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sandrayprotector · 1 year ago

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Ray from the perspective of an addict and mentally ill person

TW // addiction, death, depression, self-harm, drug abuse

Addiction from the POV of a [former] addict (prescription medicine, alcohol, deodorant, self-harm) and the parallels to Ray and his behavior.

I'll be totally open and vulnerable here, I'll be honest about my experiences and about the pros and cons which I have lived through. And I will be drawing the parallels between my former behavior and how Ray acts and pointing out why he might act certain ways and I'll give you the POV of someone who lost a loved one to addiction as well.

So please proceed with caution ⚠️

What is addiction? When does it start?

Clinically there is a perfect definition for that. It is an illness (yet many don't seem to view it as that)

But personally I can't really tell you the moment, the one thing that made me realize I'm an addict.

It's a slow process and that's making it so hard to realize.

I've been on ADHD meds since i was 7 years old, hence didn't really have the chance of a sober life from the start. I was misdiagnosed, the ADHD pills didn't really do much for me other than make me addicted and give me a cushion that wrapped me, shielding me from my own feelings.

Once that cushion was taken away from me, I spiraled. I was 11 years old. I tried to find something new, something to deal with my newly found emotions, something to deal with some trauma I've experienced in that time and I started abusing ibuprofen(which I found In my parents drawer) and started self-harming (which as well can be classed as addiction).

I started drinking when I was 12, black out drunk the first time when I was 13, the same time I started smoking cigarettes. As I said, I never really had a sober life. At age 14 I started using deodorant, the spray ones, inhaling the toxines. It helped me - for 30 minutes. Deodorant is so, so dangerous you can die, the first time you're using it. It's not some soft drug or anything it's life threatening and 4 of my friends went into the hospital because of it. I was "lucky" enough it never happened to me, maybe it should have maybe I had stopped.

At age 15/16 my excessive alcohol consume finally caught the eye of my little brother, begging me to stop come home pissed drunk nearly everyday. I didn't listen, I thought I had everything under control or didn't want to admit I fell in a rabbit hole. I was on 4 different anti-depressants at that time, the addiction already had taken a toll on me, and my mental health declined further. Anti-depressants and Alcohol are a toxic combination, it wasn't a very bright time.

This went on until I was 18 and had it's peak when I was 19, living alone with my boyfriend (at that time) for the first time in my life. Waking up, drinking 1 Liter of box red wine, smoking a cigarette, taking my pills, go out, drink more, abuse deodorant, pass out, repeat. In between self-harm was still something I used to control my feelings. and I don't really have many memories of that time it's all just a big blur. My family and friends had distanced from me for a while at that point. I was a burden, didn't listen to them, began being verbally violent towards them and even physically violent at some point. I was a horrible person.

I had a turning point when I turned 20, I found a person willing to put up with me, reaching their hand out to me, willing to help and destroy themselves in the run. Well it wasn't all sunshine in the beginning we abused alcohol and w33d together, getting high almost everyday, it was like a ritual for both of us. The only positive outcome was that my self-harming became less and less over time. I stopped using my anti-depressants (never NEVER do that like me without going to a doctor). And my life seemed to get better.

I started getting horror trips from the w33d and stopped using it. I started to get pretty heavy hangovers from the alcohol my body was at a point where it began to crumble. And finally, my mind snapped and I realized I needed to change ( after having lost almost all my friends and family) after destroying my body to a point where I still to date have problems. I was 22 at that point.

I got into therapy and worked my way out.

I'm still an addict, I still think about almost all the time. When i drink alcohol it's very hard to stop myself from over-drinking, I still self-harm, still take more ibuprofen than prescribed but I'm good, as far as i can be. Addiction is hell, it's messing up your life and leaves you with a blur of memories that don't feel like they're yours. It takes a toll on your body and mind. It's really like burning in hell fire.

The POV of someone who lost a loved one to addiction

I was 13 when my first love overdosed on heroin. He was the very first person who genuinely showed me love, told me I was perfect the way I was.

I got to know him when I was 11, after I was assaulted in a Park. He was 12 at the time, turning 13 shortly after.

He already was smoking and drinking when I got to know him. And looking back it seems that we spiraled together, he fell harder than I did.

He used weed for the first time on his 13th birthday. and on his 14th birthday he was already addicted to Heroin.

We had great times together, I loved him unconditionally. We weren't together (we never got together) but we cared for each other deeply. It was a love on another level something that only comes once in a lifetime.

He changed. Not only his looks ; he got more skinny, his eyes (beautiful eyes, so beautiful) were sunken in, his skin was ashy etc. But his personality changed as well. He was still a wonderful person, still caring, still the perfect boy (in my eyes). But he was careless, his life didn't seem to mean much to him anymore. He was rarely sober, rarely able to stand or walk straight. He was tired all the time, and if he was on turkey ( withdrawal) he became unbearable, even violent at times.

It was heaven and hell being close to him. Like Ikarus burning his wings on the sun honestly. And I was only a child as well, I was only 11, 12, 13...

You can only do so much when someone you love struggles with addiction and I was an active addict myself, even though I wasn't aware of it at that time. I was a heavy drinker, self-harmed. We were so toxic for each other, so, so toxic.

And the sad part was that no one noticed. No one noticed us spiraling, his fresh needle marks in the arms. Or they turned a blind eye, kept telling themselves that everything was alright, I don't know.

His aunt (he didn't live with his parents) saw him as burden, told him he was a burden to her and her family. He took that to his heart. He often cried because he asked himself what he did wrong to be treated like that. We (me and his best friend) didn't have an answer for him.

When he turned 16, I didn't know that it would be the last birthday we would be celebrating together - only 3 days later he was dead. He only had the chance to be 16 for 3 days. 16 years and 3 days. I knew him for 3 years and 2 weeks.

I found him. He overdosed in a dirty bathroom, all alone. There was no one there to help him. And I blame myself till now (14 years later) that if I had arrived just a few minutes earlier, if I had slept over like I had promised the day before, he would still be here.

I've never been to his grave, I didn't go to his funeral. I physically can't.

I miss him so damn much, every day.

And the worst is that not even that stopped me from my addictions, it didn't make me realize that I was slowly approaching the same fate. I would say it made it worse, on my 14th birthday I smoked weed for the first time, 2 month after his death. And I only spiraled from there.

He wasn't the best and most loyal friend. He was an idiot at times, angry and violent at others. He stole multiple times from me, because he didn't have enough money to feed his addiction. He picked fights, randomly without reasoning and very uncalled for.

But he was my idiot. Mine. Maybe I can't be objective when talking about him. Maybe my lingering feelings want me to see him in a better light.

I did suffer a lot in this friendship, wanted to call it quits often. I even told him once or twice that he's destroying me, but I won't ever leave him.

I found a letter after I found him. I still keep that letter. "Princess, I needed to die so you can live." i never hated him more than in that moment. But now that I'm an adult, I understand that maybe he was right.

I'm sorry for rambling, sorry for making you read this confession/cry idk what to call it.

I loved an addict, I loved a wonderful boy who took one false turn. I lost an addict, I lost the shell of the wonderful who Nico once was.

Parallels between my experience/behavior and Ray's in only friends

Okay let's look at Ray's background.

The first parallel I want to point out is Trauma.

Ray's Mother's Death - drinking to death

In my case it was a friend overdosing in front of my eyes, I found him just like Ray did with his mother

I was 11 turning 12, I think Ray was around that same age, maybe a year or 2 older.

My friend died age 16 with a needle in his arm. Addiction and death don't know age.

Okay so, 1st point, experiencing trauma at a young age.

2nd from what I saw Ray didn't really get help with his trauma, just the same as me, driving him to depression (more severely). If you have no help, especially at that age, you WILL spiral

3rd :

Your friends start to distance themselves (which is their right in some way)

My friends dealt with me the same ways Ray's friends deal with him. They tried, they really did try to help me, but they were just teenagers/young adults themselves

You can't expect someone that age to help an addict.

BUT what they and my friends could've done, would be sending us to a psych ward, you can do that if it's a life threatening situation, which Ray is in and which I was in as well.

4th

Anger issues when being drunk.

Most of the time we see Ray as this cute puppy with big eyes, but the moment he drinks, he has violent tendency.

Which I can just say I did as well. Alcohol doesn't numb you, it brings your feelings to the surface

Feelings you've bottled up deep inside, trying to numb them with other things (in Ray's case probably c0c4ine, in my case deodorant)

5th

Being clingy to strangers

this may surprise you but I can totally get why Ray clinged to Sand after he helped him that one time.

You're just such a sucker for human interaction, physical touch, feeling worthy, you really don't care from where you get it

In my case even though I am asexual I slept around a lot at that time, trying to get that little bit of love no one could give me

And seeing how Ray acts, it's the same for him as well

6th

Manipulation

Yes Ray is manipulative, not in the way Boston is, but still.

He knows how to get what he wants and knows exactly what to do to reach his goal.

As an an addict your life basically becomes a lie at one point or the other.

You lie to yourself, the people around you, and sometimes even build your own world in which you can enable yourself.

And all of that while being 40% aware of what you're doing (Ray knows exactly how to get Sand to do what he wants)

7th

Playing it down

"Just for the little sip"

"I'm a light weight"

"I'm not that drunk"

Constantly playing down the severity of the problem is something I did as well and we've seen it from Ray more than once.

8th

crying for help but don't actually want help

Ray not once but multiple times basically cried for help, not only the obvious (bathtub scene) but the time when he told Sand why his mother died, just when he poured alcohol, the times he claimed he's just a burden and so on. All of those are indirectly cries for help, yet no one notices.

And I promise even if they would try to help, Ray would just turn it down. Because why would he want to lose something that helps him get through life.

I was the same

Addiction isn't black and white. It's often Grey. Addiction can be your best friend and worst nightmare.

Addiction isn't something you can battle alone, and the battle will never stop.

It's even more dangerous if you have other mental issues as well

Ray definitely suffers from depression and maybe a personality disorder. Anxiety could also be a possibility, that guy is severely sick.

As in my case I have a few diagnosis, borderline, anxiety and depression being the most severe.

Being in Ray's shoes is not an easy walk. It's exhausting, it's pulling you down. And I can totally relate to his su1cidal tendencies because I was at that point more than once as well.

It's hell being an addict, even more so when your whole social bubble basically enables your behavior (Ray's Friends do that, mine did as well)

And it's so easy pulling everyone down the hole with you. Everyone will burn themselves on you, they will get hurt.

You can't expect a healthy relationship to someone with a severe addiction, they're toxic and they will kick you out of your comfortable life.

But they're sick and they need help, not beating them down when they're already on the ground.

I hope I could give you a little more insight and if you have questions please don't shy away and ask me whatever you want 🥺🥰

You're worthy, you're strong, you're amazing, I'm proud of you and wish you nothing but the best in life

#khaotung thanawat #gmmtv #bl drama #firstkhaotung #only friends the series #sandray #ray only friends #addiction #mental health #mental illness #awareness #thai bl

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mwagneto · 5 years ago

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quarantine tips, from someone who was homeschooled over 2 years ago & whose parents tend to leave for months at a time

talk to people as much as you can. seriously. not face to face obviously but call, text, write letters idc anything you can but do not let yourself get isolated, that shit will kill you or make you go insane faster than any virus

try to keep moving. I know we all want to be lazy and I don't mean "start a workout routine" but walk around your house for a few minutes every hour at least

getting used to this is gonna be incredibly hard, but you're gonna have to because it's not going away. the schedule you were used to is gone all of a sudden and it's jarring but do your best to mentally adjust yourself to life without going to school or work etc

watch the shows and movies you've been meaning to watch. now's the time to start something really long like doctor who or those detective shows that have a million seasons and counting

remember how much most of us loved to read before school killed that passion? try to start over. pick up the book you used to love. just generally start reading

having things to look forward to is very important or else the monotony and loneliness will consume you.

make plans even if they might be cancelled. think about what you'll do once the quarantine is lifted. think about summer, and autumn, and winter, and what you're gonna do then

catch up on ongoing shows so you have the next episodes to look forward to. this might sound silly but this is literally how I kept myself alive some time ago

there are a lot of hobbies considered to be lazy or useless just because they can only be done at home. this is bullshit and they're super fun. try to pick up knitting or sewing or cross stitching etc or my personal favourite which is both fun and useful, baking and cooking

getting fresh air and sun is still very important especially in times like these when you need to keep your immune system healthy. if you have a balcony or a garden try going out at least for a short time

as much as you hate doing it, now's the time to do some deep cleaning. wash your windows, the walls, doorknobs, under the cabinets, that one spot you never clean because you don't think it's that important and you'll do it later. you're gonna be spending even more time at home than before so try to make your environment look nice

and again, please please try to keep talking to your friends and family as much as possible, the most dangerous part of isolation is what it does to your mind, humans are inherently social creatures and need interaction to survive and stay healthy, even tho you can't see them face to face, texting or calling is more than nothing

as a ps because I see it happen all the time, don't cry "ok neurotypical" I've been dealing with depression since I was 10 and I know how hard some of this stuff can be but not doing anything or talking to anyone for days or even weeks on end can take a horrible toll on your body and mind, I would know, so for your own good please try not to succumb to the loneliness

#i hope this can help someone #like genuinely loneliness will kill you #last year when my parents left for 40 days my mental health got so bad because i #decided i wouldn't talk to anyone #it was the worst dpd period of my life #corona #coronavirus #covid-19 #quarantine

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yelenasdog · 4 years ago

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it was a pleasure to burn (spencer reid x fem bau!reader)

genre: fluff i think even though the name is v angsty LOL it’s a literal screenplay with the amout of dialogue i wrote LMAO so idk

summary: a particularly rough and disturbing case gets to reader, and spencer and reader are brought together by this.

words: just about 6k (my longest fic ahhHH)

warnings: typical criminal minds gore and violence just up a notch, they get on a plane at the end, somebody gets ~shot~, somebody gets ~bonked~, cursing, mentions of reid’s addiction, and i think that’s it. also the reader wears reading glasses but that’s the only predetermined factor of appearance. btw i don’t think i used any pronouns in this but i apologize if i’m wrong.

a/n: LMFAO i was outside awhile ago celebrating litha with a nice lil hike and i saw a butterfly and i had just started watching cm and was like hMMm... killer who’s obsessed with symmetry??!1??!? y Es. enjoy 😼 EDIT: THERE IS SO MANY PLOT HOLES OMG FBREHJBFHEJFRE IM RBFBRE

🂦∙🂦∙🂦

Present Day, Central Park, New York

“Aren’t they just stunning?” The unsub spoke, keeping her eyes trained on the butterfly sitting happily on her finger. The brightly colored creature fluttered off her hand that was dripping scarlet, flying around her curly head of brown hair. Her, formerly white, blood-stained dress flowed around her as she followed it, watching in awe as it soared about. She giggled, plopping down on the grass in the middle of a circle of her victim’s pale, lifeless bodies, all of them with ironically morbid butterflies resting upon the frail skin of the corpses.

“Aren’t they, agents?”

She slanted her green eyes, gripping the grass a little harder. I flicked my tongue over my lips nervously, looking over to the lanky man on my left. He simply shrugged, just about as sure of how to handle the situation just as much as I was.

“If I knew you all were coming, I would have cleaned up, I really would have, I promise.”

We slowly walked towards her, twigs and leaves crunching under our feet. It could have been comparable to a hunter stalking its prey, but it unfortunately was quite the opposite.

6 days earlier, Quantico, Virginia

“3 bodies, all found within the last 48 hours in rural New York. So far, the first body has revealed that although it was dumped upstate, the victim was murdered in the city, and the same most likely goes for the other bodies as well. Nails well manicured, no drugs in the system. They aren't junkies, we’re dealing with upper class citizens.”

My face contorted as I took the photos from Reid’s hands, his large and tanned one surprising me by how soft it felt as it accidentally brushed against mine. I blushed like a madman, looking to see him doing the same thing. I cleared my throat getting Rossi’s attention.

“Why are we only now hearing of this?” I questioned, flipping through the images as I did so, my confusion only growing. I didn’t recieve an answer, leaving my curiosity to bloom.

“Wait, how did you say they were killed again?”

Morgan looked up, taking the photos from me. “He didn’t.”

I sighed, pushing my glasses up on my nose.

“Is there at least any correlation between the bodies and the butterflies?”

Our attention was shifted to JJ, the resident expert on the insects.

“Actually, the ones being found with the bodies are from the Amarynthis family, all native to Latin America. They weren’t there by accident so yes, they’re somehow related.”

Rossi stood up, grabbing his coat.

“Well, none of this is nearly enough for a profile, so pack your bags and tell the others, wheels up in an hour. We’re headed to New York.”

4 days earlier, F.B.I. Field Office, New York, New York

“The final report from the latest victim is in, all the autopsies are clean. They show no signs of struggles, no marks, no blood, no anything. The eyes weren’t bloodshot, so suffocation is ruled out, and that was our best bet.”

I sighed, sliding the case file across the glass table to Spence as I took my seat, sinking into it and allowing myself to be consumed by its warmth.

“So what your saying is that we’re back at square one.”

I looked up at Hotch from where I sat, running my hand through my ponytail.

“Yeah. That’s what I’m saying.”

Just then, the young Doctor spoke up as he flipped through the pages.

“The eyes weren’t just not bloodshot, there was barely any blood left in any of the victims bodies, only about 3% of the volume left. The killer drained them.”

Morgan gave me a shocked expression, silently asking for an explanation.

“Which you failed to mention, Y/n.” Aaron spoke, agitation once again present in his voice.

I looked at the ceiling, crossing my arms in front of me before turning to face Hotch once more.

“Yeah, well, I thought it was obvious when I said no blood.” I stuttered out cautiously.

“On the bodies! Not in the bodies!” Morgan exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in what was in my opinion, very childish. Everyone else in the room aside from Spencer was either shaking their heads or pinching the bridge of their noses, and reasonably so.

“Look, I’m sorry I just didn’t see it in the report, plus, In the scheme of things, it just doesn’t seem to matter.”

I soon regretted my words, realizing how ill-fit they were for the current conversation I was having. Spencer looked up, tilting his head.

“Doesn’t seem to matter? How? There’s an endless amount of possibilities now that we know this. If we had known it sooner we probably could have figured out the pattern and caught the one doing this!” He harshly spewed, his voice acting like a crescendo of sorts, quiet and calm and moving towards a loud and violent tone. Tears began to prick at the corners of my eyes and I was starting to feel guilty, not to mention absolutely stupid as could be.

“I’m- I really am sorry guys, truly.”

Hotch locked eyes with me, taking a stern tone that one would usually take with a disobedient child, perhaps even Jack.

“I hope that’s a comfort to you when another body shows up. That’s their blood on your hands.”

I was frozen, the gravity of the situation taking its toll.

In the background I heard him say something to Morgan about a new profile having to be made as there were many new things to be known from this revelation. But it all went in one ear and out the other, just unpleasant white noise.

As I clumsily stumbled out of the room, I felt Reid’s eyes burning holes into the back of my brain. I was quick to turn my head to meet his glance, causing him to look down. I felt bad, the weight on my chest growing heavier from the interaction.

I sat down at my desk, turning on my computer and immediately going to google. I typed in “hypnosis” and let the info trickle in.

About 30 minutes later, I still felt absolutely horrible, but I had also put together a valuable profile in the time that had passed. I shut the newly finished file, blowing an abandoned strand of hair out from my eyes. I had to do a double take when I saw Spencer staring once more, his deep hazel eyes meeting my own. I gave him a small smile before standing up and walking to Hotch’s makeshift New York office. I pushed open the heavy door, placing the folder on his too-clean desk.

“What’s this?” He asked, taking it in his hands.

