#if i had more commitment to the bit and a pound of cocaine i would make this for real

[themetalvirus]

egghog sonic world is mine amv

you were listening to world is mine and imagining an egghog sonic amv to it werent you squidward

[barnacles34]

Mr. Rager, Can I Tag Along?

Part I

Synopsis: Mr. Rager finally joins the birds in the skies. Dedicated to the song Mr. Rager by Kid Cudi.

tags: 8k, smut, so much romance, fluff, addiction, recovery, virgin Ryujin

Ryujin x Male OC

CHAPTER I: 

You might hear the birds singing flying around,

You never see them too long on the ground,

You wanna be one of them, yeah.

Cocaine toxicity. Solipsism finally vindicated. He was going to die—truly. That cloudy feeling of mind and body separation, as if the ribbons of heaven had finally let him grasp their reins, swaying him toward some version of forever happiness.

Mmmm.

He thought he’d care about dying right there in the nightclub. The shame of weakness, of collapsing with foam at the corners of his mouth—he’d truly thought he’d care more about it. But now, one worry gone, he was worriless. Life had its charm, but it wasn’t for him; he’d been walking on sticks until the very end. Now, the floor felt so right. His body sank into it, slipping slowly, as if turning to slime and merging back into the earth.

Each second, his grip over his fingers weakened, a constant slackening with every passing moment. His eyelids grew heavy, and the outline of the nightclub around him blurred. He couldn’t control his fingers anymore; he was truly sinking. When would heaven begin? When would this fantasy end? Mind-death, a complete and utter submission to the lifeless realm - he’d never recover.

The faint tingling of powder lingered at the rim of his nostrils. At least, he’d had a good high - a nice ecstasy haze along the fine columbian - before dying. Finally, his eyes closed, nerves shutting down, and he felt free, unchained from his body like a ghost.

"Stay with me!" A voice, deep and feminine.

Hm?

"Don’t close your eyes!" Again, that voice.

What?

Whatever. It was too late anyway.

"How many fingers am I holding up!?" Still images flashed through his fading consciousness, fingers held up just before his face, barely visible, though he couldn’t tell how many anyway.

"What’s your name?" He couldn't place a face on the voice, but it was distinctly feminine - separate from his inner voices.

They were trying so hard. If they’d responded any faster, he might’ve been forced to go back - to life.

Go back…

Did he want to go back?

Hell.

Mr. Rager - that’d be a good name, he thought. If he were reborn, given another chance, that’s who he’d be.

"Mr. Rager!"

What? Could the paramedic hear him?

"Mr. Rager! Come back! Fight back! Don’t go off on an adventure!"

—

Flash. Eyes open. He was alive - he was… alive.

"Mr. Rager. You’re okay; don’t make any sudden movements." A soft, padded palm rubbed his forehead with a gentle, compassionate touch. He looked up. A young woman, petite yet strikingly beautiful, looked back at him.

"What’s your name?" he asked, despite himself. Still a bachelor, after all. "My name is Ryujin." She was dressed in a way he couldn’t quite place, something different from what he expected. "I’m part-time, by the way," she said, noticing his confused look. "That’s why my clothes are different." He rubbed his forehead; it was pounding, but with a distant sort of ache, incongruous with a proper headache. “What the hell happened?” he asked, properly confused. “You went into shock, someone already administered naloxone to your body, thankfully; otherwise, you would’ve-” she abruptly bit her tongue, preventing herself from talking about a potentially sensitive topic that Mr. Rager was subjected to.

“And, by the way, this was my first call ever.” A subtle transition, a conversation starter.

He blinks, trying to relieve the soreness in his eyes, “God, I’m sorry, this is such a fucking shitty situation.” And the way he said it, that emotional self-deprecation.

She might’ve realized something, “Were you trying to commit suicide?” She asked, very bluntly.

