love that you guys came out of the woodworks to add to this). Accountability is huge.

We did six hours of group therapy sessions every single week. Every week, their POs would come by to make sure they were attending in person. Arrest warrants were issued for missing even one session. This was a very important aspect of the program.

Our sessions always involved open accountability in which we would revisit the nature of the crimes involved. We swept nothing under the rug. They went around the room every single week and stated why they were in attendance with this particular group of people. This isn't intended to shame them, but rather to keep their crimes at the forefront of their thoughts so they stay more closely connected with the nature of their crimes. Distancing oneself from the nature and weight of your own sins or compartmentalizing "that aspect of your life" causes you to feel like "I'd never do that again! That's in the past. That's so long ago, I don't even remember."

The victims will never forget.

So each session would go around the circle like this: "I'm Josh. I served three months in county and a year of probation for touching my underage sisters in their private places." The doctor would then say, "Please only use correct anatomical terms." And J would then say, "I touched my sister over her clothes on her vagina and under her clothes on her breast."

They would go around the room saying this. The new ones struggled very badly saying what they did or using correct terminology for body parts, but the guys who had been in the program for years would rattle this off like ordering from McD's.

We focused on all kinds of things in therapy- triggers, temptations, personal struggles that might weaken their resolve to never offend again, etc. For example, the loss of a job could send an offender into a mental tailspin where they start thinking about offending again. So those things were addressed and worked through.

Triggers were a huge topic of discussion. We used a method of cognitive behavioral therapy where the men would recognize their own thought patterns and stop themselves before they even began walking down that mental path. If there were certain smells associated with their sexual fantasies or certain songs on the radio or locations, whatever, we would work with the men to take these thoughts and triggers captive and be fully aware of them. If someone shared that they had a fantasy (sexual or violent in nature) about a woman at the grocery store, it was noted and reported to their PO. But then in the actual group session, it was dissected entirely. Not "what was she wearing." No. More of like, "What triggered your weakness? Were you taking care of yourself and your own thoughts? Have you been seeking out pornography lately?" That sort of thing.

Now, I didn't participate in the one on one sessions. The men were regularly given psychosexual polygraph tests if there was any concern that they were potentially re-offending. (I understand there's plenty of debate about the validity of polygraphs, but this is a fairly standard practice at finding out if someone has been reoffending in a counseling type setting like this one).

They also went through a kind of test called the penile plethysmograph where an offender would actually have a device put around his penis and he would be shown images and the device would read what aroused him. I, as a female intern student, never participated in these tests, but I was told all about them by the doctors at the facility. I had a lot of questions regarding how these men were held accountable outside of the group therapy sessions and PO check ins. From my understanding, this tool was used primarily on the child sex offenders, not the cases of adult sexual assault, but I could be mistaken. It's been a few years.

The program made a huge emphasis on accountability outside of the group. We kept in close contact with these men's families, bosses, and other people who would serve as accountability partners throughout the re-entrance to society process. We made a big emphasis on service. "Your brother allowed for you to move in with him after your release. What have you done for him this week?" I had one guy who got out of prison after a very long stint, moved in with his brother (who's home was approved since it was not near a school, playground, community center, or church), and he struggled to find a job. No one would hire a felon, much less a registered sex offender. So he spent that entire summer renovating his brother's garage. He built shelving, organized junk, built cabinets, etc. I could tell it was healing for him to give back to his brother for giving him this second chance. (He was one of the good ones who I walked away truly believing wouldn't offend again. It's been six years and so far he hasn't). We also checked in with these family members, friends, and employers so they were a big part of the process.

We frequently talked about improper or inappropriate or disrespectful kinds of attention. In other words, we were trying to teach these men to stop being creepy or stop being predatorial towards others.

We offered sex education in a healthy, rehabilitative way. We talked a lot about consent. We talked about how you can violate a person with your eyes even if you aren't touching them or talking to them.

These guys also have no internet, no computers, no smart phones, etc. That was also monitored.

This program was the end of the line. You don't come, you go to jail. You don't participate, you go to jail. These men had all been convicted, so this wasn't an alternative program to time served. I understand this may be more than Josh would have endured were he turned in appropriately, but I think he still would have endured a similar rehabilitation program.

I know people might jump on me because Josh was still a minor at the time of his crimes, and I realize that some of these methods wouldn't be utilized on a minor. However, my point is this: If he had been properly reported, the courts, counselors, doctors, etc. would have moved heaven and earth to try and rehabilitate him and to protect those girls.

I understand, as a parent, that the idea of your child doing something so unspeakable is stomach-churning. I can't even fathom how horrifying it was for Meesh to hear that he was touching the girls. However, I do not believe that all hope is lost for all sexual criminals - to a certain point. I worry that Josh is past the point of no return. To hear the descriptions of the porn he was viewing is sickening.

Unfortunately, we won't ever know what could have become of him if he had been dealt with sooner.

#Josh Duggar #JimBob Duggar #Michelle Duggar #sin in the camp #team legitimate rape #duggar family

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