“My theory about the unsub. I think I know what she’s been doing. You can tell the team if you want, I’m not sure if they would wanna hear it from me. ”

He gave a small smile, pushing the file back over to me.

“You get the team together and I’ll get the local PD caught up. You tell them yourself.”

A few minutes later, everyone except for Reid had gathered in the meeting room. I peeked through the half closed blinds that allowed a line of vision to his desk in an attempt to locate him. He was positioned there, staring blankly at his laptop that appeared to have nothing on the screen. I knocked on the window lightly to catch his attention, his glazed over eyes looking in my direction. I tilted my head at him, silently beckoning him to join me. He only shook his in response, shaggy brown locks swaying back and forth. I sighed, frowning at his action. I turned to the group, clasping my hands in front of me.

“Everyone, this will just be a second if you’ll excuse me.”

With a raised eyebrow from Hotchner and a jab in the direction of Spencer’s workspace, I swiftly walked out of the crowded room.

“Spence, care to join us?” I asked, resting one of my hands against my hip, the other on his orderly desk.

“No, I don’t think I will. I need to try to figure this out before she finds her next victim.”

“What makes you think the unsub is a she?” I searched his eyes that had seemingly become brighter at my piqued interest in his hypothesis.

“Well, the unsub seems to be obsessed with symmetry, all the bodies being found in obscure yet symmetrical positions. This could suggest she had some sort of deep rooted insecurity, possibly from some sort of bullying from growing up in a small town where she was looked at as a superior for subpar looks. She moved to the big city, expecting a big break. Instead she was shunned for being less than average. She grew frustrated and as a result, she began her killing spree. The stresser could have been one too many insults that made her snap. Plus, that would account for the butterflies left on the scenes that are used in modern examples of both femininity and symmetry.”

I smiled widely at his words.

“What- why are you smiling, what are you smiling at?”

I tapped his desk, rolling my bottom lip between my teeth. I headed back towards the conference room, looking over my shoulder.

“Because, I’m glad we’re on the same page, Dr.”

——————

“So, our girl, as Dr. Reid has explained to us, is obsessed with her appearance. She’s an organized killer, no mistakes and no signs of blood or anything of the sort on scene. She has practice, she does this sort of thing every day. She is most likely in the age group of 23-30, and has a job in the cosmetic industry, our guess is in plastic surgery. She probably volunteers weekends at local butterfly sanctuaries or zoos, finding comfort in their perfection that those in her life, or formerly in her life, cannot and could not provide.”

“Which would explain to her easy access to non-native species of the insects. She has an absolute infatuation with symmetry, which yet again, links the butterflies on the crime scene to her MO.”

Spencer and I were vividly explaining our shared theory to the team, as well as local law enforcement. He was excited by his discovery and the lead on the killer, and his energy was contagious.

“She kills without remorse and out of jealousy, picking victims who all have one thing in common.”

Spence pointed to all of the images pasted on the board in the center of the room, all of them split in half and reflected, creating a perfect mirrored portrait.

“They all have perfectly symmetrical faces, as well as strong jawlines and high cheekbones. As most of these victims are models or those searching to start a modeling career, we believe she is luring them in with a photographer trope, promising to make their dreams come true.”

I nodded, taking a moment to study Reid’s own sharp yet somehow soft features. I allowed my eyes to wander over his sunken in, kind, and curious eyes; his pillowy pink lips that are in dire need of some chapstick.

“Agent?”

I turned my head, snapped back to reality by Rossi calling my name.

I gave a tight and quick smile, returning to the topic at hand and tactics to catch the unsub. But of course not before Emily gave me a crooked smile, resulting in me rolling my eyes.

“Physically, she’s nothing special, most likely a mundane appearance or one with quite obvious surgical changes. No in between. Check all of the plastic surgeon offices in the area for both employees who fit our description, as well as a patient who has gotten any serious facial mod operations. Do the same for any weekend volunteers at local zoos and animal sanctuaries, specifically working with any insects.”

It was an NYPD officer then that spoke up this time, raising her hand briefly.

“But, you still haven’t mentioned how she’s killing them?”

“Hypnosis.” Reid and I both spoke at the same time. He looked to his black Converse, sliding his hands into his pockets. I observed the room and all of the skeptical faces filling it.

“Even if it may sound far fetched, we saw no signs of anything that indicated a struggle or even any marks or wounds. This led us to believe that some form of hypnosis was used to allow her an easy kill. This means extra caution will have to be taken when actually handling the unsub. Even though we’re positive she’s using hypnosis, which method she is using to actually kill them after the fact is what we’re unsure of.”

I turned to Spencer, handing off the explanation to him.

“We think that because of her whole thing with symmetry, she wouldn’t want to disturb the natural state of the victims and their faces, even if she would do the same to her own.”

“Which means?” JJ asked, her blue eyes slanted and glossed lips left ajar.

“It means that the unsub wouldn’t want to leave any large marks like stab or gunshot wounds.” I nodded at Prentiss, who had made the assumption, confirming she was correct.

“With her presumed background in plastic surgery, we believe she was able to make small incisions that made no visible scars. We’re having the coroner look back over the bodies as we speak.”

“She drains the body’s blood 97% of the way before closing the holes up. What she does with the blood, we don’t know. Another Eddie Mays, perhaps.”

I looked over to Spencer, raising my brows at his comparison. He was quick to defend himself, shaking his hands left to right and mouthing “No” while simultaneously shaking his head the same way, something he seemed to be doing often as of late.

After we had finished consulting with any officers who had remaining questions, we branched off to conduct our own routine investigations. We found that the only thing they all had in common apart from the symmetrical faces, is that they all had visited the Central Park Zoo in the 24 hours before they were killed. We received a phone call from Garcia not long after we put together those pieces, being alerted that there was one girl who had, in her words, “Hit every mark there was to hit, sunshine.”

“Her name is Alessia Copelas, she works weekdays as a surgeon's assistant at Premier Cosmetic, and weekends at Central Park Zoo from 4-8 p.m.”

I smiled at the new info from the blonde bombshell known as Penelope, turning to Reid who was still looking at me quizzically.

“Alright, thanks babes, you’re the best.” I spoke into the phone, a comical “Mwah!” made from either side as we hung up.

He shook his head, keeping the odd look on his face.

“I swear, you guys have a weirder relationship than her and Morgan.”

I laughed, sliding my phone into my back pocket.

“Oh, please, Spence.” I gingerly placed a hand on his cheek, patting it twice.

“You’re just jealous.” I made a pouty face, letting my hand linger before walking off. “Come on, we’re going on a field trip.”

“Where to?” He asked, gripping the door frame, using it as leverage to swing himself closer to me. He took long and quick strides, catching up to me in no time.

“You like animals, right?”

———————

4 Days Earlier, Central Park Zoo, New York

As soon as we entered the zoo, our ears were filled with the sounds of the loud screeches of birds and monkeys alike. Reid covered his ears, cringing and making his displeasure known with an “Ahh!”

I smiled at his geeky behavior, admiring the animals in the enclosures. I paid special attention to a particularly impressive species of tarantula, leaning down to admire them. A few moments later I looked to my left and saw Spencer doing the same thing.

“Did you know that arachnids have asthma which is why they don’t run for extended periods of time, similarly to cheetahs?”

“Yes I did.”

His face scrunched up in an adorable manner, causing an involuntary giggle to fall past my lips.

“Well did you know that-“

“Ma’am?”

I turned to see a young woman with flaming red hair and a freckled face smiling at me, her green collared uniform top complimenting her eyes of a different shade wonderfully.

“Oh, hi, I’m Agent Y/l/n and this is Dr. Reid, we’re with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.”

Her expression shifted to a more confused one, her smile not leaving her face.

“What can I do for you two?”

“Is there an Alessia Copelas that works here, maybe volunteers on the weekends?” Spencer asked, his puppy dog eyes immediately warranting a response.

“Yeah, she volunteers here, she seems nice. Is she helping with an investigation?”

“Well we think that she may have some part in a series of murders.”

Her smile disappeared this time, turning into a cement frown as panic flooded her body.

“Oh God, was she- Is she a killer? Have I been working with a killer for all this time? I mean, I never had any shifts with her but from what I heard I thought she was so sweet-“

“Look,”

Reid glanced down to her name tag that read “Lillian” before meeting her eyes. His tongue darted out, licking his lips, a nervous habit of his I’d picked up on.

“Lillian, we aren’t sure if she’s the killer we just needed to get a feel on her and get some information regarding her personal life.”

She started frantically nodding her head, more trying to convince herself she was okay rather than ourselves. I looked over her shoulder at some exhibits, thinking to myself how this would end up being a waste of our time if this poor girl couldn’t get a grip on herself.

I was soon proven wrong when I looked over to see a young girl wearing an identical uniform to Lillian, probably somewhere between 23 and 24. She had untamed chocolate locks with bangs that stopped just above the shoulder, blemishes covering her T-Zone, and a rounded face to go with it.

The cherry on top? Under her arm she carried a small enclosure with what appeared to be amarynthis meneria, the same butterflies found on the victims.

I tapped Reid on the shoulder once as discreetly as possible, catching his attention. I heard him mutter a small “Oh God” before he told Lillian to walk away calmly and quickly. She ignored his request, turning to look at Alessia, letting out a blood curdling scream and sprinting the other direction.

“Shit.” I cursed, beginning to walk towards Alessia, Spencer by my side. I smiled at her, trying to appear friendly. Reid spoke up as we got closer.

“Hello, do you by any chance-“

wham!

“Spence!” I exclaimed, reaching down to help him up from where he had fallen from being whacked by the 4’2 pyscho that was Alessia Copelas.

“Did she get away?”

I turned to see her gone, the only sign she was even here being the forming bruise on the Dr’s face.

“Yeah. She did. I’m sorry, Reid, that was really stupid of me.” He shook his head, running his own hand over the raw skin.

“It’s fine, I would have done the same for you.” He looked up, and I wasn’t sure if it was my school-girl esque crush on him or the fact I just had another experience with a serial killer, but my heart was racing nonetheless.

————————

F.B.I. Field Office, New York, New York, 1 Day Earlier

The stress levels in the room were high.

Despite our best efforts, several more bodies had been found, New York’s narcissists were in a state of panic, and the spirits of the BAU were down to say the least.

“What? Are you kidding me?” I exclaimed, looking at Hotch in disbelief.

He rolled his chocolate eyes, fanning the folder containing the new information we had gathered on Alessia.

“I wish I was, Y/n. She’s off the grid completely, her apartment is empty, phone and credit cards have been deactivated, and the surgeon’s office hasn’t heard from her for 5 days. And the media has decided to give her the name ‘Butterfly Baron’, so she’s probably been fueled even further. We need a new lead before she strikes again.”

I scoffed, standing up and pushing my chair away.

“This is unbelievable. How many times do we have to reinforce the idea to local PD! Especially when the unsub is a self absorbed psycho, do not give them a name! God, I really cannot fathom this.”

I reached up, letting my hair down from where I had messily thrown it up upon my arrival to work that morning.

I stormed out of the room, my heels clicking behind me. I ignored Hotch’s calling of my name, making my way to the closest restroom.

I went in, locking the door behind him. I ran my hands through my roots, tugging just enough to where it hurt.

Turning the water to the left all the way, I splashed it from the stream leaving the faucet on to my face. I scratched my fingernails against the skin, wiping away the tears that had escaped.

“This is all your fault, y/n.” I whispered at myself in the mirror, doing my absolute best to engrain the message in my brain. I had my head hung in shame when a knock rang out.

“Y/n?”

It was Spencer. My mind started going a million miles a minute, thinking about why he could be there. With my voice raised a few octaves, I tried to scrape up a response.

“I’ll be out in a few, Spence.”

It was quiet for a split second, leaving me to foolishly dance around the idea that he had left me to wallow in my sorrowful thoughts.

“Y/n, Hotch wanted me to check on you. Are you ok?”

My heart slightly sank at the idea that he might’ve just come to check on me because he himself was worried. I discarded the thought, bringing myself back.

“Y/n can you please answer me? If you don’t open the door I’m gonna send in JJ or Emily.”

I sighed, wiping under my eyes where my mascara had smudged, begrudgingly walking over to the door. Just as my hand landed on the silver handle, his voice that was constantly playing in my head echoed out once more.

“Y/n, please? I need to know you’re okay. I’ll come in there myself.”

A soft smirk graced my face as I turned the handle to reveal a worried looking Spencer.

“Y/n, oh God, you had me worried.”

He was quiet when he spoke and his hair looked messy, like he had been running his slender fingers through it in a stress filled state.

I sniffled, attempting to still keep back tears that were still threatening to spill.

“I’m alright, Spencer. Really, I’m fine.”

He gave me a small smile, his eyes meeting my own.

“I know, it’s just that when I had my Diludad problem,” he hesitated.

“I would lock myself in bathrooms to shoot up, and I know you aren’t having a problem like that but I just was worried about you- what are you doing?”

I cut off his rambling by throwing my arms around his middle. He tensed, but quickly melted. He wrapped his strong arms around my shoulders and my waist, laying his head on mine.

“Y/n, I promise you, you’re doing your absolute best to stop Alessia. We wouldn’t even be where we are right now if you hadn’t made the connections. Those deaths are not your fault.”

My tears finally began to cascade like a waterfall, staining his shirt.

“I know, but it’s just like it is all my fault! I could have paid closer attention, or-or, I could have went after her at the zoo, it’s all my fucking fault, Reid.”

I sobbed into his shirt, my hand gripping his shirt like my life depended on it. Like if I let go I would fall into a deep, deep, endless hole.

His hand on my waist moved up to cradle my head.

“It’s not, I promise you-“

He was cut off mid sentence by the ringing of his phone.

“I am so, so sorry-”

I pulled away, breifly touching under my nose with my wrist, then moving a hair behind my ear.

“Nope, it’s fine, don’t worry.” Our words almost had overlapped each other as we clambered to fight the tension that had risen. I closed my eyes, tilting my head up, thinking about how unprofessional yet intimate our previous position had been. How wrong, yet how right it felt.

I kept running the moment through my head, the feeling of his warm figure encasing mine on replay.

His phone call played as background noise to the film playing in my brain, his voice calming me to an extent.

“Yeah, we’re on our way. Thanks, Morgan.”

He closed the phone with a snap, also snapping me out of my trance, putting the movie on pause.

“They’ve got a hit. Copelas was seen dropping by her old apartment.”

And for the first time since that Goddamn case had started, I smiled genuinely.

“Let’s go get her.”

————————

15 Minutes Prior, Central Park, New York

“Hotch?”

“Yes?” He looked back from where he was driving, following our lead in a rushed manner.

“What will we do if she...” I trailed off.

“Hypnotizes one of us?” He finished for me. I nodded solemnly.

The look on his face was conflicted and it took him a moment to come up with a response.

“We kill her before we have to kill one of our team members.”

He saw a look of uncertainty on my face and spoke up once more.

“And that’s an order.”

I nodded again, making eye contact with him through the rear view mirror. I fell back into my seat, closing my eyes briefly.

After a few more minutes on the road, we had arrived.

The doors all slammed to the SUVs, one after the other as we stepped out.

“The letter said that she would be here, somewhere here.”

The voice of Morgan was channeling through my earpiece, referring to the letter found at her apartment that she had left just for us.

“We ordered evac on citizens, correct?”

The unsure voice of JJ was also heard through the earpiece, her uncertainty quite unusual to hear.

“Yes, it was the first thing we did, Jayj.”

I whispered, a sly smirk from Spencer forming at my behavior.

“Oh shut up.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

snap!

Our senses adapted, becoming dialed to 11 at the sound of a twig snapping under someone's feet.

“Was that you?” I mouthed to Spencer. He shook his head no and I silently cursed to whatever force was listening.

I nodded, which he then reciprocated, the pair of us slowly walking towards the source of the sound after he did.

“They’re going to remember me, I’ll go down in history.”

The voice was sing-songy and quiet, floating through the air. I took a shaky breath, continuing my steady pace.

My breathing momentarily halted soon after.

Different variations of “Oh my God”s, and loud gasps from almost everyone on the team flooded my ear canal at the horrifying sight in front of us.

Red. So much of it.

“Guys, I think we know what she’s been doing with the bodies’ blood.”

“No shit.” I muttered under my breath.

She was bathed in the blood, it looked like something straight out of a horror movie.

“Alright everyone, I want you to approach her as quietly as possible, Morgan, if you get the chance, corner her.”

Hotch’s voice was a stark contrast to her own, Derek’s response all the same.

—————————

Present Day, Central Park, New York

“But Agents, you still haven’t answered my question. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Alessia Copeleas, FBI, come on, get up, lets go.”

Derek’s voice was stern, not asking, but demanding that Alessia come with us.

“I’m afraid I just can’t do that, Agents.”

She stood up abruptly, causing all of our weapons to rise. The sun reflected off of the silver metal of Reid’s gun, sparkling in a stunning way that caught me off guard.

We all were trying to act as if we were in total control of the situation, but we could tell that us nor Copelas really believed that. Her words were her weapon, and this was the one time where words could hurt, but sticks and stones had virtually no power.

“Take another step and we will have no hesitation to fire.”

She smirked, rolling her eyes.

“If you do, will I be famous you think? You think they’ll hear about me back home?”

Her curls softly blew in the wind, making her appear almost harmless, maybe even endearing, if it wasn’t for the hardening coat of human blood soaking her clothes and seeping from her skin.

“Is that what you want? The kids back home and everyone here to hear about you? You want ‘Butterfly Baron’ written on every billboard in Times Square, your picture painted in museums, films to be made in your honor?” Reid was the one who spoke up this time, his voice remaining strong. Her eyes shone with a sickening excitement at what he said.

“You want to be famous?”

She nodded vigorously.

“Too bad.”

My eyes widened, surprised at the detour the conversation had taken.

“What-what do you mean?”

“Please, the only thing people will hear about is a sad, boring little girl from a small town who killed to feel better about herself. They’ll forget about you in a week, who knows, maybe they’ll even grow an infatuation with your town, someone you went to school with may get as lucky as to catch their big break!” He laughed, while Alessia looked absolutely devastated.

“You? You’ll be a nobody.”

“That’s not true! I’ll go down in history, and they won’t! I’m the fucking butterfly baron for hells sake! All these people?” She gestured towards her field of bodies.

“You won’t remember their names, maybe not even their pretty faces, but me? I’ll live forever.”

Her nostrils flared and she strode over to Reid with purpose. The safety on my glock clicked off, but Spencer motioned for me to wait. So I did.

“You know, Agent-“

“It’s Doctor.”

This visibly agitated her even more as she started her sentence over again.

“Doctor, you have a beautiful bone structure. Absolutely perfect. Symmetrical, not to mention just flat out stunning.”

A glaze formed over Spencer’s honey eyes at her words. He lowered his gun momentarily before turning towards me, Copelas doing the same.

“And you, Agent. Wow. I feel like I’m in an art exhibit, you’re gorgeous. I think the Doctor man here would agree.”

As he lifted his revolver at me, the situation became all too real as I understood what was happening.

I either had to shoot the man that I was struggling to admit I was beginning to love, or died at the hands of the very same man.

Tears flooded my eyes, all safeties were turned down, and all guns were pointed at Reid.

“Spence, please.”

My voice was weak, something that seemed to bring Alessia lots of joy.

She laughed before talking again, commanding Spencer.

“Pathetic, really! Spence”, she mocked,“shoot her.”

“No!”

bang!

whack!

---------------------

Present Day, Somewhere In The Sky, The Jet

I opened my eyes from where I had been tackled to the ground by Hotch, surveying my surroundings to see Alessia laying on the grass, the source of her gunshot wound non-distinguishable from the previous blood on her body.

I looked to the right to see where Spencer had crumpled to, his frame bent in a discombobulated position.

“Spencer!” I cried out, crawling over to him like some sort of dog,

“What happened to him?”