“It’s none of your business. Thank you for the hospitality, I’ll be taking my leave now.” When he tried to take the IV fastened to his vein, Ryujin softly, with the firmest grip and tone, said, “You’re going nowhere.”

All Mr. Rager could think of were cuss words, cusses against the world, against destiny to be alive for the foreseeable future. 

A resolve to suicide is the moment the mind, at the cusp of mind-death, truly enters a dead mind. The inescapable rock-bottom, a self-fulfilling prophecy where one feels truly and utterly fastened to the floor - inhibited of all its freedoms, its happiness.

–

Mr. Rager, or better known as Min amongst his peers - not friends. At the hands of his peers, Mr. Rager sustained a traumatic head injury that tormented him with chronic migraines right from the start of it all - the drunk brawl, that he decisively lost in, at just the age of 17. 

See, Mr. Rager had not a single family member except his aunt who embezzled all the funds Rager’s parents left for him. And the last time he tried to talk with his aunt was when he sustained a knife wound on his forearm from her - a deeply tormented individual, she was locked in a home-made cage for most of her adolescence.

And, unfortunately, there’s not a single time where his life is measurably better than the year before - only getting worse until the overdose.

–

Ryujin didn’t inquire further, she was hoping somewhat that her presence might help Mr. Rager. She sat next to Mr. Rager, her hand still on the side of the hospital bed, feeling its soft fabric. Mr. Rager, still irritated, asked, “Why are you still here?”

“Cause I want to be here.” A joking undertone, perfectly acted out. In truth, Ryujin pitied him so much, her first patient, a successful businessman who tried to kill himself at the age of 29 - now that’s fucking rare, usually the cases accelerate at the age  of 50 or so.

“Why’d you take this job?” 

She replied, “Artistic inspiration.”

“Hm, fantastic idea by the way.” He was sincere about it.

“Thanks.”

“Do you have enough material now?”

“Oh. Plenty. Plenty enough.” She giggled.

“What if I don’t consent to my likeness being represented in your art - medium, whatever?”

“Mr. Rager, don’t you worry, I’ll refurbish it so much that it'll be closer to the likeness of… let’s say… me.”

“Quit the teasing,” he stated, straight to the point.

“I don’t want to.” She replied back, he was one of the few people where teasing seemed to genuinely improve their immediate well-being, and for someone like Mr. Rager - it’s huge. And, he was finally laying, no longer trying to plan an escape, on the flatbed, staring at the ceiling, observing the music player. “By the way, is this music player provided to everyone recovering?” He’s not one to mix words.

“You’re pretty smart.” She replies, a confirmation, fiddling with her torn skirt, presumably from rushing into her para-medic role.

“That’s what I owe you for?”

“Mhm.” Still fiddling, a pouty sort of face formed on her face, it was her favorite skirt.

“How do you want the debt paid?” He inquired, he’s one to never ignore the nascent attachment to his favorite items - thus, he understands: the exorbitant value placed on favoritisms. “I dunno. You’ll still owe me. Big Time.” She stared back, this time, their eyes entwined with a sort of friendliness that is almost, just almost, ethically wrong in hospital circumstances.

“Very well then.” His tired eyes kept pulling on his eyelids. Genuine sleep had seemed to completely take over his body, and yeah, that’s all the meds he’s under: naloxone, antibiotics, withdrawal medicine, and a lovely dose of morphine. “I feel new.” His voice was dozing as his intra-reflection began. As he nodded off, he felt the faint grasp of her hand, so small, yet filled with so much conviction. He’s tripping balls, but she’ll never tell him - presence was what was required of her.

And that was all the validation he needed: for sleep.

As Mr. Rager finally slept; Ryujin stayed for a bit, or about 4 hours. And, still, she’s sitting beside him - making sure that he sleeps and recovers. Just from the chance encounter of a paramedic call, she felt the compulsion to guard Mr. Rager. Poor girl, if she’d seen a dead body for her first call then she’d vomit a week’s worth onto the ground. 