“Y/n, he was going to shoot you-“

“I don’t care you should have let him!”

I cradled his head in my lap, allowing my pent up tears to fall.

“Y/n?”

My eyes snapped open for real this time, my mind calmed at the sight of Spencer sitting next to me on the couch, gently shaking my shoulder in an attempt to wake me from my nightmare.

“Spencer! Sorry, was I too loud?”

He chuckled, gesturing to the rest of the sleeping plane around us.

“You’re fine, I wasn’t sleeping, I decided to reread ‘Fahrenheit 451’ for nostalgia purposes. And you weren’t that loud, you just looked like you were having a bad dream.”

I chuckled at the not-so outlandish idea in an attempt to diminish it from his mind and move on.

“I’m fine. But fun fact, I did have nightmares after reading ‘The Veldt’. Seriously, I don’t get how you can just reread Bradbury’s stuff all the time.”

The genius scoffed, starting a rant on how Ray Bradbury’s storytelling was just classic literature and deserved to be reread, thus successfully changing the topic as I hoped my statement would. Although soon after, he caught on much quicker than I would have liked him to.

“And not to mention, The Veldt alone could be seen as a forewarning to the 21st century and beyond, even Bradbury himself supported that interpretation-‘

I gave him a tired smile, enjoying his rambling like I always did.

“-and you totally just got me to change the subject.”

“I was wondering when you were gonna catch up.”

“Hey!”

He laughed as I rested my head on my hand, trying to fall back asleep.

“Really, I can tell those nightmares are bad. What’s going on?” He questioned, his tone empathetic and compassionate.

“It’s nothing, Reid. I just keep seeing in the park, when Alessia got shot and you-you got hurt but instead of getting up like you did in real life, you just…”

I trailed off, not wanting to relive the negative dream any longer for fear of the tears that were pricking my eyes escaping.

“It’s okay, that didn’t happen, I’m right here.”

He pulled me into a hug, allowing me to bury my head in the crook of his neck, his warmth consuming me once more, a sequel to the film from earlier.

“I know, but what if it hadn’t?” I asked as I pulled away.

He shook his head, reaching for his wallet.

“In this job, this course of work, we can’t focus on ‘what if’s’. In this job, we also get nightmares, all of us. It happens.”

He slid a picture over to me, it was of a happy family. The edges were worn from years of being carried, but the picture seemed loved.

“Gideon gave me that when my nightmares started. He told me about how those families we save everyday, and how that’s what makes what we do worth it. And I know you didn’t know Gideon personally, or the work on the specific case with that family, but I want you to have it anyway-“

I cut him off by throwing my arms around his neck, attempting to speak despite being muffled by his fluffy sweater.

“Thank you, Spence. Truly.”

I smiled, and I imagined he was doing the same.

“No problem y/n. Anytime.”

I moved my legs over to be tucked underneath my arms, leaning into Reid. He wrapped his arm around me, also leaning in. We both managed to fall asleep for the remainder of the ride in our state of content, but not before he managed to sleepily call out my name.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“When we land do you wanna go on a date or somethin’?”

I smiled at him, separating from his form just long enough to see that beautiful face of his.

“Without a doubt.”

🂦∙🂦∙🂦

AHAHAHHAHAHAHA I’M WAY TOO HAPPY WITH THAT LMAOOO but anyway chile-

i don’t have some long ass paragraph to write this time omg wig, i’m just proud asf of my work for once (except for the zoo part ngl kinda didn’t like it😳)

😛✨vibes✨ love u, xx hj

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rwhague · 4 years ago

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An Overview of Major Depressive Disorder for Writers

Society as a whole is getting better at understanding mental disorders and sympathizing with those who experience them. I believe that much of this advancement is due to the arts and the fictional portrayal of characters who live these experiences. Fiction is a mirror on society. As we tell our stories, our readers see themselves and those around them reflected back. Which is why I believe having our information about mental illnesses correct when trying to create characters is so important. That is why I have focused so heavily on what mental illnesses really look like in my blog. Today, I’m going to share you a gross overview of clinical depression and what it looks like in a person.

Feeling depressed is something everyone experiences on occasion whether that be through prolonged stress or just having a bad day. It’s not unusual to have a day when you simply don’t want to get out of bed. Generally, pressures of society keep us going and we force ourselves forward to meet our obligations. Often, those around us know we’re having a bad day because we are irritable and just generally unpleasant to be around. This, however, is not clinical depression. Clinical depression is characterized by at least 2 weeks of continuous depressed mood or loss of pleasure in nearly all activities as well as four of the following symptoms: “changes in appetite or weight, sleep; decreased energy; feelings of worthlessness or guilt; difficulty thinking, concentrating, or making decision; or recurrent thoughts of death or suicidal ideation, plans, or attempts” (Videbeck p. 281). These symptoms also impact social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning.

This last part is key, because it separates being sad and having a mental disorder. We all have periods of sadness whether it be from the loss of a loved one, a loss of a job, or broken heart, but depression impacts day-to-day living with a significant impact on the person’s life.

There are many causes of depression: chemical, hormonal, genetic, or depression can come from an extended period of grief. Short term depression if left untreated can lead to chronic depression.

Depression can occur in tandem with anxiety which I’ve written about extensively. Basically, the body has used up all its reserves for the anxiety, so it crashes. It is rare to see chronic anxiety without some form of depression.

Depression does not always look like one would think. It’s not just someone who sits around crying all the time feeling bad for themselves. I’ll paint a quick picture for you:

Anna lays facing the wall, staring at nothing as she has done for the past twelve hours. Outside her door, she hears her youngest squeal with laughter and the thud of footsteps chasing after her. Anna cringes as she draws the covers in closer. Why doesn’t the sound of my own child’s laugh make my smile? I’m a horrible person.

“Mama, would you like some dinner?”?” Joel, her oldest cracks open the bedroom door, but Anna continues to lie on her side in the dark away from the door. She shakes her head, and the door closes back.

Joel shouldn’t have to make his own dinner. I should have made it for him. I just—I feel so tired. Why do I feel so tired? And why can’t I sleep? I’m a worthless burden on my family. I should just end it all so they don’t have to put up with me.

And that is often the case with depression. It’s a lack of motivation, a lack of energy, of joy. It’s not that the person experiencing it is particularly lazy. They literally do not have any energy. This inability to function takes a toll on the person’s self-esteem and the depression feeds into itself making it worse and worse.

There are some treatment options for depression. Unfortunately, these do require some energy expenditure, and there is no guaranteed cure, just management. Sunlight, healthy foods, and better sleep patterns are some of the treatments, but consider a person like Anna who doesn’t want to eat. She lies in bed most of the day, but has trouble sleeping. In order to get sunlight, she has to have the energy to get out of bed. As you can see, the spiral of depression can swallow a person whole.

This does not mean a person should stay in the spiral. Yes, it’s hard living day to day without a functioning incentive-reward center in the brain, but if you don’t get out of the spiral, it will consume you. It will take a bit of faith to get up day after day, sometimes for a very long time without results. But those suffering from depression are not alone. Others have gone before them and succeeded.

Exercising, removing junk food from your life, treating the underlining conditions such as anxiety, and receiving therapeutic help are key to getting out of depression. But you are worth it. Your life is worth it. Get help. Surround yourself with people who will hold you accountable—not by belittling you or abusing you, but by supporting you and your efforts to get better.

I write this last bit to the writer themselves because I have seen many writers speak about their depression and their battles with mental health. Writing is not just for the entertainment of the masses. It can also be a pathway to healing for the writer themselves. As you create these characters living their struggles, reflect on your own life as well. How will Anna get out of the depression cycle? How will you?

Disclaimer: This is a writing blog and not intended to be used as a tool for diagnosing or treating anyone with mental illness.

Psychiatric-Mental Health Nursing, by Sheila L. Videbeck, fifth ed., Wolters Kluwer/Lippincott Williams & Wilkins, 2011.

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rigmarolling · 5 years ago

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Top 5 Things That Will Kill You In the Victorian Era

If you’ve ever spent more than two seconds with me, you know that I live and breathe the fog-choked air of Victorian London. All day. Every day of my life.

See, in many ways, the Victorians were the first version of us--overwhelmed by rapidly-changing technology (and its awful effect on the climate); dealing with incredible wealth gaps; grappling with rising crime and faster travel and out-of-control media and the whole, “God is dead, oh no” thing.

Also, everything was trying to kill you.

Like, literally almost everything.

From your clothes to your doctor to your canned food, here are the top five things that will kill you in the Victorian era.

5. Other Victorians

If the rise of penny dreadfuls (cheap magazines stuffed with horror stories for us morbidly-inclined goth types) was any indication, Victorians loved them some true crime.

And there was no shortage of subject matter to choose from: depending on where you ventured in London, at least, you could be subject to anything from pickpocketing to mugging to violent assault and, of course, murder.

There were a few reasons for this:

For one thing, the population in London alone increased by millions in the 19th century, and approximately no one was prepared for that. So, to accommodate the rapidly-booming population, the wealthy folks in charge reached out and lovingly ensured the masses of the disenfranchised poor were taken care of by redistributing resources and education and access to opportunities that improved lives on a both a personal and social level.

Lol, no, I’m totally kidding; they shoved them into slums and tenement buildings and pretended they didn’t exist.

So of course, there was a rise in crime, because if you have five kids and you can’t find gainful employment and your family will starve if you don’t steal that basket of food over there, or that purse that lady left sitting over THERE, what are you going to do? You’re going to steal the food and the purse to survive, Jean Valjean, I understand, I do.

Except the powers that be did NOT understand, and instead routinely espoused the idea that if people were poor, it was because they were morally bankrupt, or inherently bad, somehow, and the “criminal classes,” as they came to be known by the growing Victorian middle and upper-middle classes, were simply considered genetically bad to the bone and therefore undeserving of assistance.

Basically:

So ANYWAY.

Crime was on the rise and there were multiple efforts to stop it with varying degrees of success, but big city usually = big crime, especially when there’s a massive gap between the one percent-ers and THE REST OF US, WASHINGTON.

Ahem.

All that crime? The booming news industry loved it. The press ate it up and then spit it back out in salacious headlines that never even bothered with journalistic objectivity, like this gem:

I mean. Full disclosure: I, too, agree that cutting off a woman’s head, arms, and legs and then burning them is “awful, inhuman, & barbarous” but just...maybe...maybe tone it down? Just a bit?

No? Okay.

See, here’s the thing: crime sells. It always has. And papers went nuts with full illustrated spreads about the latest brutal murders so you could sit in your parlor and get anxiety poops thinking about how the butcher down the street looked at you funny the other day and oh, God, you’re probably next, oh God.

The most famous murderer of the era, was, of course, Jack the Ripper, which was just the orchestral climax of a hideously corrupted society that had bubbled into naught but a festering carbuncle, an ulcer upon the very soul of man, trussed up as a city of industry, but which is merely Salome, dancing with the Lamb’s head upon a platter and sending us all tumbling into a fiery pit.

....Ahem, again.

Some popular ways your fellow Victorians could kill you included: dueling (with swords but usually with revolvers), stabbing, garroting, and, probably the most popular method of the era, poisoning.

Speaking of which...

4. Anything dyed that hip shade of green

In 1775, a guy named Carl Wilhelm Scheele invented a new shade of green, cleverly called Scheele’s green, and it instantly became a hit. Pretty soon, manufacturers and tailors were dyeing everything this color.

Look at it. Bright, airy. Calls to mind a fresh, spring meadow. (What’s that, you ask? Well, before the Industrial Revolution belched out black smoke onto absolutely everything, there were these things called plants and grass and they were all over the place and you could frolic through them and it was very nice for your serotonin levels.)

I mean, listen, this isn’t really my color because anything vaguely yellow-ish makes my already yellow-ish skin look especially jaundiced, but it’s a lovely shade:

Besides using it to create beautiful dresses and tasteful waistcoats, they used it inside book covers:

And it was a super popular wallpaper color:

They had green candles and green cups and green kitchenwares and green paint.

But while Carl Wilhelm Scheele didn’t exactly murder anyone (even though he has three names like every serial killer ever), he sort of, accidentally, indirectly, kinda...did.

Because that springy dye contained every Victorian black widow’s favorite method to dispose of a troublesome husband: arsenic.

Scheele, of course, had no idea--no one did--so I’m fully exonerating him here, but the poison nonetheless started to take its toll.

Reports began to surface of kids getting sicker and sicker and then dying in their green wallpapered rooms; of fashionable ladies rocking those green dresses at balls and then ALSO getting sicker and sicker and breaking out in horrible sores before dying.

They even used this stuff to dye food green, so of course, anybody who tucked into Victorian green eggs and ham also, you know. Died.

And if they DIDN’T die, they got cancer, because if arsenic doesn’t kill you, it will give you cancer. And then kill you.

Eventually, as science advanced and went, “HEYO, there’s literal poison in this stuff,” consumers were like, “Well, shoot, this summer’s hottest beach shade just killed an entire boarding school,” and Scheele’s green finally fell out of favor.

It was, however, used as a pesticide up through the 1930s, so...way to use the...leftovers? I guess?

3. Your canned food

Hey, now that we’re on the topic of deadly chemicals being where they absolutely should not be, let’s talk about canned food.

In the Victorian era, it was the new Hot Thing (next to arsenic green). You mean I can can my food now? Like? Forever? Oh, only for a few months. Okay, cool. Still cool.

Above: Road trip snax.

Food preservation methods had existed long before canned meats and veggies and soups, but canned everything really started to gain traction around the middle of the 19th century, and people were stoked. Remember, the population exploded; people needed new methods of obtaining cheap food that didn’t spoil immediately. So: cans to the rescue!

Recycling hadn’t really been invented, though, so today, archaeologists constantly find giant Victorian trash pits filled with empty cans.

You know what also hadn’t been invented? Consumer health and safety boards.

So guess what was in the tin cans themselves?

No, no, don’t worry, it wasn’t arsenic.

It was lead.

Which, in case you weren’t aware, is also very, very bad for you.

So bad, in fact, that today, scientists are pretty sure lead-lined tins of canned food were partially responsible for the deaths on the disastrous Franklin Expedition, an ultimately futile trip to discover the Northwest Passage lead by Sir John Franklin in 1845. Every single man on board the two ships stranded in the Arctic died, and in the 1980s, when scientists discovered perfectly mummified bodies (GRAPHIC, if you don’t like that sort of thing, but awesome if you do) of some of the sailors, one of the mummies contained insane amounts of lead. They later tested the cans found scattered across the wreck site and whoops, they also contained insane amounts of lead.

Above: Some of the tin cans from the Franklin Expedition, which contained items like salted beef, vegetables, tea, lethal amounts of lead, and Chicken of the Sea.

Granted, other factors contributed to the Franklin deaths, like, you know, being stranded in the Arctic and starving to death, and also tuberculosis, but lead-lined canned food certainly didn’t help things along.

2. Your doctor

Here’s my advice if you’re in the Victorian era and you’re starting to feel sick: do not get sick. Just don’t. Because then that means you’ll have to go to the doctor. Which probably means you will die.

Hospitals in the 19th century were deadly. Often even more deadly than just staying at home, according to Dr. Lindsey Fitzharris, author of The Butchering Art. Nobody knew how to treat anything, really, because medical understanding of biology was in its infancy and antibiotics didn’t exist yet, so you were absolutely, definitely going to get some kind of infection the second you stepped foot in a Victorian hospital.

Above: The surgery, where nobody has any idea what they are doing, ever.

Doctors weren’t trying to kill you on purpose--they just didn’t know any better. And it super duper didn’t help that common treatments for everything from the common cold to tuberculosis included taking mercury (which kills you) and blood-letting, (which can also kill you) the tools for which are shown below:

Those might look like fun doodads for your astronomy class at Hogwarts, but they’re actually vials and a really, really sharp needle that pricks you until you bleed out a critically dangerous amount of blood into those vials.

The (ancient) school of thought behind blood-letting was that draining patients of “bad” blood would rebalance their “humours” and get rid of the icky thing that was making them sick. We might laugh at it now, but if you don’t know any better, logically, it makes sense.

Medically, oh my God, it’s the worst.

So if Doc didn’t bleed you to death, he might try surgery--done without anesthesia or antibiotics (until good old Dr. Lister came along--read The Butchering Art!), and then ship you and your amputated stump leg off to the hospital ward where, instead of healing, you’d get wheeled through hallways stained with every bodily fluid imaginable into rooms filled with people coughing up every bodily fluid imaginable, some of which would get into your leg stump, infect it, and then kill you dead.

“But what about medicine?” you ask. “Can’t I just take medicine?”

Sure! Just be aware that it definitely contains morphine and probably contains cocaine, or mercury, or arsenic, or sulfur, or pulverized bits of ancient Egyptian mummies (I am not kidding. True, the latter had started to fall out of favor in the 19th century, but, like. Stop).

Above: Hard drugs, but just for you.

You think I’m joking?

Above: PARTY TIME.

Sometimes, a doctor would just advise that you move to a “more temperate climate” like Rome or Spain if you were feeling chronically ill, which might help you get a tan and COULD help if you had sucky lungs, but eventually, you’d just die anyway, because what you really needed was a strong antibiotic or antiviral medication and the closest you were gonna get was Mrs. Hopplebopple’s Temperance Tonic, which was probably filled with ground up baby bones and just so much heroin.

And don’t even get me started on Victorian surgical tools:

Open wide.

1. Water

There are three rules in this life: don’t watch any Adam Sandler movies except for maybe Anger Management, don’t eat the yellow snow, and do not, ever, for any reason, ever drink water in Victorian England.

That’s because it was about as clean as a Victorian hospital.

Meaning it wasn’t. At all.

Victorian water--of the Thames variety--contained:

Cholera, one of the deadliest killers of the era and bad water’s favorite roommate.

Poop, human and otherwise, because a functioning sewer system? I don’t know her. (At least, not until the 1860s.)

Pee, human and otherwise, because nothing says, “Jolly Old England” like an open trench of piss rolling through the city.

Dead things, like animals, fish (which are animals, so why am I listing them as a separate thing?), and, occasionally, humans.

Chemicals, which spewed forth from the great factories in billowing, bubbling, belching rivers of sludge. (Ha! Omg, yes, I was an English major!)

The Thames was so filthy that Londoners called it “Monster Soup.”

Above: Same.

In 1855, scientist Michael Faraday (who was also kind of hot; tell me I’m wrong), wrote a letter to the Times about the disgusting state of the river:

"Near the bridges the feculence rolled up in clouds so dense that they were visible at the surface, even in water of this kind. ... The smell was very bad, and common to the whole of the water; it was the same as that which now comes up from the gully-holes in the streets; the whole river was for the time a real sewer."

Tl;dr: “It smelled like ass.”

In fact, it got so bad, so putrid, so horrifically clogged with every disgusting thing your mind and your butthole can possibly conjure up, that it lead to one of my favorite things to read about in the world: The Great Stink of 1858.

Yes, that’s the real name. I did not make that up. History is incredible.

Above: Summer vacation, 1858.

The summer of 1858 was miserably hot in London. And the Thames was miserably clogged with poop, and pee, and chemicals, and dead things, and, uh oh, cholera. During July and August that year, the smell wafting from the river was so offensive that Parliament was actually adjourned because everybody kept throwing up. Cholera devastated the city. The water was killing London.

Faced with either the prospect of living with a city-wide vomit-and-diarrhea smell for the rest of forever OR finally cleaning things up, the government actually did something right and chose the latter. They contracted civil engineer Joseph Bazalgette to overhaul the city’s sewer, to which Bazalgette, pinching his nose, responded, “FINALLY.”

Above: Joesph Bazalgette, savior of the London sewers and purveyor of a truly beautiful mustache.

Bazalgette proceeded to build the London sewer system still in use today. His efforts greatly reduced the number of cholera deaths, cleared the Thames of its Cronenberg-esque muck, and ensured that poop goes where it’s supposed to: way the hell out of HERE and way the hell under THERE.

Water sanitation still had a long way to go, though, which meant you either had to boil your water to kill the bacteria in it, or you could just drink alcohol instead, which was the safer option but which would also leave you very dehydrated and also, if imbibed excessively, would leave you very dead.

So really, you were doomed in some way no matter what you did, and if that isn’t the moral of the entire Victorian story, then I don’t know what is.

#victorian #listory

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angelicthor · 6 years ago

Text

the seventies

decades dance: part 3

pairing: steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes

summary: unrequited love was painful. To have to endure it from two people was something else. Loving two super soldiers that didn’t return your feelings was agony but what if they did? Events unfold when Tony plans to throw a party for every decade Bucky and Steve missed out on.

warnings/genre: +18 only, explicit smut, angst, fluff, idiots-to-lovers

masterlist | decades dance masterlist

After the last party things only went from bad to worse. You weren’t talking to Bucky or Steve and they apparently weren’t speaking to each other; not only that but the tension between you three was starting to seep out into the rest of the team. If Steve was in a room then one of the others would make sure that Bucky was nowhere in sight, keeping him distracted and away in whatever ways they could, or they would literally have to pry the two apart. In all honestly guilt ate away at you: even though you knew this was entirely their fault, it was exactly what you had wanted to avoid – the destruction of a friendship that defied decades.

Of course, this guilt wasn’t enough for you to just up and forgive Steve and Bucky; they had used you, lied to you, broke your heart again and again - that wasn’t something so easily forgiven. You spent most of your time avoiding the pair of them, refusing to even look in their direction, no amount of bugging from Nat or Wanda could get you to move on the issue – if Steve and Bucky were present, you simply weren’t. Honestly, you had considered leaving the Avengers, not knowing how you were going to keep up avoiding them but Nat and Wanda quickly talked you out of it; the Avengers were your family and you couldn’t just up and quit, you were needed and wanted here.

This went on for weeks with no signs of it getting better and it was starting to take its toll on everyone. All the time you all usually spent outside of avenging like watching films and eating together, simple yet crucial moments in the chaotic lives you lived, was now spent keeping everyone apart. You hadn’t been together as a unit in so long and it was starting to show, especially in training, you no longer worked together as one and that was the biggest mistake you ever made.

The mission was supposed to be easy - supposed to be.

It was a complete disaster from the touch down, none of you had trained together as a team in weeks and everyone was uncoordinated and unorganised. To only help matters more, you and Bucky were both stubbornly letting your anger interfere with the mission, not following Steve’s orders – even though he was still your Captain – and doing what you both thought was best instead. And that cost you. Big time.

Steve had ordered you, Bucky and Nat to exit the building via the roof but that meant working your way up the building after retrieving the stolen hard drive, when it was easier to just exit the way you came. Or so you thought; the way you had come in and been overridden with guards as you were inside and now the three of you had to face a shit-storm as you waited for back-up. Nat was muttering in Russian under her breath and you knew it was about yours and Bucky’s stupidity at ignoring Steve’s commands, you only prayed no one would get hurt because of your foolishness.

God wasn’t listening to your prayers this time. For every guard you managed to disarm, it seemed five more would join the fight and it was becoming exhausting. Steve and the others soon joined the fray and the fight continued, that was until an obnoxiously loud shot rang out, cutting through the noise of everything else until the only sound you could hear was the pounding of your heart, blood rushing through you.

The colour drained from your face as you watched Steve drop to his knees, arm clutching his waist as the red staining his uniform grew. Time seemed to slow and you couldn’t focus on anything around you; not the Hydra agents still attacking you, not the other Avengers finishing the job, not Bucky rushing to Steve’s side to haul him out of the fight and back to the Quinjet. Everything seemed to go numb as you realized what just happened. You, in a foolish act of spite, had disobeyed your Captains orders and completely jeopardized the mission and everyone’s lives. And now, Steve had a bullet embedded in his gut and the rest of the team were stuck cleaning up your mess. You had gone too far and you knew it.

The ride back to base was strained and silent, everyone keeping to themselves but all sharing the same thought – this rift between everyone had to be fixed. Bucky remained glued to Steve’s side as Bruce patched him up, reassuring Steve and everyone else that it wasn’t fatal and thanks to his advanced healing plus Dr.Cho’s nano-molecular technology, he’d be fixed in no time once we returned home.

The tension was suffocating and you sat away from everyone, wanting nothing more than solitude with your racing thoughts, you refused to meet anyone’s lingering gaze on you – especially those of Steve and Bucky – instead keeping your eyes downcast as shame filled your bones.

The moment the jet landed you shot from your seat, scurrying away from the others as fast as you could until you were in the safety of your room, locking the door before sinking to the ground as sobs racked your body. Hot tears streamed down your face as the events replayed on a loop in your head; the sound of the gun, the sight of Steve falling to his knees, the blood seeping through his uniform, coating his hand. All of this could have been avoided if you had just followed your orders, the thought that you were lucky it wasn’t any worse making you feel sick.

What if the bullet hit an organ? What if it had been far more serious? What if had been one of the others, they don’t have enhanced healing? Oh god, you could have gotten them killed.

The room spun as your guilt consumed you, choking on your tears as the thought of losing one of your friends – of losing Steve and Bucky – tormented you. You knew you had to fix this, the separation you, Steve, and Bucky had caused, before you cost someone their life. If you couldn’t get to a place where you could work together, you would have to leave, you couldn’t jeopardize the team like this anymore.

Steve was taken straight to med bay, Bucky escorting him the whole time, not once leaving him; the shame of nearly getting his best friend killed eating at him, after everything they’d been through it seemed so ridiculous to throw it away over something that could be fixed - he hoped.

Both of them realized their mistakes, knowing that they both fucked up with you and that taking it out on each other was the worst thing they could do – they should have been spending that time trying to fix their mistakes not blaming each other and making it worse for everyone, especially you.

Bucky and Steve spent the next few days of his recovery mending what they had broken between them; Steve reassuring Bucky that he was all right and that what happened was as equally his fault as it was Bucky’s. That took more convincing on Steve’s part, Bucky carried a lot of guilt. You watched from the side-lines as over the next few days Bucky and Steve’s friendship gradually repaired itself, you heart swelling as you saw them as they used to be. Before everything went so horribly wrong. Before you were involved.

You spent those days thoroughly perplexed by your emotions; as much as you were relieved that Steve had made a full recovery and that him and Bucky were once again friends, you were still incredibly pissed with them both for what they did. You knew you still loved them but you weren’t sure if you could forgive them for what they did. Even if you could, you knew you couldn’t date either of them – it would completely wreck their repaired relationship, you just had to make sure you ended everything on good enough terms to be able to work together again, without risking everyone’s lives whenever there was a mission. If not, then you were going to have to leave the avengers, family or not you couldn’t keep this up.

The weekend approached and Tony declared that the next party would take place on Saturday, you knew by his tone there was no room for discussion – you were going to attend. You could tell by the way everyone aimed their words at you, Steve, and Bucky that they were expecting you to resolve whatever was going on between the three of you that night. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for them; they’d been dealing with this for so long, had their lives risked unnecessarily, and they didn’t even know why. It was enough of a motivator for you to decide to swallow your pride and your nerves and finally talk to Bucky and Steve at the party.

Unlike the previous two parties, you got ready on your own with no help from either Wanda or Nat, leaving you to thoughts as you got ready. Something you weren’t too sure you were grateful for or not. You had no idea what you were going to say to Bucky and Steve and you tried you hardest to predict how it would go; anything to calm your pounding heart. You knew one thing for certain, you were going to get the truth out of them tonight, you refused to leave here without it.

With a new resolve, you finished adjusting your outfit: the bell-bottom pants clinging to your waist and thighs before flaring at your calves, the blouse you were wearing tied under your breasts exposing your midriff. Unlike the first party, there was no sense of excitement, only a feeling of dread filling your bones and weighing you down. Reminding yourself of your determination for the truth and to finally move on from this whole mess you found yourself in, you gave yourself one final once-over in the mirror before leaving your room with a sigh.

This was going to be fun.

The elevator ride down seemed to take forever and your fingers tapped incessantly on your thigh, the anxiety building within you needing some form of escape, you tried to go over in your head what you would say to them but everything just felt so wrong. The doors opened with a ding, revealing the party to you, and you abandoned any hopes of planning what you were going to say, how could you? You had no idea what they thought about this whole mess.

You could only hope and pray that you would know what to say when the time came, you wanted as little collateral damage as possible, now was not the time to mess up your words and inadvertently make things worse between the three of you.

Although there was music, chatter, and laughter filling the room, you could sense the underlying strain between the team. They all knew the significance of tonight; if things weren’t mended between the three of you it could mean the end of the Avengers as they knew it. It was as if you could feel the rest of the team holding their breath as you walked into the room and you quickly made a beeline for the bar, needing at least some liquid courage to be able to make it through the night.

As you waited for the bartender to fix your drink, your eyes quickly surveyed the room taking in the multitude of guests – most of whom you didn’t know, just people on a list Tony kept for parties – and their respective outfits; the flared trousers, the platform boots, and mini-skirts all recapturing the essence of 70’s fashion. The room seemed an explosion of colour, nothing exactly matching yet complementing everything else so well – Tony even had a few lava lamps stationed around the room whilst the walls were covered in blacklight posters casting psychedelic colours about the room. You had to hand it to the man, he didn’t do things by halves.

Your spine went rigid when your eyes locked on Steve and Bucky, both huddled in the corner of the room speaking with each other. Although there was no way you could hear what they were saying, the discussion appeared to be intense, if the fire blazing in Bucky’s eyes and the way Steve’s hands became animated were any indication. You drank in the sight of them, something you hadn’t let yourself indulge in for so long, allowing yourself to yield to your desire for them for just one minute.

The both embraced the decade perfectly; Steve was somehow looking better than fine whilst rocking double denim, his flared jeans perfectly matching his jacket whilst a bright shirt peeked out from underneath the material. Bucky, however, donned turquoise bellbottom trousers with a matching jacket, the floral decals that decorated it barely visible underneath the oversized collar of his paisley shirt; honestly, you were shocked by how well the style suited him, his long brown locks completing the look perfectly.

You straightened in your seat when you noticed them returning your unwavering gaze, both pairs of eyes locked on you causing you to duck your head as heat spread across your flushed cheeks, turning quickly back towards the bar and gulping down the drink in front of you for courage.

It’s now or never.

Taking a deep breath, you tried in vain to steady yourself before you made your way over to them both. Every step you took towards them seemed to be weighed down with lead, your mind screaming at you to turn around before it was too late but you knew what you needed to do, regardless of the sinking feeling in your stomach that seemed to grow the closer you got to the super soldiers.

Upon seeing you approach, Bucky sent a sharp jap into Steve’s side as he watched you, eyes glued to your nearing form. Steve looked from Bucky to you, his agitation at being hit swiftly melting to pure shock at seeing you advance towards them. By the time you stood in front of them, their eyes were bulging out of their heads and their jaws were hanging open.

“Hi,” your voice was timid but you refused to lose your nerve; you just had no idea how either of them were going to react to, well, you.

“Hi,” They both replied at once, sounding breathy and completely bewildered. At least they were speaking.

“Can we talk? Somewhere more private?” You clutch your hands in front of you, fingers twiddling together in anxiety, a lump growing in your throat as you awaited their answer.

The boys glanced at each other, stunned into silence, never expecting to hear you say this to them after everything they put you through, but they knew as well as you did that this rift between the team had to be fixed.

“Uh- Sure Y/N,” Bucky answered, seemingly more composed than Steve who struggled to meet your gaze.

“Where did you want to go?” Steve’s voice was barely above a whisper but the rawness still made you flinch.

“Uh, I was hoping we could maybe use your room?” This caused both pairs of blazing blue eyes to snap up at you, neither expecting you to say that. The thought that you would want to be so alone with them on Steve’s floor honestly shocking them both.

Of course, it wasn’t always like that; Steve’s room was where the three of you could normally be found, it was the biggest of all your rooms and so it was where you spent most your time together, back when you were inseparable from each other. That seemed like another life now, after everything that happened between the three of you. You wondered if you would ever be able to any of your friendship with the boys back or if it was truly destroyed beyond repair.

“Uh, O-ok, sure, yeah - let’s go,” Steve stuttered out, eyes wide with disbelief.

The three of you made your way to the elevator, more than aware of the eyes of the others glued to your forms as you left the party, everyone was painfully aware of the significance of what was about to transpire.

Not one of you spoke as the elevator ascended to Steve’s floor, the tension between you palpable, eyes cast on the doors as you all awaited them to open with baited breath. You and Bucky both followed Steve into his lounge, the three of you at an awkward stand off as you each waited for the other to make the first move. You could feel the tightness in every muscle of your body, your back rigid with the stress that filled your bones and one quick look at both of the boys let you know they felt the exact same way.

It never used to be like this, you bitterly reminisced the times when you were all so comfortable around each other; your relationship with Bucky and Steve used to be one of the strongest you had, you never felt obligated to be anything but yourself, even on your worst days there was no pretending and you knew it was the same for them too. To put it simply: they were your home, the only place you ever wanted to be and without them you felt impossibly lost.

To your surprise, Steve was the first one to make a move: “We should sit down, something tells me this is going to be a long night.”

Bucky and Steve both sat down on the couch but you remained standing in front of them, drawing both of their attention to you, your heart beat accelerating under their scrutiny.

“Listen, there’s a lot we have to all have to say but I just need to get through this then you can say whatever what you want to when I’m done, but I have to get this off my chest, ok?”

Steve and Bucky both nodded at your request, waiting patiently for you to say what you had to say as you took a deep breath to steady yourself. You could feel the emotional floodgates within you crashing under the pressure and knew everything was about to spill from your lips.

“Right so, I guess I should start at the beginning; before all this happened, before we even stopped being friends, I realized something terrifying – I’m in love with you, both of you -” Steve and Bucky’s heads snapped up to you, eyes wide with astonishment as you tried your hardest to stop the hot tears from trailing across your cheeks “- and it terrified me. I mean how can I be in love with two different people? Let alone, my two closest friends. I couldn’t let this come between us but I had no idea what to do, I couldn’t be around you anymore without thinking about how I wanted more from both of you. So, I did the only thing I could do, I took a step back from you guys, I tried to put space between us because I needed to get over you both.”

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling now and quickly wiped them away, willing your lip to stop quivering as a shuddering gasp wracked your chest as you continued your rambling. “I mean what other choice did I have? Even if one of you felt remotely the same, it wouldn’t have been fair to you, I still would have been in love with the other. And, fuck, if both of you felt the same then what? I come between you two? After everything that happened, everything the both of you have gone through to get back to each other I was not going to get between you – no way.”

You looked up to see the look of despair plastered on Steve and Bucky’s faces, the both of them having inched closer to the edge of the sofa like they were waiting for the word to jump up and embrace you in their arms. And part of you wanted nothing more than to cuddle up with them, shut out the outside world and bury yourself under blankets and super-soldiers but you knew you had to finish this.

“It wasn’t easy you know? To walk away from you both was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done and I’m so sorry I left you with no explanation, you didn’t deserve that at all. I felt like I was missing part of myself when I was away from you guys and I’m so, so sorry I wasn’t there for you when you guys needed me.”

You let out a humorless chuckle before continuing with your explanation, “And then Tony had this idea for these goddamn parties and everything just went to shit. I never intended for any of this to happen you have to believe me, it just sort of did. I know it’s no excuse, I really do but I walked in that first party and I saw Bucky talking to that girl at the bar and it just felt like someone had ripped my heart out of my chest.”

“Fuck, Y/N I -”

“Buck, I don’t blame you; you weren’t mine, you never were, you’re free to be with whoever you want. Hell, I don’t expect you to remain single just because I love you, that’s not fair to you. But anyway, I ran into Steve - quite literally – and god I just missed you so much I couldn’t bring myself to leave him. I thought you were occupied for the night so I felt no reason not to be with Steve but then one thing led to another and we slept together.”

You saw Steve duck his head, a tell-tale sign he was attempting to hide his tears from you and you felt even worse, “Steve I swear to you it wasn’t because of seeing Bucky with that girl. I love you so much, it was just seeing Bucky with another woman was what have me the push to actual do something about it. And yeah that doesn’t make it any better, I was still head over heels in love with Bucky when I slept with you and I was still incredibly in love with you when I slept with Bucky. I’ve been selfish I know that but God, what you two did to me nearly killed me. I know you may not believe me when I tell you a love you both, I know how crazy it sounds, I know ok – but fuck, Steve you left right after we had sex, you made me feel so broken and used and I couldn’t understand why, the only thing you told me was not to tell anyone and I felt I was the biggest mistake of your life, you get that right?”

A sob shook through Steve’s body and he abandoned trying to hide his tears from you, his blue eyes seemingly sparkling under the sheen of tears forming and you knew you looked no better.

“And then you, Buck, what the fuck? Did you sleep with me just because Steve did? Were you just getting even with him with this stupid ‘agreement’?”

You watched as Bucky pulled at the roots of his hair in frustration at himself and Steve’s hand came up to grasp the back of his neck as he fought to find words.

“I wanted to hate you both so much after that, I had every damn right too but I just couldn’t do it. I still loved you both even though you made me feel completely worthless to you both, you understand that right? You two mean more to me than anything and you treated me like I was toy, like I meant nothing to you and it destroyed me. But I still loved you and that infuriated me more than anything and then there was that mission and I have never made such a stupid, reckless mistake in my life. Steve I swear to you I never intended for that to happen, Jesus Christ you got shot and it’s all my fault – I didn’t listen and you had to take a fucking bullet.”

You couldn’t control yourself anymore, your legs giving out beneath you as cries tore from your throat, your body shaking with the effort. Before you could hit the floor two sets of arms wrapping around you and lifting you up with minimal effort, they placed you between them on the couch, sitting so close to you that there wasn’t any space between you. You could feel the heat rolling from their bodies in waves and it was a familiar comfort to you, your head lolling to rest on Steve’s shoulder as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, Bucky snaking his hand around your waist to pull your torso closer to him.

“Y/N, what happened was unfortunate, but it wasn’t your fault, we never should have gone into that mission whilst we were in such a bad place,” Steve sighed out.

“Doll, you weren’t the only one that ignored direct orders,” The guilt was heavy in Bucky’s voice.

They both grasped one of your hands in theirs; Bucky entwining his fingers with yours as Steve ran his thumb in circles across the skin of your hand. Both gestures providing you with enough comfort for you to regain control of your breathing and you stayed like that for as long as possible.

Eventually your raspy voice pierced through the deafening silence of the room with a single question.

“Why?”

You didn’t need to ask anymore, they knew exactly what you wanted to know. Why did Steve leave you? Why did Bucky sleep with you? Why did they have an ‘agreement’? Why did you let it get so fucking bad?

The boys disentangled their limbs from yours, the three of you sitting up as you awaited their explanation. You just wanted to understand.

“Y/N, me and Buck, we both love you,” Steve spoke up softly, “I know you may not believe that after everything we put you through but hear us out doll, please.”

You nodded mutely as your heart started racing. They both loved you? Fuck.

“Me and Stevie started realising we loved you before all this happened and we started realising the other loved you too. In order not risk our friendship or put you in an awkward position we both agreed not to do anything about it, the last thing we wanted was for you to be hurt by us. That clearly didn’t work,” Bucky’s voice was remorseful and you felt a tug at your heart strings.

“Y/N, Bucky’s my best friend. I’d do anything for him and he’d do anything for me but the idea of him being with you whilst I had to sit back and watch would have crushed me and he felt the same about me being with you. I couldn’t blame him and he couldn’t blame me – we both love you, we both understand what the others feeling.”