After another hour, Ryujin finally decided it was time to leave. She wrote a thoughtful letter, of things that needn’t be said - obviously. But she also left a partition, finagling a creative way to demand what she’s owed. After, she let her boss know that she quit on the spot, that she’d also come back to the same room - a reservation of some sort. She left, leaving the stale, minty air of the hospital with a melancholy that wouldn’t be fixed until she saw him again. Because, when she was writing the note, she wished she asked more questions - Mr. Rager just seemed to lead on the conversation to a charming degree, that other circumstances were of lesser importance. 

Ryujin, outside, breathing in the fresh air of the summer, caught the last bus of the route. This route, passing by the road that she was taken on inside the paramedic van, also led to her apartment. Unfortunately, it’s an old, decrepit apartment where only the rudest sort of parties happen. Half the time, the floor above is vibrating thump, thump, thump from the heavy jumps, or the lower floor blasts some of the most needlessly, eardrum-breaking music.

At least she has solitude. Finally free from the dictates of those she didn’t get along with, finally separated from her friends who’d get too boring if she hung along for too long. Now, her family is charming - easy to get along with; now, her friends are always interesting - fascinating to be around. Distance is a marinating technique, or whatever.

Ryujin, the charming shut-in, finally arrived at her place, and began on her art piece. Unfortunately, there’s nothing to list that’s positive about her obsession with art. It’s the time where she vents her frustrations of being a failed trainee - rather, a placement that was restricted from becoming an idol; wallows in the misery of the color tone she loves the most: dark; and, to top it off, she gets bored of visual arts when she tries to make money off of it. Some dastardly sign from the man above, “Your hobby will stay a hobby.”

All that displeasure would be the paint upon the canvas: checkmate, mental turmoil turns to art, she thought. Swipe and swipe, the dirty colored watercolor painting had nearly no form worth thinking - almost entirely brown from the intermixing of the wet, damp color. Then the second layer, an apparition of segmentation, a deeper color, colors that entice and bite back. Then the specificity of the lines, things left unspecified were on purpose. But, this recurring thought, this pounding idea, that she left a man that fell in the depths of the void alone - really began digging into her soul. This thought unto Ad Nauseam brought her nausea that really can’t be eliminated with the will of her conscience. “I should’ve stayed, I should’ve stayed” - the recurrent thoughts that never seemed to leave her. With a sad howl, she fell to the side, crying deep, ruining all her pretty into the sheets - a room so small that her chair was the bed.

–

“I’m still alive”, Mr. Rager repeated this to himself over and over after waking up - not sure whether to feel some sort of rendered triumph. For a moment, he was truly tip-toed in the void, almost encased into the endless hope, of unrendered reality and a horrible sadness; now, he’s alive, breathing, with a full control of his body.

Nothing had caught his attention, the environment, whether there were people around him or not, only life as he knew it - coursing through his veins. The feeble thumps of his chest - his heart, still persevering.

–

Several days of this sort of morning locomotion went on, it was also the time that Ryujin came over. Poor girl brought over new confectionaries - mostly of her favorites; brought lunch boxes she herself fully funded; found ways to amuse herself and Mr. Rager during the listless hours.

“What’s the interest rate of this debt? Surely, a person like me, fastened to the bed with belts (a pure exaggeration), wouldn’t be extorted with dubious rates?”

“Mr. Rager, you’ll have to declare bankruptcy by the end of it, seriously. You owe me. Big time.” She joked back, of course, she didn’t really expect much. By her own goodwill, Ryujin was looking after Mr. Rager, an exchange of her goodwill would almost sour all her community service - again, a flash of her trait, a blithely weak trait in modern society, a subtle revulsion to being paid for her services.

Mr. Rager, however, was the opposite. Rogue-man, Rager man, Mr. Rager, a name that fits him so closely, from the early onset of consciousness, an unruly rebelliousness coursing through his veins at all times, with flourish - with the crimonest red. He’s done it all, disowning his billionaire politician parents, who still relish the thought of meeting Mr. Rager one day; losing all his wealth, gaining it back the next; then, enjoying it all on a single roulette wheel, then forgiving the casino when they couldn’t pay his winnings; and then dying for a few seconds, under the angelic influence of the so-called hellish “nose candy”. But for his closure, his preference—he’s pastless, futureless.

That’s the dilemma, Ryujin hadn’t learned a single thing about Mr. Rager that was worth pulling a strand on. Contradictory statements only confounded her further, and a reply to her joke - of bankruptcy and debt - he’d say, “I’d have to find it buried somewhere.” And she’d think, “What? What the hell? What’s buried? What’s ‘it’ ?”

Often the thought was interrupted, never fully leaving its conception—Mr. Rager wanted to keep it that way. Ryujin, often on her phone, never leaving her eyes off Mr. Rager, spent her delicate hours in the breezy, spacious hospital room.

Mr. Rager, of course alarmed, would ask - every day - “why do you visit so often?”

Then, Ryujin, really not knowing an answer, would default to a bland answer of so and so - real political talk. This procession, of nothing happening, stretching on for days was repetitive. It also made them happy. She’d put on her makeup, with her artsy hands - quick and fast. The rapidity with which she approached this situation, so contrary to all the aspects of her life - seemingly, Mr. Rager had brought vitality to Ryujin.

And in comes the day of withdrawal, the hospital withdrawal - where Ryujin and Mr. Rager resided comfortably. The door clicked softly as the nurse entered; simultaneously, Ryujin and Mr. Rager’s hairs stood up - what are they alarmed for? It was not, the nurse, no, absolutely not, the nurse was jovial, happy, thinking that she was delivering happy news.

She didn’t know that both of them found their only sources of joy inside this hospital. The nurse thought that she was relieving them of a most ludicrous bill, by ending it as soon as possible - as this hospital in particular, charges in hours, yeah, real dystopian shit. And so, it was a surprise when both the people had an almost disdainful stare towards her - it’s just my imagination, the nurse thought.

–

“Are you sure? You know overdraft schedules cost significantly more?” The nurse asked, confused, concerned.

“Yeah, yeah, I just want to stay here for one more day.” Mr. Rager replied.

“But, but - do you have any ailment? That’ll bring down the price.” 

“None at all, I just want to stay here for another day more.”

Rich people are nuts, the nurse, still, complied, letting him stay, leaving him for another day.

–

As the day progressed, Ryujin came back, again, in the evening. “Your schedule, how do you do that?” Mr. Rager was genuinely impressed with how Ryujin utilized her time, imagine his surprise when she just says, “I just skipped some stuff.”

“Alright, well, thanks for coming.” And that got Ryujin thinking, was this his first time thanking me? Which, in fact, did make her day. And, she wouldn’t dare challenge this once in a lifetime behavior - that’d be a quick way for that behavior to be stashed away, forever. Again, as soon as she entered, the atmosphere changed. 

It’s about damn time they understand the euphoric peacefulness they rouse for each other. And, today was one of the moments where Mr. Rager gives a slight glimpse of his life - the confounding ones that really led to nowhere. “I think my aversion to alcohol comes from the fact that I had kids with this chick, married this chick, bought a mansion for us to live in - and, only too late, realized that it was really the alcohol that talked.”

Ryujin’s heart sank, “what? You have kids?”

“Not anymore, don’t have custody over them anymore.” He was so unbothered, utterly unbothered.

“I’m sorry for asking, just curious—what happened to them?”

He chuckled, “No more personal questions after this, alright?”

She nodded, her beady eyes on full alert. The pillow that she borrowed from the hospital bed, on her lap. She was intently listening from the comfortable armchair. 