“That’s what the agreement was about; neither would make a move, neither would date you, we’d all still get be friends. We thought it was the solution to our problem, we figured we’d be able to get over you in time and then it’d be all ok. But then you cut us out of your life and we thought that maybe you’d figured out that we loved you. We thought it was your way of telling us you didn’t feel the same.”

Steve moved to face you, his eyes bloodshot from his previous tears and he looked positively disgraced with himself, “Y/N, that night of the party, I never meant for that to happen. You have no idea how much I wanted to stay with you, how much I want to go back to that moment and not let you go. But I couldn’t. You said Bucky’s name and I knew that I betrayed him. God, I felt sick leaving you like that, I was trying to stop you getting hurt – if I had stayed the truth would have come out and you would have been put in that impossible position we were trying to protect you from. I figured if you lost me as a friend you’d still have Bucky, right? I tried to put it behind me but it was so fucking hard, every time I saw you I remembered what it was like to be with you and fuck, I wanted nothing more than to be with you but I just couldn’t do that to Buck. You get that, right Doll?”

The desperation in Steve’s voice caused your heart to ache, he needed you to understand why he did what he did. Of course you understood, sure it hurt like nothing else but he was trying to protect his friendship with Bucky, and your friendship with Bucky for that matter. You couldn’t blame him for that, it was exactly what you were trying to do when you completely shut them both from your life.

You couldn’t form any words, your lack of articulation always finding you at the most opportune of moments and instead nodded through another onslaught of tears. Your hand came up to cup Steve’s cheek and his came up to immediately cover yours, savoring the contact he’d been starved of since your night together.

“I was so pissed off with Steve, Y/N you have no idea. And not just because he slept with you but because he left you, he hurt you and I never want to see you hurt. When we slept together it wasn’t for revenge - I would never do that to you - it wasn’t to get even, I just wanted to be with you. Steve had never told me what happened so when you told me he’d slept with you and ran, I assumed it was because he didn’t want you and I figured if he didn’t then maybe we could make it work. It wasn’t until after the – the… accident that we talked it through. It was only then that I realized why he did what he did and even though it wasn’t the smartest of moves but he was trying to protect you. And me.”

Jesus Christ; this was a lot to take in, you felt dizzy with all the new information swimming through your brain and you had never been so emotionally drained in your life. You collapsed ungracefully against the back of the couch, all tautness your body previously held leaving, too exhausted to keep this up any longer.

“What a fucking mess,” You muttered under your breath, Steve and Bucky both turned where they still sat rigid, shame so evident on both their faces. You lifted your arms out to both of them and neither hesitated to join you in your accustomed position.

Steve cuddled into your side, head buried in your neck as Bucky lay his head on your lap. One hand played with Bucky’s hair whilst the other ran up and down the expanse of Steve’s back, the actions as soothing for you as they were for them.

“We’re so sorry Y/N,” Steve’s words came out muffled against the skin of your neck.

“We never meant for any of this, we swear, we’ll do anything to make it up to you,” Bucky chimed up from his place on your lap.

“I forgive you.”

Steve shot out from the crook of your neck, eyes bulging with incredulity whilst Bucky peered up at you hopefully. “You do?” They both questioned at once.

“Yeah, I never wanted to be mad at you, and I’m not entirely innocent in all this – do you forgive me?” You glanced at Steve from the corner of your eye, still feeling the weight of getting Steve shot on your shoulders.

“I’m fine Y/N, you have to forgive yourself for that.”

You shot Steve a small smile which he returned before pulling you into a hug, his arms encasing you in his embrace and you relaxed into him.

“Hey, hey, hey! I’m down here you know! Jesus, you’ve got my hair stuck between you,” Bucky’s cries of protest had you giggling as you pulled away from Steve, shooting Bucky and apologetic look as you untangled his hair from between you and Steve.

“Told you to get a haircut, you hippy,” Steve snorted out.

“Shut it punk, ladies love the locks,” Bucky shot back, it was quiet for a beat before you all erupted into fits of laughter.

That eased the suspense between you greatly and for a moment it was just like before any of this had happened, back when you were this inseparable unit.

“You know, we could have avoided all this if we’d just told each other the truth instead of seconding guessing how we would have reacted,” You said, the power of hindsight always was a bitch.

“I know doll,” Steve replied, as fed up with all this as you were.

“You know, we still need to talk about what we’re gonna do now,” Bucky chimed in.

“What can we do? Can we be friends? Don’t get me wrong I do forgive you but I still love you both, and knowing you both love me isn’t helping at all.”

“So, what? This is it?” Bucky shot up from your lap, moving to sit beside you.

“I don’t know what else there is we can do Buck,” You winced as the words left your mouth but you knew they were true.

“What if there was a way we could all be happy?” You raised a brow at Steve, confused at what he was getting at.

“Listen, if I’m out of line here feel free to tear me a new one and we can pretend I never said anything, but - but what if you dated both of us?” Steve was obviously anxious as he told you what he was thinking and you couldn’t help your mouth from falling open in astonishment.

Was Steve Rogers, Captain freakin’ America, suggesting what you thought he was suggesting? You shot a quick glance to Bucky and his expression was stoic but his eyes glittered with something recognizable.

“What do you mean?” You asked cautiously, you sure as hell didn’t want to get the wrong end of the stick with this.

“I mean, if Buck’s ok with it, you could date both of us – be with both of us. You love both of us, and Buck and are never gonna be without the other. It just seems like everyone could be happy if we did this.”

“Do you think it could work?” You were still trepidatious about the whole thing, how the hell could it work, did people even do this kind of thing? Hell, you were still shocked Steve had suggested such a thing.

“I think we’d be stupid not to try,” Steve could only shrug at you as Bucky remained silent during the whole exchange.

You bite on your bottom lip as you mulled the idea over, you and Steve and Bucky, in a relationship. You weren’t going to lie, you’d thought about it before – it was the perfect solution to your dilemma - but it was a fantasy; surely it couldn’t work in reality. How would you manage such a thing? What the hell would the others think? Fuck, what did Bucky think, he still hadn’t said a word.

“Buck?” You turned to him with a furrowed brow, you had no idea what to say to him but you needed him to say something.

“Steve’s right, we’d be stupid not to try - but only if you’re comfortable with all this Doll.”

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline at this; Bucky was territorial, you never expected him to be so ok with this.

“Doll, Steve’s a part of me and I’m apart of Steve. It honestly makes sense to me after everything we’ve shared together that we’d share a relationship.”

You nodded as you mulled over his words, still unsure about what to do.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to decide anything right now you know. How about we just relax, it’s been one hell of a night, you can decide whenever you want but for now can we please just unwind? I can practically hear the gears in your head turning at full force tryin’ to figure this out.”

You couldn’t stop the breathy chuckle that escaped at Steve’s words as you nodded in agreement, sometimes Steve knew you better than you knew yourself and you couldn’t help but think about how much you just wanted to relax with your boys like you used to.

Steve moved to put a movie on whilst Bucky went to collect blankets for the three of you to snuggle under, it was as if you had never stopped doing movie nights every Friday with them and you couldn’t help but contemplate how easy it was to just fall back in with them. Maybe they were right, maybe you would be stupid not to at least try it.

As the opening credits played out, you found yourself automatically leaning into Steve’s chest whist Bucky nestled his chest into your back, arms wrapping around your waist as Steve’s arm cradled round your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. The actions came without thinking but what struck you was how normal it felt. Sure, you used to cuddle with both of them all the time when you were friends with them, but even after everything had been put on the table and you knew they loved you and you loved them – it still felt like the most natural thing in the world to be in both of their arms.

As much as you tried, focusing on the movie was impossible, your mind decided to taunt you with images of Steve and Bucky and the relationship the three of you could have. You imagined waking up squashed between two super-soldiers, you imagined trying you damned hardest to cook breakfast whilst they did nothing but get in the way, you imagined lazy Sundays together cuddled under blankets not a word said between you but there didn’t need to be. You pictured just getting to be with both of them the way you craved; being the one they both went to when they needed someone, being the one to hold after their nightmares and kissing away their tears when everything was just too much for them.

And then you realized, it wasn’t hard to imagine because you weren’t imagining it. You were remembering it. This was exactly what you had before you left them both, you had just never put any definitive labels on it other than friendship, it wouldn’t have changed much to just take that one small step further. Honestly, the only thing holding you back was fear; what would happen if the others didn’t agree with it? What would happen if one of them decided they couldn’t do it anymore? What about the future?

Your mind was over-flowing with what ifs, until you decided that they weren’t a good enough reason to not try. The situation wouldn’t be conventional but nothing else about your lives were either, I mean you were Avengers for fuck sake, you didn’t exactly work nine-to-five in some office, normal had always been out of the question. Especially for the hundred-year-old war veterans sitting beside you.

You didn’t even notice the movie playing, the thoughts your mind was flooding you with of Steve and Bucky far more appealing to you. It was only when Bucky and Steve began to pull away from you that you noticed the film had ended, for two hours you’d done nothing but fantasize about your potential relationship with Bucky and Steve and you knew what you wanted to do.

The loss of body heat hit you immediately and you wanted nothing more than to go back between their arms. Steve went to turn the TV off whilst Bucky stretched his arms above his head, groaning at as the kinks in the muscles were freed. You sat still, biting on your lip as you considered your next words and the impact they would have on the three of you.

“Do you really think we could make it work?” That simple question had both their heads snapping towards you, “I mean, do you honestly think you’d both be ok with it?”

They were both beside you in a flash, eyes roaming over your face, trying to find any signs you didn’t mean what you were saying. The shot each other an incredulous look, not believing that you would be open to being with both of them.

“We can make it work Doll, it won’t be easy but what relationship is?” Bucky exclaimed, desperation leaking into his words in an attempt for you to give the whole thing a chance.

“But can you honestly see yourself sharing me, sharing a relationship? I know you love me Buck and I love you too but I love Steve just as much, can you really be ok with that? What about the future? I mean how the hell would it work?”

You knew it was what you wanted but you had to be sure they both understood what exactly they were proposing to you, this wasn’t going to be a temporary fling – if you were going to agree to this you needed to be sure they knew you were in for the long run. You were not getting hurt again.

“Y/N, me and Steve both getting to love you – it just feels right for us. Me and Stevie, we’ve been through so damn much together it feels strange when we aren’t together. We swear on our mother’s graves that we’d take damn good care of you doll.”

Steve moved to kneel in front of you, eyes locked on yours with an intensity foreign to you, “Sweetheart, me and Buck would be honored if you let us love you. Nothing would get in the way of that, Bucky’s a part of me and I’m a part of him and we love you more than anything in this world. We promise we’d make it up to you for everything we’ve done – just, please, doll, please give us a chance.”

The sincerity shining in Steve’s blue eyes was breaking through your resolve and when you turned to see Bucky looking at you with a similar look of hopefulness it broke to pieces.

“Ok,” You whispered out but you knew they heard you as they both jumped to surround you in their arms. A few tears slipped from your closed eyes as you nestled into their arms, your vulnerability being overcome by the sense of security Steve and Bucky’s hold gave you.

You pulled away, quickly wiping the tear away, beyond certain that after all the crying you’d done tonight your make up was ruined and your eyes were glaringly red, “So do we do now?”

Bucky chuckled at your question, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear and tracing his finger down your jaw, the corner of his mouth curling up as you shivered at the contact, “Whatever you want to do, Doll.”

You continue staring at Bucky for a minute, getting lost in the passion swirling in his icy-blue eyes before your gaze started to drift down to his lips. You knew it was soon - probably far too soon - but you just wanted to feel that overwhelming sense of home that you did when you were with Steve and Bucky.

Slowly, you began to lean in, giving him plenty of time to refuse your advances. He didn’t. Your lips met in a tentative kiss that soon began to heat up, mouths moving in perfect synchrony as your hands clutched at the fabric of his shirt covering his chest, his hand coming up to cup the back of your neck as he deepened the kiss.

You broke the kiss when the need for air became too much, turning back to face Steve and moving forward to press your lips against his but were stopped by him, his brows furrowed with concern as he rested his forehead against yours, eyes locked on yours trying to find the reassurance he needed within your own gaze.

“Y/N are you sure you want this? We don’t have to rush into anything.”

Typical Steve, forever worried about making you uncomfortable, you could still remember the day he first asked if it was ok if he hugged you, how red the tips of his ears burned.

“Steve I want this, please I just need to feel you – both of you.” You stood up from the couch, holding your hands out for Steve and Bucky to take. They shared a look and you knew they were talking without sharing a word between each other, you had fast become used to them doing this in your time around them. Reaching out they both took one of your hands and stood beside you, “I just want to feel secure like I do with you both - we don’t have to if you don’t want.”

Steve didn’t answer you, instead cupped your jaw in his hand and brought you in for a tender kiss, the memorable taste of Steve flooding your senses as you drowned in the feeling of his soft lips on yours, tongue dancing with your own as your fingers weaved through tufts of his hair. You gasped when you felt Bucky behind you, hands on your waist as he buried his face in your neck, kissing and nipping at the soft flesh there as you jerked in his arms, hips rolling back against his.

“Bedroom?” You murmured against Steve’s lips, Bucky groaning into your skin at the words as Steve hastily nodded in agreement.

The three of you stumbled to Steve’s room, not wanting to stop touching each other for even a minute making the journey far harder than it should have been. You eventually made it, all three of you harshly panting, chests rising and falling in anticipation for what was about to happen. Who advanced first you couldn’t tell but there was soon a flurry of movements as you tore clothes form each other, Bucky ripping your shirt off whilst you worked on the buckle of Steve’s belt.

Soon, you all stood bare in front of each other, your nerves getting the better of you as you shifted to cover yourself. Before your arms could cross against your chest, Bucky and Steve moved forward to pull your arms away, leaving you feeling incredibly exposed in front of them. Heat burned across your cheeks as you felt their gaze wander over every part of you and you refused to look them in the eyes.

Bucky’s metal hand lifted your chin up, forcing you to lock eyes with his, “Doll don’t hide yourself from us-”

“- you’re gorgeous, Y/N. And we’ll prove it too you.” Steve finished for him, pressing a kiss to the bare skin of your shoulder.

They walked you backwards towards the bed, the back of your knees hitting the edge and sending you toppling down on the mattress with a bounce. You crawled up the bed as the boys followed you, a predatory look marred across their faces, your breath hitched in your throat at the sight and you practically forgot how to breathe when the caged you underneath them, the sight causing your cunt to clench with need as you mewled in desire.

Bucky and Steve smirked at the sound and a chill ran down your spine at the sight, nipples hardening as lust pooled in your core.

“Look at that Buck – so desperate, so responsive, and we haven’t even started.”

“I think you’re right Stevie, we should probably do something about it.”

Steve’s lips attacked yours, kiss filled with teeth and tongue that was frantic in urgency, meanwhile Bucky moved to your breasts, tongue circling your hardened nub as his hand kneaded the globe of the other. You moaned into the kiss when Bucky’s lips suckled on your nipple, your back jolting from the bed as Steve nipped on your bottom lip whilst Bucky pinched your hardened bud in perfect synchronization. Your head was spinning as you endured the double onslaught of sensations, Bucky and Steve moving in perfect harmony just like they did on the battlefield.

Bucky slithered down your torso, pressing soft kisses on your stomach and hips on his descent as Steve moved to attack your neck, hands taking over from Bucky’s on your breasts and you keened at the never-ending feeling of two sets of hands roaming your body, never being able to anticipate exactly what they were going to do next. You were certain neither of their lips had left your body since you’d started and you wondered for a brief moment how many bruises were going to litter your skin once this was over.

Your thoughts were soon stalled as Bucky parted your legs, a low, desperate groan leaving his lips as your slick slit was revealed to him. Bucky licked his lips, eyes darkening unbelievably as he pressed kisses down the inside of your thigh, his heavy breaths hitting your sensitive cunt causing your hips to jolt from the bed. Steve chuckled into your neck, sucking a dark mark into the skin before murmuring in your ear: “I think Buck wants a taste Doll, you gonna let him eat that pretty little pussy out?”

You couldn’t prevent the guttural moan that tore from you at Steve’s words, hand moving to cradle the back of his neck as he darted down to lavish attention on your breasts with his mouth, lips encasing one of your sensitive nubs whilst his fingers tweaked the neglected one. Your hips rolled in an attempt to bring Bucky’s mouth to your dripping cunt, not having the brain cells available to form words.

Steve’s dark chuckled reverberated through your nipple causing you to whimper and he pulled off with a wet pop, “I think that’s a yes, Buck.”

Bucky wasted no time delving between your legs, licking a long line from your weeping entrance up to circle at your throbbing clit. He groaned as he lapped at you, devouring you like he was a man starved and your other hand shot down to bury itself in his thick hair, pulling him closer to you, something he had no qualms with.

Having Bucky and Steve both working you towards euphoria was nearly too much, every part of you felt oversensitive and yet you still craved more. You cradled both of their heads, not wanting their mouths to stop their assault on your body as your writhed and convulsed beneath them. Your thighs shuddered as a fresh wave of arousal gushed from your pussy, Bucky happily slurping at everything you were giving him, making the obscenest sounds of delight mixing with the satisfyingly vulgar wet sounds of his actions.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky whispered into your heat, your back arching off the bed as he suckled on your clit as Steve’s teeth grazed over your nipple, the overstimulation making them feel raw in the best of ways, “Stevie you’ve got to taste her.”

Steve peered up at you, pupils blown with hunger as a sinister smirk grew across his plump lips before he moved to join Bucky between your thighs. You expected Bucky to move back up to kiss you as Steve had his turn but you were very wrong.

Bucky pulled your thigh, opening you up more as Steve put the other on his shoulder to give them both more access to you; they both moved to lap at your cunt, Steve’s tongue working at your entrance before delving inside whilst Bucky’s lips encased your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves whilst his tongue tightly traced over it in circles.

The whines and cries spilling from your mouth mixed with the growls and moans erupting from deep within the boys’ chests as the taste of you flooded their tongues. Your hands gripped at the sheets beneath you, knuckles turning white as your clenched your first, trying to seek some purchase to keep you grounded as pleasure sizzled through every nerve in your body. You couldn’t stop your hips from bucking, back arching, as you chased your pleasure; your body quivering as your orgasm build deep within you, coil tightening in your stomach as the boys pushed you closer to release.

Bucky pinned your hips down to the bed with his arm, using his fingers to part your folds as pulled the hood back from your clit, sucking harshly on the exposed nerves as Steve’s tongue ravenously plunged deep within you, the combination throwing you over the edge, eyes screwing shut as your thighs twitched and trembled around both their heads. You threw your head back with a scream, toes curling in the sheets as your orgasm washed over you, drowning you in delirious pleasure.

You lay spent on the bed as Steve and Bucky licked you clean, bringing you down from your high by scattering butterfly kisses on the skin of your stomach and inner thighs, your head still reeling from the whole experience.

“Holy shit,” you breathed out, unbelieving what had just happened. You sure as hell had never done that before.

“You ok, doll?” Steve questioned, moving to lie by your side as his fingers gently stroking up and down your arm to calm your racing heart.

You couldn’t form words, only able to hum in content: you were more than ok.

Bucky flopped down on the opposite side, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he propped himself up on his arm, a smug grin donning his face. “I think she’s more than ok, huh babygirl?”

You could only roll your eyes at the teasing lilt in Bucky’s tone but the dopey smile on your face gave you away entirely. Bucky had never been more right in his life and you damn well knew it.

After what felt like an eternity of heavy breathing, your euphoria slowly subsided and you braced yourself on your arms, eyes flittering across Bucky and Steve’s naked forms, planes of hard muscle under soft skin in the most delicious contrast. You felt so small next to their bulking forms but it offered you a sense of comfort nothing else in this world could provide. Your eyes inevitably landed on their cocks, painfully hard and bobbing against their stomachs, pre-cum smearing against their skin.

“I guess I should repay the favour,” You said in the sultriest voice you could muster. Shuffling down the bed you ignored the protests from Steve and Bucky, both of them telling you that you didn’t have to do anything you didn’t want to. Of course, you disregarded their concerns, wanting nothing more than to wrap your hands around their aching cocks and watch their faces as they came undone under your hands.

You knelt between them both, licking your lips as you took in the sight in front of you, the two super-soldiers bare and agonisingly anticipating your touch, bare chests rising and falling with every harsh breath they took. You lightly dragged your nails up the skin of their thighs, the skin twitching under your touch as Bucky bite down hard on his lip and Steve’s face showed his eagerness, dying to feel your hand wrap around his pulsing cock.

Unwilling to spare anymore time, you wrapped a hand around each of their cocks, relishing in the hiss they each released at the contact. Swiping your thumb over their sensitive heads, you gathered the pre-cum beading there and using it was lubrication, you slowly jerked your hand up and down their cocks, pumping their lengths in your hands.

Bucky tugged at the roots of his hair as he groaned on the bed as Steve’s hips thrust in time with your fist, curses slipping from between his lips and the sight of them both propelling closer to that precipice caused wetness to start pooling in your core again, dampening your thighs as you clenched them together to try and alleviate the growing discomfort. An action that didn’t go unseen by Bucky.

“Oh babygirl, you need t’get fucked? Look at you squirmin’, need a big cock to fill you don’t you Y/N?” His words slurred as his need to cum fogged his brain.

You could only mewl and nod but it was enough for Bucky to spring towards you, lips clashing against yours in a bruising kiss before he flipped you onto your stomach, lifting your hips in the air and giving an appreciative smack to your ass.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” Bucky groaned out as he admired your dripping pussy.

Refusing to leave Steve out of the fun, you shifted to lie between his spread legs, resuming your attention on his cock whilst Bucky rubbed his length along your slit, coating himself in your juices as he let out a throaty moan at the feeling.

Your eyes caught the slight scarring where Steve was shot, the skin knotted together where it had healed and you couldn’t help but lean forward and press a gentle kiss on it. This didn’t go unnoticed by Steve, who cupped your jaw, tilting your head to look up at him, “It’s not your fault Y/N.”

“You gotta believe us Doll,” Bucky said between tender kisses on your shoulder, “Let us make you feel good babygirl, you’ll forget all about it, promise.”

Bucky slowly pushed into you, the sensation of him stretching you so deliciously causing you to grip Steve’s thighs to keep you upright, moans falling unabashedly from your mouth as Bucky grunted at the feeling of your wet walls hugging his girth.

He slowly began to rock his hips into yours, letting you adjust to him before he began to thrust harder and faster into you, his hands gripping your hips with bruising strength. You moved to take Steve’s length into your mouth; lapping at the pre-cum on the tip before suckling on the head, slowly licking your way down his length, mouthing at his balls before engulfing him into your mouth.

Your moans were muffled by Steve’s cock, every one you released sending a new wave of pleasure through him, his hands weaving through your hair to help your movements as Bucky pounded into you from behind. The room was filled with the most sinful sounds, the mattress squeaking in protest beneath you as the headboard repeatedly slammed into the wall, Bucky’s growls mixing with Steve’s grunts as the wet sound of skin slapping on skin, the noises filling the room enough to put a porno to shame. You moved in perfect time with each other, Bucky slamming into you as you pushed your mouth down on Steve’s cock, the three of you moving together as if you’d done it a thousand times before.

You could feel your second orgasm of the night quickly sneaking up on you and when Bucky’s cold metal hand slid under you to circle your clit you were thrown over the edge once again, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your moans cascaded from you. The feeling of your cries vibrating around his sensitive cock sent Steve flying into this own release, a deep groan falling from his lips as he pumped his hips into your mouth, his head thrown back as the tendons in his neck protruded, chest flushing red as he worked through his orgasm. You happily swallowed everything Steve gave you, lazily licking him clean as you both came down from your highs.

Bucky was propelled to the brink of orgasm as he watched you suck Steve off and when your silken walls finally clamped down on his cock, he couldn’t hold off any longer. An animalistic roar tore from his throat as his hips harshly thrusted into a final few times, his cum coating your walls as his length throbbed and pulsed within you as you milked him of his release.

The three of you collapsed on the bed, Bucky pulling out of you slowly and helping you move to lay among the pillows, him and Steve toppling beside you. The silence off the room was pierced by the sounds of your jagged breathing, the boys sounding no better.

“Holy fuck, that was-”

“-Amazing,” Steve and Bucky finished for you and you could only let out a breathless chuckle in agreement.

“I don’t think I can ever move again.”

They boys caught their breath much quicker than you, but you blamed that on the serum running through their veins, and they soon left the bed: Bucky heading to the bathroom to fetch a wash cloth whilst Steve headed to the kitchen to fetch you all some water as you lay there, still completely wrecked by the number they’d done on you.

You could have sworn you’d never cum so hard before in your life and considering you were having trouble even lifting your arms your body was seemingly agreeing with you.

Once they returned, Steve helped prop you up, leaning you against his sturdy chest as he fed you the ice-cold water as Bucky gently cleaned the mess between your thighs, the cool wash cloth soothing the ache that was already prominent. After you were all cleaned up, the three of you settled into the bed, Bucky spooning you from behind as you rested your head on Steve’s chest. Bucky’s hands settled on your waist, fingers tracing light shapes on the exposed skin as Steve played with your hair, their actions pushing you closer to the sleep that was trying to claim you.

“We should keep this between us, until we figure out how exactly we can make it work, I don’t want anyone ruining it before we even get the chance to start, ya know?”

“Whatever you want babygirl,” Bucky complied, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before burying his face in your hair.

Steve pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Sure thing Y/N, get some sleep, we can sort the rest of it in the morning.”

You smiled sleepily at him, your eyes slipping closed as the weight of your fatigue finally caused you to succumb to sleep.

“Night boys - I love you.”

“We love you too,” They both murmured, the last thing you heard before you slipped into a deep sleep.

And hell, if that wasn’t one of the best night’s sleep you’d had in a long time.

a/n: i don’t have a tag list but if you want alerts please follow @angelicthorwrites and turn on notifications

#steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #steve x reader x bucky #steve x reader x bucky smut #angelicthorwrites

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blooddrinkingbartender · 5 years ago

Text

Team Fortress 2 Verse

Below, you will find a profile for Bill’s Team Fortress 2 verse, where he works as an Admin and occasional supplier. To be honest, it’s pretty much the same (even his backstory) as his regular self, except the game is set around the 60s/70s and Bill is an admin/supplier.

Name: William Godolphin IV (he started going by Bill Cyrus Goodwin during the 1800s, the surname was changed first during the 1500s, and he added the middle name in the mid 1950s)

Nickname: Vampire of Roxbury, Old Bill, Monster, Admin

Age: Around 800 years old (looks to be in his early to mid-thirties)

Birthday: 7th December 1171 (Star sign: Sagittarius)

Gender: Cis Male (he/him/his pronouns)

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual.

Species: Vampire (died and turned in the year of 1203)

Powers and Abilities: Mesmerism (able to force people to obey his commands, entrance them, or forget that they encountered him, it’s arguably his strongest skill, but it works a lot better when he’s also applying physical contact), flash steps (he can move at abnormal speeds. He can cross a long distance in a literal blink), heightened senses, forming very long claws, regeneration (the time it takes depends on the severity of the wound and how long it’s been since he last fed). Able to create his own shadow weapons of sorts, such as using them to create tendrils to grab/damage opponents, and he can smell lies ‘like when someone rips ass in a car’.

Weaknesses: Can’t enter a place without being invited (however, that doesn’t stop him using his mesmerism to force people to invite him in), some people can naturally see through the glamour and/or resist his mesmerism, fire (kills all vampires), sunlight (surprisingly, it doesn’t kill him, but it still burns him to the bone, leaves him in horrible pain, and makes him wish he could die), can’t utilise his super speed if he’s being watched (he can move quickly while you blink though), cannot consume normal food or drinks without vomiting them up again soon after (he still has eaten or drank normal things for the taste), the sap and juice of fresh plants burns him like acid, and holy symbols repel him (as long as the wearer/user knows this and/or has faith that it will. If it works, in his point of view, the symbol glows in a blinding light and he feels the sensation of something pushing him back.)

Ethnicity: White

Current Residence: Mainly lives and works at Coldfront base, but moves around as needed.

Former Residence: Many. His very first was Penzance in Cornwall, and then he kept moving from place to place after he was turned. During the 1500s, he moved to the United States, and now subconsciously speaks with an American twang (currently, his accent is associated with Massachusetts.)

Nationality: English (in particular, he came from Cornwall)

Mother: Glanna Godolphin (deceased)

Father: William Godolphin Sr. (deceased)

Siblings: None. He was the only surviving child out of eleven.

Other Family: He does have a few distant living relatives who are unaware of his existence due to having cousins that kept passing their blood on.

Height: 6’3”

Weight: 200lbs

Body Type: Mesomorph/Muscular

Hair: Ginger, as is his beard.

Eyes: Very pale grey with slit pupils and red sclerae (Regular grey with normal pupils and sclerae when glamouring)

Languages: English, American Sign Language (ASL), British Sign Language (BSL), Cornish, French, German, Russian and Latin and currently learning Japanese (he’s had plenty of time to learn.)

Distinguishing features: He has major burn scars on the right side of his abdomen, chest, part of his right arm, and just above his butt. A hunter managed to set him on fire. Luckily, before it could kill him, he managed to put himself out. That Hunter paid with her life. He is always physically cold. He can see himself in mirrors, despite popular belief. He’d be very sad if he couldn’t. The same goes for photographs. However, he doesn’t cast a shadow. If he doesn’t drink blood for a long time, he starts to age. Drinking blood reverses this effect.

He has three scars on his chest that are either from arrows or crossbow bolts. They’re all under his left pec muscle. He can only assume that that was how he died before he became a vampire; someone had shot at him three times and at least one of the projectiles had killed him.

He has a birthmark on the back of his left hand that’s shaped like a crescent. He often jokes that it’s because one of his ancestors was a werewolf. He also has a tattoo of a Cornish Heath plant snaking around and down his outer upper thigh.

He usually is in a ‘glamour mode’ of sorts in order to blend in with mortals a lot more easily. He can turn this on and off as he wishes, but some people are able to still see through it when it’s on. When he’s ‘glamouring’, his fangs look like normal teeth, his skin looks more like a healthy pink than the deathly white veiny visage it actually is, and his eyes look a warm grey with regular pupils rather than yellow with slit pupils and red sclerae.

If you can get him drunk (he needs to feed on a drunk person), tired enough (wake him up during the day), or flustered enough (good luck with that one), he’ll revert back into his English/Cornish accent.

He always carries a gun on his person; an original Colt Frontier Six-Shooter, of the Bisley 1895 model, 'just in case’.

Hobbies and Interests: Dancing, astronomy (might as well enjoy the stars if you’re nocturnal), origami, drawing, mythology (he has met some figures of myth, or so he claims), and smithing. He’s also pretty good at playing acoustic and electric guitars, acoustic and electric violins, a lyre, the harmonica, the ocarina, and the accordion.

Occupation: He works as a supplier and admin for both BLU and RED, at TFI. He simply does what he is asked by the higher-ups, but takes requests from the regular crew as needed. He is NOT connected to respawn due to his vampirism.

Personality: He’s friendly, he’s confident, and he can be rather eccentric at times. He’s far from shy and he enjoys the company of others. He lives to entertain, laugh, spread laughter and merriment, and give and get validation.

However, he can come across as conceited, arrogant, a show-off, a bit of a large ham at times, and/or a little bit too full-on for some people. That said, he honestly doesn’t mean harm (not anymore at least) and if you’re his friend, he will kill for you and do what he can to keep you happy.

He’s usually quite hard to anger. He can laugh off most insults or even attempts to hurt him physically. However, if you do make him mad, it’s your funeral, or at least your mind’s. He does try to keep himself in check however. He has no plans to go back to the sadistic bastard that he used to be.

Basic Backstory: Starting out his life in the coastal town of Penzance, Cornwall (in England), William Godolphin was the only survivor of the eleven children his parents gave birth to. His father was a lord and his mother was a blacksmith’s daughter who was married into the family.

William lived a fairly easy and unremarkable life with his loving mother, not-so-loving father and a few servants. His father made sure he worked hard however, not wanting to hand him everything on a silver plate, and told the same of his servants. That said, William was fairly well off, and spent his childhood and adult years getting ready to take on his father’s estate. On finding out his bloodline’s wealth and notoriety was founded on thievery, murder, extortion, he was not so willing to do so, but he was unsure of how to find a way out of it.

However, at the age of 31 years old, tragedy struck, and he was attacked and bitten while taking a walk. Despite being weakened by a draining of his blood, he was still determined to get home. But then he was shot and killed, reviving as a vampire soon after. He has no clue how he became a vampire, and who made him (although his maker would often speak into his head), and it did take him some time to get used to his new condition. However, after about fifty years or so, he managed to wrap his head around all of it.

He started out his unlife as a sadistic asshole, to be blunt. After the death of his parents (he hid his condition and they went to the grave never knowing what he became), he dismissed his servants to his father’s uncle’s house, took his inheritance, sold his old estate for a sizeable sum, and travelled. He toyed, hurt and killed humans as he pleased.

What he doesn’t know is that his maker was puppeting him from a distance during those three hundred years. He still believes the choices he made during that time were his own. It also took a toll on his mental state even centuries later.

During the mid-1500s (coincidentally, around the same time his maker died) however, he came to the realisation that he didn’t enjoy doing what he was doing. He didn’t enjoy hurting or killing others. He decided to try and use his abilities for good, targeting criminals like murderers or rescuing those who might have needed it. He knew he couldn’t bring back those he had killed or restore the minds he broke when he was still mastering his mesmerism abilities, but he could at least start doing better with his life and do his best not to hurt another person (within reason).

At this time, he changed his surname to Goodwin and went to the United States to settle there, moving from place to place (although he visited other places and went back to England from time to time). Over 300 years later, during the 1850s, he changed his first name to ‘Bill’ (becoming Bill Goodwin) and settled down in Roxbury, Boston, content to stay off blood for the rest of his immortal days and age into an elderly gentleman.

In the year of 1899, one of his neighbours gave birth to a baby boy. After the loss of her other children, this seemed to be a spot of hope for her. However, she had no love for this child. She even refused to give this son a name and was very abusive towards him as he grew older. Bill gave the boy a name and started to help raise him like he was own, growing attached to him like a son. Said boy grew up and a few months after he turned eighteen, was sent out to fight in the first world war. Bill killed and drained the kid’s mother soon after he left, planning to tell him she just died suddenly in her sleep if he came back. Despite Bill’s worries he wouldn’t survive, he was delighted to receive a letter telling him that he would be returning to America in the month of November of 1918.

His surrogate son wasn’t on the ship, much to his dismay. He was informed that he fell off on the way home and he wasn’t found. He suspected foul play and got the truth out of one his son’s friends. He had been caught kissing another man, beaten up and then thrown off the boat. He knew he couldn’t judge anyone for that (“I drink blood to sustain my own life and I’ve had a few different lovers over the years”), let alone the young lad. Hellbent on revenge, he set off to slaughter his surrogate son’s four murderers, even admitting that ‘even though it won’t bring him back, it makes me feel a hell of a lot better’. He drained them of their blood in the process, going from an old man back into his early-to-mid-thirties. He decided to stick to that age this time around.

He later found out his son survived and had washed up on London’s docks. He went there to find him, but much to his grief, he was told he had been killed in a violent brawl with a vampire the night before he arrived. However, he took said vampire down with him in a mutual kill. He wonders if his son possibly reincarnated and could be out there living a new life now.

He continued to travel around, learning new things and trying new stuff to keep himself busy. He still drank blood to sustain himself but he didn’t kill unless it was someone he felt ‘deserved it’. He also kept up with all the changes in technology. He even adapted his speech as needed, keeping up with slang and staying savvy with the times.

He eventually found his way to TFI and after some discussion, became an admin and a supplier for them.

As of now, he’s currently settled in Coldfront as his ‘main’ base of sorts, but he goes elsewhere as needed.

#ooc #ooc post #long post #Raising the Stakes | TF2 Verse

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paulbenedictblog · 5 years ago

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%news%

New Post has been published on %http://paulbenedictsgeneralstore.com%

News Google Stadia latency issues, value and library make it not worth the investment - The - The Washington Post

News

The Google Stadia felt esteem a miracle the moment I loaded Destiny onto a Google Pixel cell phone. Sitting in a lounge chair on a rooftop, I became once tremulous to conception that I became once in a situation to stream my broken-down Hunter around in aesthetic 60 frames-per-second fight. On a cell phone!

Nonetheless moments are fleeting, and latency on Google Stadia — the time distinction between your finger pressing a button and the game reacting to it — lasts longer, and leaves a extra lasting impression. The truth is, it generally renders video games unplayable. The service can and would possibly perchance perchance seemingly enhance, and already has one day of the early evaluate length. Nonetheless that’s essentially the most most well-known distinction between purchasing Stadia and real investing in gaming hardware. Google is promoting a service — and services would possibly perchance moreover be unreliable.

When played on a browser or LCD 4K TV, horrendous latency plagued singleplayer and multiplayer video games, giving a cinematic game esteem Shadow of the Tomb Raider the texture of an avant garde college grad venture, replete with buggy, rapid cuts. Precision photography had been now not doable in Destiny 2. Even strolling in a straight line became once a command within the otherwise honest indie game Gylt, the console’s handiest unfamiliar title.

I would possibly perchance perchance silent stress that every body among this took issue while taking half in Stadia by the employ of the Chromecast Extremely, which comes filled with the Founder’s or Premiere Model consoles (that some obtained’t receive quickly ensuing from stream delays), or by map of Google’s possess Chrome browser.

On the cell phone, on the opposite hand, an fully various story emerges. Whereas taking half in Destiny 2 in 60 fps on a Google Pixel 3a XL over a WiFi connection, there became once nearly no blurriness and barely any latency. Barring just a few noticeable but rapid skips one day of play, the photography produced had been rapid and gripping on the cell phone’s 2160x1080 resolution show hide.

These tests had been conducted with my WiFi at home, which gave me anyplace from 45 to 55 Mbps obtain speeds, smartly above the 35 Mbps Google says would possibly perchance perchance silent give me 60 frames-per-second stream in 4K resolution. They had been also conducted on The Washington Put up’s Gigabit Ethernet and WiFi service. In all cases, the cell phone outperformed the abilities on browsers and TVs.

As of Monday night time, the service in my home was seriously higher, even despite the indisputable truth that gameplay silent experienced some order.

Sooner than open, Stadia warned reviewers that taking half in on a Chromecast Extremely at work is now not supported, as “Chromecast doesn't toughen WPA2-Endeavor networks. Stadia’s TV abilities with Chromecast is designed for home networks the attach the Stadia controller and Chromecast are on the the same Local Residence Network.”

On the opposite hand, our work tests that displayed heavy latency and enter inch had been performed on a Chrome browser by map of an Ethernet-wired notebook computer within the newsroom, as smartly as over the newsroom WiFi on the Pixel. A Stadia spokesperson acknowledged company networks would possibly perchance perchance now not play smartly with the service this present day.

“Corporate networks also are usually congested ensuing from a high quantity of job, which is counter-productive to increasing distinct you possess a soft gaming abilities the attach processing occurs in true time,” they added.