“I let her take the kids, she didn’t ask for alimony or anything like that—just that, on the condition that I don’t contact them ever again.” He stared at the ceiling, sorting some of it out, not sure if it was some traumatic experience. Nevertheless, he continued, “she found me unbearable after a while, and I found her unbearable as well. I was never there too: too busy with money. She probably didn’t chase after alimony because she already had a sweetheart - with money - to get back to.” With so much ease, as if he’d been through too many lifetimes - too many he can remember.

“Oh,” that’s it, that’s all the reaction she can give.

“Oh, what’s with that reaction?” He chuckled.

“I-I’msorryIdon’treallyknow-” she paused, “Hey! You’re being so annoying today.”

“Sometimes, a flipped script - like teaser gets teased - leads to masterpieces.”

“Any examples?”

“Nah, I just made it up.”

From then on, the conversations continued; the deep introspective pauses continued, listlessly; and both began to feel the drowsy effect of the combination of warm light and black-out curtains.

And a tired Mr. Rager loves beauty. 

“Ryujin.”

“Hm?” She looked back, staring at him with her doe eyes.

“You’re like marijuana.” One can say he has a way with words.

“What?” Her brows stitched in confusion.

“You’re fucking amazing to have around. But, I swore to never, nev-” He fell into a deep sleep, so contrary to his habits: he’s never fallen asleep with his own mind’s permission.

Her doe-like eyes opened farther open. Her heart began beating listlessly, skipping beats. I’ve got to leave, before I-. Yet she magneted closer to the bed, where Mr. Rager slept so peacefully. Did I do that? He’s always complaining about sleeping, yet- yet he slept so easily. She was making up all sorts of situations, scenarios, theories - none of them healthy for the mind.

And, before she knew it, under the bright moonlight radiating into the room, gentle shadows across his face, she leaned closer, letting her soft lips touch the peak of his cheekbone, causing shivers across her spine, and she thought fuck, fuck, I’m really doing it - and when that wasn’t enough - then his forehead, feeling the warmth radiating from his forehead on her lips. But no more, that’d be too much, too much.

Under her own shame, her bright flush cheeks, her dilated pupils, twin pools of dark moons: she quickly left the room, carrying all her stuff such that it’d be guaranteed to fall in the middle of the hallway, a real mess she made of herself.

CHAPTER II: 

Keep movin' forward, keep movin' forward

I'm so-I'm so reborn, I'm movin' forward

Along the way home, the realization washed over her like a molotov flame - its gentle but fiery shimmer covering the entirety of her body. And the way her heart pumped, any performative act she could do to stop it was useless - ultimately doing nothing, nada, zilch. The sound of his roaring laughter from her jokes, the curve of his smile, the messy stubble, god, she was really losing it inside the bus. Her every thought, motion, every constriction of her body - pulse and all - was consumed by him. Her legs rubbed together desperately, and the slightest, faintest moan left her quivering lips as she let her imagination go wild. 

And the fact that… that an elderly lady was behind her, judging her provocative movements, just nudged her on further - full on deviant shit.

As soon as she’d be home, she’d have a towel under her.

–

Fortunately, past the hospital departure, they wanted to see each other again - platonically. However, it’s been days, and though that may seem quite short, they’ve never been separated for more than 12 hours. 

And these days, these listlessly long days, let Ryujin know of her sympathetic entanglement, and, seemingly intensifying it. Ryujin, with her sore body, stared at Mr. Rager’s phone number on her phone - the curves of the numbers kept reminding her of everything she thought about days before (the curves of the numbers some dubious correlation with Mr. Rager). She’s about to do it again, two fingers, knuckle-deep, into her folds until she’s a drooling mess on the bed. She was already a mess to begin with, a crook in her neck, half her bed unmade, sleep-deprived.

That isn’t to say that Mr. Rager wasn’t just as affected. He never succumbed to the pleasure of the hand, but the dreams, the wistful dreams. Imagining her close smile against him, moaning soft and goading phrases right into his ear - melodiously erotic. Her soft palms against his broad back, pressing deep - trying her best to not scratch up his back. You’re fucking me so good, mm- she’s whimpering, right on your ear, fuck, shivers throughout. Then, halt. It’s the fucking alarm.