We examined six titles forward of Tuesday’s open: Destiny 2, Crimson Dreary Redemption 2, Mortal Kombat 11, Gylt and Kine. Destiny 2, a 2017 game, is Stadia’s open centerpiece, and the preferrred various game incorporated with the $9.99-a-month Stadia Pro subscription apart from closing-minute addition Samurai Shodown. In a closing-minute effort to procedure extra avid gamers, over the weekend Stadia announced that it could perchance be expanding its open lineup from 12 to 22 video games, reasonably just a few them over a year broken-down.

The worth of taking half in Destiny 2 on Stadia comes from Bungie’s horrible-saving characteristic, which allowed me to import my PlayStation 4 character into the Stadia version. Bigger than a novelty, it’s a helpful and efficient formulation to acquire up and grind out just a few ranges in low-stakes gameplay while using in a automobile. And that you just would possibly well even salvage in just a few multiplayer rounds from the comfort of your mattress.

The truth is, Stadia’s worth is at its top with a game esteem Destiny 2 — and truly no various open title we examined. Crimson Dreary’s taking pictures and Mortal Kombat’s ... smartly ... fight all functioned as expected, at least at any time when enter inch and streaming latency weren’t a controversy. Nonetheless they’re all otherwise the the same broken-down video games, real generally extra fuzzy and no more purposeful as they had been years ago.

Within the mean time, Stadia appears easiest suited for video games that assist persisted, gradual development, especially ones that enable for some horrible-platform aspects esteem Destiny 2′s cloud saves. Stadia works huge for the vogue of player who needs to register on their game one day of the day. There’s a limited more than a few of video games on Stadia that fit this bill. Essentially the most evident omission is Fortnite, arguably the enviornment’s most smartly-most well liked video game.

Fortnite and the original Name of Duty: Contemporary Warfare would had been two huge releases to showcase Stadia’s versatility. Whereas the Stadia isn’t supreme for aggressive play, the video games’ development methods don’t require high-level abilities. One clear, compelling employ case for a Stadia player is the capacity to growth in a Fortnite season pass from the neighborhood library’s computer.

One other disappointing discovery: Video games on the Stadia cease now not characteristic the graphical strategies supplied on PC releases. Gamers obtained’t be in a situation to toggle resolutions, visual or texture outcomes or frames per second. With regards to presentation, gamers are left at the mercy of developers and Google’s servers.

Reviewing Stadia as a service feels a little esteem reviewing YouTube. The boom material isn’t reasonably there yet, and the service isn’t huge both. Nonetheless this model is presented as an intentional more than a few.

“It’s a residing, breathing service,” Jack Buser, Stadia’s director for video games and industry construction, stressed out in an interview with The Put up. “The Stadia you conception on day one will consistently evolve over time. We’ll be adding original technology, original aspects, original video games. Over time, it’s going to develop, we’ll toughen extra monitors, in consequence of we’re now not limited. We’re truly in a situation to enhance the technology within our recordsdata services with out having the consumer obtain original hardware.”

Google promised to commit to Stadia, mentioning various successful products esteem Gmail and the Play Store to engender some faith. Nonetheless it surely’s also laborious to brush aside the literal digital graveyard of past Google efforts. A web page known as KilledByGoogle.com lists 156 services, 18 apps and 16 hardware suggestions scrapped by the firm.

So right here’s a four-phrase evaluate on the Premiere Model in 2019: It’s now not worth it. We are able to’t guarantee it’ll work smartly with your connection, given the wild variable instability we experienced at The Put up even with high-traipse broadband capabilities. As reported broadly, a host of promised aspects aren’t on hand at open.

The controller, for what it’s worth, is exceptional, a pleasure to retract. Nonetheless the triggers feel a little looser than they ought to be, and future Stadia users will potentially be higher off using any controllers they already possess.

Premiere Editions are silent on hand online for $129 which comes with a controller, a Chromecast Extremely ($69) and a 3-month subscription to Stadia Pro, which affords you Destiny 2 and Samurai Shodown totally free. Besides the Chromecast Extremely packed in with the sector, Stadia is playable on Pixel telephones and tablets working the Chrome running machine. Heaps of gadgets, esteem the iPhone, could be on hand later.

The varied video games esteem Crimson Dreary Redemption 2? You silent must lift them one by one, albeit at a lowered imprint. Crimson Dreary Redemption 2 is the finest title at open, but it’s over a year broken-down and silent sells at the open imprint of $60. It’s laborious to mediate the player who truly wanted to play Crimson Dreary Redemption 2 and lacked the property to play it a year ago, but who would pony up $129 to play it on Stadia this present day.

Stadia’s deplorable salvage admission to will open subsequent year, and it’s handiest then that Stadia’s beefy capacity could be seen: As a web storefront to salvage admission to essentially the most fresh video games straight away. There’s novelty and worth in that.

As Crimson Dreary 2′s open date became once moved up, I became once in a situation to salvage admission to the game on my Stadia app straight away. No downloads, no patches nor updates. I real jumped shapely into the game’s snowy introduction in lower than a minute. I silent keep in mind the hours it took to acquire the fashioned. By comparability, taking half within the game straight away in a browser feels esteem the future.

Stadia is definitely paving a original assemble of recordsdata toll road for gaming. My advice this present day is to dwell for your original lane except they cease that work.

Learn extra:

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supergirl-imagines · 8 years ago

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Lena Luthor/you fic pt. 12

“Don’t! Don’t fucking touch her! Lena? Lena, it’s okay.”

Rope digs into the wounds on your wrists, but you continue to pull against your restraints as hard as your depleted strength will allow. You’re exhausted, in an incredibly familiar amount of pain, but it can’t possibly phase you at this point. Not when they got Lena this time.

A cold laugh rings in your ears at a volume that almost deafens you. Bright light flashes from above and it illuminates the figure standing behind Lena’s battered form. Lillian sneers cruelly down at her daughter, who is breathing heavily and struggling to keep her head up.

“Get away from her!”

The words rip through your throat, which is hoarse from hours of screaming. You had watched the two masked thugs in the room do unthinkable things to Lena, no matter how loudly you screamed.

“I warned you. I warned you both.”

Lillian steps slowly out from the dimmer side of the room, her heels clicking on the cement, and she gripped Lena’s head in bony, pale hands. Your heart pounded so hard it seemed to rattle your ribcage.

“No, no, please! Don’t hurt her! Lena-“

Her name caught in your throat as a sickening snap accompanied the way Lillian twisted her daughter’s head sharply to the side-

“Y/N, wake up!”

Lena watched your eyes flash open, wild with panic, and found your hand under the blankets as you shot up in bed. A reminder of the state your body was in send a sharp ache through your chest from the sudden movement, but you were still reeling from the vision of what your subconscious had come up with. Something in the back of your mind begged you to get a grip, but icy terror continued to pulse through your veins. You didn’t feel safe. Lena wasn’t safe.

“—it was just a dream. Hey, can you look at me?”

Lena’s voice finally snapped you out of your hysterical state and she laid a hand on the less bruised side of your face. Your gaze found hers in the dark bedroom and you scrambled to wrap your arms around her and hold her close. She was okay. She was here. It was just you and her, safe in her room.

“I’m sorry,” you gasped out finally.

“Shh, it’s alright. You’re alright.”

Lena rubbed a gentle hand up and down your back and you did your best to focus on the feeling of her touch and the smell of her perfume. Little by little, the adrenaline in your system faded away and the sickening feeling in your stomach lessened. Lena continued to hold you in the dark solace of her bedroom, occasionally reminding you that you were alright with soft words. Once your pulse returned to normal, you pulled back from her and rubbed at your tired eyes; ashamed at how unabashedly fearful you had been in front of her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she offered. You could hear the expectation in her voice. You couldn’t just pretend that everything was fine.

“Just, give me second. I’m, uh, gonna use the bathroom.”

You clambered out of bed, coated in a cold sheet of sweat, and hopped your way into the bathroom. With the door shut behind you, you grabbed your medication bottle from the cabinet, tossed a tablet on the sink, and turned the faucet on to mask the rest of what happened.

After splashing cold water onto your face, you dried off with one of the hand towels and hobbled back out to the bedroom. By the time you laid back down next to Lena, a warm sedation had washed over your and the feeling of Lena’s arm across your waist added to it.

“You said my name, in your sleep,” Lena stated quietly. You allowed your eyes to shut, but nodded.

“You were there, in the dream. And so was your—“ you corrected yourself before the word mother could slip out, “—was Lillian.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. But, you’re okay. You’re safe, with me.”

“I know,” you assured her. “It’s just…it’s hard not to think about what would happen if she did find us.”

“I understand.”

“I don’t think I’d be able to live if something happened to you, Lena.”

“I know the feeling,” Lena sighed. You could hear the exhaustion in her voice and reminded yourself that she had to be up early.

“We should go back to sleep.”

You pressed closer to her, now incredibly drowsy, and shivered at the touch of her fingertips brushing where your hip stuck out from under your shirt. The images of the nightmare continued to fade as she rubbed a thumb back and forth across the small patch of exposed flesh.

“I love you,” you murmured just before succumbing to sleep again.

“I love you too.”

——————————————————————————

“Hmm,” Lillian grunted as she peered at the spread of photographs on the metal desk in front of her. There were plenty of her daughter outside of her condo complex, but none of the images had caught you. “No sign of the low-life. Those two idiots must have taken quite a toll on her.”

“There’s been quite a lot of progress down in the lab, ma’am. We just need to figure out how to completely restore cognitive function after the personal storage areas of the brain have been over-stimulated.”

“Over-stimulation? I told you I wanted the brain wiped.”

“Ma’am, that’s just not a viable option, even with this technology. Not if the subject is expected to be able to retain artificial memories afterwards.”

“Hmm,” Lillian grunted again. “I expected more of my employees.”

“We’ll keep trying, ma’am,” the senior scientist assures her.

——————————————————————————

You didn’t wake up until almost two in the afternoon. The vivid nightmare had taken a lot out of you and as your eyes opened, you were immediately hit with a headache and pang of hunger in your stomach. After a quick face wash, you brushed your teeth and hesitantly took the orange pill bottle out of the cabinet. It was still over 3/4 of the way full, but you were still uncertain about taking more. You couldn’t afford to do this to yourself, or to Lena. You had watched what painkillers could do. Hell, you had sold them. After deciding you’d rather deal with the pain than the idea of becoming a pill-popper, you put the meds back and hopped out into the main area of the apartment.

In order to quell the burning in your stomach, you grabbed one of Lena’s weird protein shake things out of the fridge and an apple from the bowl on the counter. It was only when you sat down at the kitchen counter that you noticed the iPhone 7 box and the note beside it.

I know you got rid of your old one and perhaps Angry Birds will keep you entertained until I get home.

-Lena

P.S. I put my number and Kara’s into your contacts if you need anything

Wow. Thoughtful as always.

—————————————————————————————-

A week passed. Lena began bringing home extra work from her desk to entertain you while she was gone and you made a trip back to the hospital to get the stitches on your incisions out. The nightmares came just about every night. It became a routine for Lena to wake at least once a night to the feeling of you squirming beside her; distressed by whatever images were flashing behind your closed eyelids. She’d pull you against her and whisper just loud enough to pull you out of your terror, and then peace would return to the bedroom.

And in the morning, you would wake up and snort crushed up oxy off of the sink.

You knew it was wrong. You knew, somewhere in the back of your tangled thoughts that it wouldn’t last forever and it would have consequences. But, in order to sit down and focus on something and pretend that what had happened hadn’t happened, you needed to.

Lena wasn’t oblivious to the change in your disposition. She noticed the way your eyes would slowly find hers and that they didn’t dance around the room as often. The way you’d stare at nothing, apparently lost in your own head. She told herself that you were just processing what had happened and the change in your life. This was an adjustment for you, after all. Living with someone was just something you needed to get used to.

———————————————————————————————————

“Lena?”

Kara landed on her newest friend’s balcony just before Lena was about to shut her computer down and throw the files on her desk back into their respective drawers.

“Kara,” she smiled as she always did when the blonde quite literally dropped by and stood from her chair. “Hi.”

“How’ve you been? Sorry I haven’t been around too much lately. Busy city and all,” Kara apologized and pulled Lena in for their usual embrace. She had come to care a great deal for the Luthor woman in the past few weeks.

“I understand,” Lena assured her. “Things have been…consistent.”

“What does that mean? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. Y/N seems to feel a lot better. I’m not constantly worried about her collapsing anymore—“ Lena bit her bottom lip before continuing, “—but she has been a little…different lately. I think she’s just trying to deal with what happened.”

“How are you dealing with it?”

“I’m fine compared to her,” Lena scoffed. “Kara, she has horrible dreams almost every night. It breaks my heart.”

“Well, that’s understandable. But, are you sure you aren’t taking on too much? With work and her physical recovery and—“

“Kara, I’m fine. She wouldn’t be struggling like this if she hadn’t met me and…you know I love her.”

“I know,” Kara replied and reached out to give Lena’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Let me know if either one of you need anything, alright?”

“Thank you.”

—————————————————————————————————-

Sometime that day, the real guilt hit you. You were in Lena’s home, sleeping next to her in her bed every night, and lying to her every time she came home and you didn’t tell her what was going on.

Around five, you sat down at the kitchen table, still high from your afternoon dose, and spun your prescription bottle around in your hands. The remaining pills rattled around, almost seeming to taunt you, and your good leg shook up and down rapidly under the table. God, Lena was going to be so disgusted with you. To be fair, you were disgusted with yourself.

You sat there, waiting and consumed by the river of anxiety in your system, until the door to the condo opened and Lena’s heels clattered to the hardwood floor as she kicked them off.

“Y/N?”

“In here,” you called. Your stomach was twisting and you sucked in a deep breath to try to quell the nausea. Oh God, what if you had ruined everything?

“Hi,” Lena beamed as she entered the kitchen, noticed your disposition, and paused. “What’s wrong?”

“I need you to sit down and just listen for a second, please.”

“Okay,” Lena took the chair next to you hesitantly and eyed the pills in your hand.

“I…I need you to take these away from me,” you started and slid the orange piece of plastic over to her. “Please don’t hate me, but I’ve been—“ your voice failed you and your pulse started slamming in your ears, “—I’ve been snorting them.”

“What?”

“I know, I know it’s bad. I just…I needed to feel better about everything and I needed you to think that I was okay. Please, please just don’t hate me, Lena. I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Lena stood up from her chair, pocketed the prescription bottle into her blazer, and wrapped her arms around you. “I could never hate you, Y/N. We’ll figure out what you need to get past this together, okay?”

You nodded and let out a shaky breath.

“Just tell me what you need from me, and I’ll help you.”

“I-I don’t know what I need, Lena. I can’t stop thinking about…any of it. And you’ve been so good to me and I just feel so bad for putting you through all of this.”

“Shhh,” Lena shook her head and put a hand on the side of your face so that you’d look at her. It was hard for you to even match her gaze. “Don’t. It’ll be alright, I promise.”

Her face was so close to yours and her voice was so soft, it made you realize how much you missed her intimacy.

“Lena, please kiss me?”

Her lips hadn’t touched yours since before you were taken. She had been afraid to do anything more than hold you at night, mostly worried about hurting or somehow overwhelming you. Lena’s eyes searched your own questioningly.

“Y/N…”

“Please,” you begged. Her thumb moved across your cheek and your breathing quickened when her gaze shifted quickly between your eyes and your mouth. After a brief second of uncertainty, Lena closed the distance between the two of you and pressed her lips against yours.

So, decided to make the relationship a little more honest and deeper. I figured writing Lena trying to help the reader through her mental recovery might be interesting

#lena luthor #lena luthor imagine #lena fic #supergirl #supergirl imagine

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jakehglover · 6 years ago

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The Dorito Effect — The Surprising Truth About Food and Flavor

youtube

By Dr. Mercola

In his book "The Dorito Effect: The Surprising New Truth About Food and Flavor," award-winning journalist and author, Mark Schatzker, investigates the introduction of flavor into the industrialized food supply. An investigative journalist by profession, Schatzker's curiosity about flavor led him to eventually write two books addressing this issue. The first, "Steak: One Man's Search for the World's Tastiest Piece of Beef" was, as the title implies, about steak.

"I got deep into the science of flavor [and] the science of how we perceive flavor. But I also [asked a] question that we rarely ask, which is 'Why does food have flavor?' We think it's all very simple. We take for granted of the fact that apples taste like apples and steak tastes like steak. But then when you start to get inside it, it becomes very interesting," he says.

"I would visit a ranch and there would be a field of pregnant cows and a field of steers. The rancher would say, 'Oh, the pregnant cows are in a field of clover because they need a lot of protein [when] they're pregnant.' Cows don't even know what protein is, so how does a cow know what to eat?

The answer is flavor feedback. They seek out the flavors that bring their bodies what they need. It's something we are certainly very alienated from … We tend to think there's an inverse relationship between health and deliciousness. I set out to do that steak book thinking, 'It might be that the best steak I find is awful for the cow [and] horrible for the planet; it's like a heart attack on a plate.'

What I found, oddly, was that the most delicious steak was the best for the planet, nicest for the cow and the best for me. I thought, 'This is not what I expected. This is not what we were taught to expect. Is there something going on here?' … [I]n nature … delicious flavors guide animals to the foods they need. So, I asked what is a simple question with a very complex answer, which is, 'Does it work that way for humans?'"

The History of the Dorito

The story of the Dorito starts with the late Archibald Clark West, a marketing executive who, in the 1950s, worked on the Jell-O Pudding account. In 1960, the Frito company offered him the position of vice president of sales and marketing. (Shortly thereafter, Frito merged with the Lay's chip company to become Frito-Lay.) A chance stop at a Mexican food shack on the way back home from a visit with Lawrence Frank, the inventor of Lawry's seasoned salt, exposed West to the tortilla chip.

"He thought, 'This is going to be the next big thing for Frito-Lay' … He presented his idea to his fellow executives. They just sort of looked at him like he's a little funny because they thought, 'Why would we want to make tortilla chips when we already make Fritos, which are kind of the same thing? … But West was so confident in his idea that he actually funneled discretionary funds to an off-site facility to develop this concept.

He gave them a name, which, in a very bastardized Spanish, means 'little pieces of gold.' He brought it back to his fellow executives. He passed out samples of tortilla chips and said, 'Gentlemen, I give you Doritos.' I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, 'OK. This is when the world changed. This is where junk food was forever junkier and more addictive.'

But in fact, that's not what happened, because the Doritos that first went to market … were just … salted tortilla chips. People in the Southwest … where there was a Hispanic cultural influence, knew that you could dip them in salsa and so forth. But the rest of the country didn't really get it. The main complaint was that the snack sounds Mexican, [but] it doesn't taste Mexican."

The Dorito Effect

Undeterred, West had another epiphany: "Let's make them taste like taco." Up until that time, foods had their own intrinsic flavors and that was that. If you wanted the taste of raspberry or pineapple, you had to use real raspberries and real pineapple. But some speculate that West's friendship with Lawrence Frank (the inventor of Lawry's seasoned salt) gave him the insight that you could alter flavors through the use of chemicals.

"You could make whatever you wanted taste like whatever you wanted it to taste like. You could literally buy flavored chemicals and put a dusting on a triangular piece of fried cornmeal and, voila! It wouldn't taste exactly like a taco, but it would have that depth, that tang, that zest. Frito-Lay then brought out taco-flavored Doritos, and that changed everything.

Let's think about that for a second. We're talking about a high-fat, high-carb, high-salt snack that America basically wasn't interested in. With the addition of flavored chemicals, it turned into a snack people could not stop eating. Let's also think about this: Prior to taco-flavored Doritos, when people ate tortilla chips, they would dip them in things that are good for you, things like a bean dip or salsa made with tomatoes, made with hot peppers.

Now you didn't need that. Now you could just dust on the flavorings and they tasted good on their own. This, to me, is a very important moment in the history of our food culture, because it's when we mastered flavor. Up until that point, roughly speaking, flavor had been the domain of Mother Nature. Now, it was up to, literally, the folks who worked in marketing."

Artificial Flavor Technology Allowed for Massive Deterioration of Natural Food Quality

This flavor technology is ultimately what allowed for the radical deterioration of food quality, as you not only can easily mask the flavor of inferior quality ingredients, but impose a flavor that has no business being there — making foods taste like something that they are not, and literally imbue nutritionally empty foods with the "sheen" of nutrition.

This is important for processed foods manufacturers because, as modern agricultural methods have taken a toll on soil health, food has gotten increasingly bland, as the natural flavor and aroma of food is actually tied to its nutrient content. In other words, flavor is a marker for the nutritional density of the food.

Using flavored chemicals, you can now produce food that has virtually no nutritional value, or even negative nutritional value, yet the great taste and aroma fool consumers into thinking they're eating something wholesome. As noted by Schatzker:

"There's been a change in quality. When old-timers complain that food doesn't taste like it used to, it's not because they're [remembering] the past through rose-tinted lenses, it's because food really doesn't taste the way it used to. We have this ongoing debate in our culture about the importance of eating right. We tell people you need to eat more fruits and vegetables, you need to eat more whole foods, but what have we done?

We've made those whole foods blander, less delicious than ever, and we've made the processed foods more delicious than ever. This book is an attempt to understand what's gone wrong with food through the lens of flavor. We think we understand carbs and protein and vitamins, but what we all seek in every meal is flavor, and there's been a huge change in the way food tastes."

The Evolutionary Imperative of Taste and Smell

We think we experience the aroma of food when we smell it, but it's actually a bit more complex than that. When you bite into the food, the aroma goes into the back of your throat and through a small hole up into your nose. This is called retronasal olfaction, and is actually a more powerful form of smelling than normal smelling. This is what allows you to experience the richness and nuance of food.

Brain scans reveal the experience of flavor takes up more gray matter than any other sensory experience. Additionally, the largest portion of the human genome involves the creation of your nose. So, from an evolutionary perspective, this chemical-sensing ability appears to be particularly important.

Experiments by Utah State University scientist Fred Provenza proved that animals use flavors to obtain required nutrients, and it appears the same applies to humans, and that this is why this incredible chemical-sensing apparatus exists.

"For millions of years, it worked perfectly. It helped us balance our nutrition so that we could find the foods we need, get what we needed and not eat to excess," Schatzker says. "That all changed in the mid-1950s. The first gas chromatograph went on sale. What's important to remember is that before that, scientists had absolutely no idea where flavor came from. They knew a lot at this point about things like the macronutrients, protein, carbs and fat.

They knew a lot about vitamins. But flavor was a mystery, [in large part because] flavors exist in such minute amounts — we're talking parts per million, parts per billion … With the gas chromatograph, you could take a piece of food and literally turn it into a gas. You volatize it and send the gas through this big coil. The coil separates every compound out.

Out the other end comes each flavor chemical, and then they would analyze it. It didn't take long for them to analyze the flavors in things like fried chicken, tacos, tomatoes or cherries. Then they started making [the flavors] in flavor factories. They started putting them in foods … Junk food is high-calorie, nutritionally empty food, that is true. But here's the thing; we wouldn't eat that stuff if not for the flavor. That's what was added to make it irresistible."

The 'Natural Flavors' Scam

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As the Center for Public Integrity points out, industries can basically decide for themselves what is safe for you to eat. Of the 10,000 food additives on the market, 95 to 99 percent have never been tested for safety when consumed in isolation, let alone been tested for synergistic toxicity that can occur when you combine several of them together. People have gotten savvier about this in recent years, and many are now trying to avoid artificial flavors and colors. Yet the food industry is still tricking most of us.

If you read food labels, you've likely seen the inclusion of "natural flavors." If this has led you to believe they were different from and healthier than artificial flavors, you've been soundly deceived. Originally, "natural flavors" referred to things like spices and spice extracts — flavors obtained through natural means. This changed when consumers began rejecting foods containing "artificial flavors." Schatzker explains:

"When consumers started getting frightened by the word 'artificial,' the flavor companies began to make the very same flavored chemicals using natural means … It's the same flavored chemicals, made through fermentation or evaporation, for example, and not through more chemically complex ways. The bottom line is, it's the same stuff … There is nothing more wholesome or more natural about these so-called 'natural' flavorings.

In fact, you could argue the artificial ones are better because they're purer. When they make these natural flavorings, they don't have full control over what they're getting in. They take these chemical extracts and they don't know exactly what's in there. The problem is you have mothers looking at things like yogurt tubes and granola bars; they see this word 'natural flavoring' or they see 'no artificial coloring or flavoring,' and they're being totally hoodwinked."

How Artificially Flavored Foods Are Driving the Obesity Epidemic

Most people eat too much these days, and more than two-thirds of Americans are either overweight or obese as a result. Processed, artificially flavored foods have a lot to do with this, as these chemicals make you eat food you normally would not want to eat, and eat more than you normally would. Remarkably, even whole foods like chicken and pork are now getting flavor enhancements, as the real thing has gotten so bland.

Again, this loss of flavor is a direct result of the way the animals are being raised. "We raise our livestock so quickly and so cheaply that it tastes like cardboard," Schatzker says. "So, it's not just Doritos and soda. It's everything. We might think we're making a healthy choice but, really, we're being fooled in the same way."

On a side note, there are even flavorings in cigarettes, and the reason they're there is because it would make teenagers like them more. "That's a testament to its effectiveness — getting consumers to do things they wouldn't ordinarily be inclined to do," he says.

Breeding Flavor Back Into Food

Unfortunately, while the junk food industry has top-notch flavor experts working for them, many fruit and vegetable producers fail to give any attention to flavor at all. Not only is this hurting the sales of whole foods, but more importantly, as mentioned earlier, flavor is a marker of nutritional density. While poor soil quality plays a significant role, plant breeding has also contributed to the blandness of many foods.

Take the tomato for example. Many older people will tell you today's tomatoes taste nothing like they used to. Schatzker spent time interviewing Harry Klee, Ph.D., a horticultural science professor at the University of Florida, who since the early 1990s has been trying to crack the mystery of what happened to tomatoes.

"The truth is we've genetically damaged tomatoes," Schatzker says. "They have literally forgotten how to be flavorful, because for so many years, we've been breeding tomatoes to produce a big crop, to have a long shelf-life, to be disease-resistant. It's amazing how much more productive tomato plants are than they were, say, 100 years ago. They're more than 10 times as productive. But we've paid for it in flavor … [I]f you don't select flavor, you lose flavor …

Knowing what we've done means we can take steps to undo the damage ... [Klee] found is that there are about 26 flavor compounds in tomatoes that really drive the experience of liking them … So, he thought, 'If I can figure out how the tomato makes each one of those, I can target it and I can breed for it. By ordinary, classic breeding, I can target those flavor pathways.'

What he found is that each of those 26 flavors is synthesized from an essential nutrient. This basically means that the flavor of a tomato is like a big chemical sign telling your brain there's good stuff in here. This is why we have noses. This is why we have this chemical sensing apparatus, because it leads us to the nutrients we need.

When you start to fix the flavor problem in the tomato, you improve the nutrition and you improve the chemical representation of that tomato, so that when you bite into it you go, 'Yes. That's a great tomato' … Klee has created a modern tomato that has the flavor of an heirloom, but it still has the yield and the disease resistance. It's not GMO. It's just a classically bred tomato. It really is the best of both worlds …

It works so beautifully in whole foods. But when you create a tomato flavoring in a factory and you put it on a potato chip or you put it in a sugary tomato sauce, you're creating this experience of tomato, but you're not delivering the nutrition. That, I think, is a really elegant illustration of just how things have gone off the rails."

You Can Trust Your Intuition When Eating Real Food

Your body was designed to identify the best foods for you in any given moment. The call of certain foods is really difficult to ignore. However, problems arise when your body is being tricked into craving foods that don't contain the nutrients promised by their smell and taste. The system does work, however, if you eat real food.

"My advice to people is to eat the most delicious food you can, but buy real foods," Schatzker says. "Don't be frightened of calories. Don't be frightened of food … The other thing I'd like to tell people is be aware of your own eating experience … I think there are two different kinds of delicious.

There's a delicious where you can't stop eating. This is what happens to me with flavored potato chips or Doritos. You have one and you just can't resist putting your hand back in the bag … These are experiences to be avoided …

Then there are other foods — dark chocolate is a great example; a great tomato is a really good example — where the point isn't to stuff as much into your mouth as fast as you can. The point is to sit in a kind of deep contemplation of this incredible flavor experience. That, to me, is a better kind of food experience to have. I don't think it's one that you need to be afraid of. I think it's one that will give back.

Also, be aware of how you feel after a meal. Try to integrate that into your perception of food. I've eaten some pretty low-end fried chicken that had that manic I-can't-stop-eating [sensation], and an hour later I felt dreadful. If you can remember that feeling, it makes you less inclined to go after that [unhealthy food] again in the future."

As discussed in many other articles, fruits and vegetables grown in healthy soils without toxic chemicals are a flavor sensation that is hard to beat. It certainly cannot be replicated with chemicals. Fortunately, Schatzker assures us horticultural scientists are now working on breeding flavor — and hence nutrients — back into a several foods, including strawberries and sweet corn.

While it may take time, there's certainly hope for the future. We just have to keep our eye on the goal, which is to bring real food back into the lives of everyone. To learn more about the impact food additives have on our food selections and health, be sure to pick up a copy of Schatzker's book, "The Dorito Effect: The Surprising New Truth About Food and Flavor."

from HealthyLife via Jake Glover on Inoreader https://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2018/06/03/truth-about-food-and-flavor.aspx

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back-alley-magic · 7 years ago

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The Renegade

Powers: Not much is known about him. He's mostly regarded as irresponsible, selfish, and unprincipled, a young hedge witch with wasted talent. If the rumors are true, he has a pair of Seven League Boots, a silver chain inscribed with gold and ash, and a knife carved of ivory. Those who know him say he is rather talented with blood magic, but practices a variety of highly symbolic magics (with varying degrees of success). These symbolic magics require substitution of items with those that are logically or emotionally connected to another object, such as lighting a log on fire by holding a piece of coal. This takes a strong physical toll the larger the logical leap.

He was the one to introduce the New Initiate to the world of magic, though he is afraid of getting them involved now that he is being hunted for The Stone.

Faction: Hedge Witches

FC: Dane Dehaan

Name: Lysander Crane (true name unknown)

Any other titles, nicknames, or epithets: The Thaumaturge, though no one actually calls him that. More often he's called Prick, ***hole, or some other choice four letter words. And now, he's The Keeper of the Stone, or simply the Keeper.

Age: 24

Personality:

+creative

+moral...ish, at least in principle. In practice he is more than willing to bend and break rules for what he views as the right cause. And yes, his own benefit does count as a "right cause."

+thinks better on his feet. If he's given too much time to plan he begins to second-guess and overthink

+intelligent, though he tends not to apply himself

+surprisingly disciplined about learning new things when he really cares about them.

+surprisingly accepting of others' flaws

+logical, though this logic is internal and can seem erratic to others

+/-dramatic

+/-headstrong

+/-dark sense of humor

+/-blunt when he shouldn't be and cryptic when it's very inconvenient

+/-obsessive over small tidbits of information and completely oblivious to other (usually more important) facts

+/sarcastic

+/-self-indulgent

+/independent

+/-thrill seeker

+/-provocative

-pretentious

-disloyal

-cynical

-addictive personality

-aimless

-easily bored, and often turns to dangerous distractions

-selfish

-flippant

-chaotic

-self-destructive

-can be childishly spiteful, the "I'll hold my breath until I pass out, that'll show you" kind of vindictiveness

-irresponsible

Powers, weapons, and skills:

highly symbolic magic. His catch-all conduit is blood, for the sheer power it provides. But he tends to mix this raw energy with more targeted magic. His workings are usually very complex (some would say purely convoluted) and highly dramatic. Mostly it seems he wants to impress himself with crackpot, improbable, but often strangely beautiful magic when a simpler but humbler thing would do the trick.

Since magic draws on connections and symbols it helps to have a powerful internal logic. He's good at quick-thinking and rushed spells, whereas most witches fall back on prior planning to ensure success. This makes his magic seem very fluid and organic, but also unpredictable.

His magic deals mostly with change, usually in objects, and perception. He calls it his magical word games. In reality it's connecting a current reality with a desired outcome by making a series of logical leaps, folding and shifting reality until it meets that outcome, like magical origami. This magic is extremely energy-consuming so in his day-to-day magical life he usually uses a few pre-made magical objects.

These pre-made magical items include a very worn pair of leather boots which, thanks to the sigils on their soles, allows him to move at incredible speeds. These seven league boots don't come without their dangers though. Operating them isn't as easy as simply walking. Without a careful input of energy proportional to the speed and distance you'd like to travel, you could end up literally walking your soul faster than your body.

Lysander also has a knife carved from mammoth ivory which he uses for his blood magic. He found it deep in one of the underground tunnels, buried in a forgotten barrow. He may not know it yet, but it was buried for a reason, and the more he uses it, the more strange coincidences start happening around it. It does help focus his magic though, so he'll keep using it despite the random occurrences that spark around it.

He also has a silver chain inscribed with gold and ash. As yet, he hasn't figured out what it does. But that won't stop him from wearing it. In the very least, the silver gives him some modicum of protection against fae.

Weaknesses:

Not very good at explaining himself. He prides himself on that fact, but it can be a big weakness when trying to work with others

extremely self-destructive, addictive, thrill-seeking behavior.

Hell-bent on doing things his way or not at all

Puts more raw energy into magic than is necessary. He's generally regarded (among those who know him in the magical community) as a waste of talent. Everyone assumes he'll burn himself out before he does anything worthwhile, and it seems he's determined to show just how quickly he can prove them right.

Gets bogged down with his own logic and the theoretical side of his actions when given time to plan. When he's working on the fly things come easier to him because he doesn't have time to overthink

Generally comes off as a rude, pretentious little s*** who cares only about himself and is hell to work with

Likes:

puzzles and logic problems

the sound of bells and tinkling jewelry (he wears a lot of bracelets and charms, only some of which are magical)

beautiful solutions (though not necessarily simple ones)

neon lights

deep pounding music

maybe experiments with hallucinogenic compounds more than he should

new experiences

staying one step ahead

confusing others

letting others know he knows they're confused

other curious individuals

taking notes on random scraps of paper

experimenting with....everything

frustrating authority figures

surprising turns of events

heights

theoretical mathematics

making then breaking things then making them into something new (with mixed results)

Morrow (especially the twisting maze-like streets and the underground tunnels)

the more theoretical side of magic (he isn't here for practical magic)

getting swept up in a moment

Dislikes:

not good at making sure he eats regularly and doesn't really care about food (he smokes more than he eats and jokes that he has a liquid diet consisting mostly of vodka)

coming down from a high (whether emotional or otherwise)

that look of disappointment in authority figures' eyes (he reflexively fights back with biting sarcasm and even more outlandish behavior)

his family

stifling regulation, especially from the witches proper, who he thinks act superior to hedge witches without good cause. He sees them as one-trick ponies who have closed themselves off to some of the most beautiful (though maybe more unorthodox) forms of magic

people trying to organize his things (it's a physical representation of his thought process and isn't very linear. But he knows exactly where everything is in the chaos, he swears)

the finer points of emotional interactions with people (he tends to interact with others in over-the-top, off-puttingly extreme shows of emotion or no emotion at all. Complex nuances of relationships are beyond his logic, and therefore very tough for him to understand)

people who refuse to innovate and experiment

water and swimming, he's terribly afraid of drowning

boredom

Short bio: As with all those who sink into the murky waters of hedge magic, Lysander gave up his old life and drowned the boy he was. It seemed an easy price to pay for the ability to grab the fabric of reality and tear it to shreds, and oddly satisfying to murder everything his family made him. Who he was before is shrouded in mystery. But a few close to him (and that is a very, very few) know he studied theoretical mathematics somewhere before finding his way to Morrow. Even those who haven't heard his fragmented, sparse telling of his past can recognize the pedantic, vaguely disdainful drawl of an academic when he discusses his craft. His horrible, gaudy tastes also hint at squandered wealth. It takes good money to look that cheap. The flippant disregard for the finer points of surviving (like the necessity of a job or even the basics of housekeeping) also hints at an upbringing as another spoiled, pampered child hell-bent on a downward spiral. No, that past is nothing but a murky shadow, his true name nothing more than an echo. He was truly born, as he'll tell you on a good day or from the bottom of a bottle (which, all in all are often the same), in a dark alley in the warehouse district, blood dripping from his chin and fury burning in his throat. His blood hit the cracked pavement of Morrow and, whether he knew it or not, it was his first offering. The ley lines of Morrow focused all his anger, all his pain, and left nothing but two vaguely-human singe marks on the alley walls. A better man would have been horrified, running far away from that power. And a lesser man would have been devoured by it. But Lysander is none of those, lost maybe, unprincipled sure, unfocused definitely. But he is no hero, and he is no villain. It's true, he hasn't killed since. But most agree using reality-shattering magic fed from your own life-blood to perform petty party tricks is not the most responsible path. But Lysander doesn't care. What matters is learning, knowing, searching. And it appears that searching has provided more questions than answers.

Life in Morrow: Those familiar with the party scene in Morrow have probably seen Lysander. He appears to be nocturnal, though that may just be a product of nights that leave him in hungover stupors more often than not. He isn't exactly a "productive member of society," spending most daylight hours holed up in his grimy apartment/laboratory (which in all reality is an abandoned warehouse full of mismatch furniture, dirty beakers full of who-knows-what, an entire wall covered in chalk markings, and haphazard stacks of books) fiddling with his powers. Every so often a question catches hold of him and he can be found rummaging through the university library. No one knows how exactly he gets in. Maybe he knows someone, or maybe he just jimmies the fire escape lock. In any case, his daylight appearances are few and far between. Most of his time not spent downing whatever alcohol he can get his hands on or trying to break the laws of physics is spent exploring the subways, sewers, and tunnels under Morrow's streets. His apartment has a small cellar with a few precious treasures and a staircase that descends down into the veins of the city. While he prefers to explore alone, he has been known to venture out with a few trusted acquaintances on occasion. No one really knows how Lysander survives. He doesn't seem to take in any money, though perhaps he has no need for it. He doesn't even have a kitchen, and most of his food comes from the few friends he has leaving leftover Chinese or a few cold slices of pizza on his desk. In all, it's a rather lonely existence, surrounded and consumed by his studies and drowning in his vices. While he doesn't go out in search of company, he doesn't turn it away when it finds its way to his doorstep, often desperate, frightened, and in need of help. It takes a /very/ peculiar sort of desperation to rely on Lysnder Crane for help, but surprisingly enough, he never refuses.

Why do they want the Stone? Right now he's doing his best not to get murdered in an alley for it. He's also trying to figure out how to get it to work (equally, if not more dangerous). In the long-run, many people are worried he'll use it for his own magic. Anyte Vale is the only one who believes he actually knows what he's doing with it.

Greatest wish? To make something truly beautiful.

Greatest fear? Losing his magic. Life was boring and pointless before, and now it's the only thing that makes sense. Also, that feeling of power is hella addictive.

What 5 items would you put in a pentagram to summon them? a bottle of cheap vodka, a pair of expensive leather shoes, a half-empty pack of cigarettes, chalk, a broken shot glass (the two biggest things to know about Lysander: he's always wasted, and always dramatic)

#lysander #info #cast of characters

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