Both awake, going through their groggy morning routines to finally meet again. Would it be as magical as it was in the hospital? Would it ever be so calm?

–

The time to meet was approaching quickly. Ryujin got ready, her perfect face, judiciously given with all her perfect talents, was colored with minimal effort, any more and she’d show off her inexperience with makeup - Mr. Rager would’ve lost it all regardless. Because, she was dressed in this tight dress, the type of dress that a girl like her deserves, expensive, ornate, sexy; but, she was a special case, she’d never worn something so ornate and so revealing, and the mirror would reflect a little doe desperately pulling on the hems that revealed her taut thick thighs, the cusp of her petite bosom, and any effort to cover was an ultimately futile effort, this was something she had come to terms with, before leaving her small studio.

And, as if she were in a Wong-Kar Wai movie, she entered the bus: all glammed out in a shitty environment. And the nervous eyes in the bus quickly looked away, intimidated heavily; still, some passengers hoped that they could get a glimpse with the spasm of their pupils to her direction - that’s how good she looked.

She sat down mindfully, crossing her legs - alarmingly aware of the stares. Her face adopted a natural blush - a face too beautiful to hide. Her eyes, set beneath her delicately arched eyebrows, stared at the reflection of herself from the wide glass. She’d never be able to understand her own beauty, too often enveloped in imposter syndrome, and the only person, Mr. Rager, would be the one, who could tell her the beauty of her cascading black hair; her large eyes, accentuated by a deep-set gaze; the beauty with which she carried herself, awkward, yet enigmatically, always, the most beautiful person in the room.

Mr. Rager, gaunt from the opioids, still looked herculean, a fitful combination that fit any clothing piece. With an androgynous face that was covered with sharp eyebrows, dark under eyes, high cheek-bones, and a sort of asymmetrical face that was almost better than the conventional symmetry: in summary, he was someone you couldn’t miss. This inherited comeliness comes with its risks, from the ease of life to the women, things that Mr. Rager succumbed to in violent fashion. Other than that, his preparation was pretty rapid, hopping into his entirely dark-tinted - for obvious reasons - car and set off into the gentle night.

Ryujin landed at the closest bus point to the meeting point. Her dress was unsuited for the weather, and her body began going frigid under a chilly summer day. That’s until a black car, a mercedes s-class, stopped ahead of her. It was nothing to be worried about, she’d just pass by it, acting as if she didn’t see it. However, the figure that exited the car was all too familiar: Mr. Rager.

“Ryujin.” Mr. Rager took a look, scanning her body - making it all too obvious with his pupils - instantly realized why he’s been thinking constantly about her - she’s just the most beautiful person.

And Ryujin, the way her knees slightly folded from seeing Mr. Rager, a slight spasm in her joints - she really missed him. And her hands crossed together between her loins, her eyes opened slightly larger.

“Don’t be so nervous.” He chuckled, that chuckle, that deep chuckle - Ryujin could feel the heat in her core. “Come in, you still have a long way to go,” she gladly accepted, entering into the car: feeling the soft seats, the fragrance of the unusual smell of vanilla and sandalwood (in a car?), and the overwhelming luxury around her surroundings.

“Be sure to dial the temperature or dial whatever you need, I’m sure you were pretty cold outside.” Mr. Rager said, aware of how Ryujin is not one to engage in something without permission - only if he knew what she’d done, the moment before she left, that day. However as he talked, all Ryujin could respond with was a chuckle, she was too focused on how the sentence sounded, how his eyes placed on her face, and occasionally, how it landed on her chest. And that was just the pinnacle for her.

He couldn't stop his gaze, this fermentation of a pending calamity was bounding closer and closer, and thrilled both parties to no end - they couldn’t even hide their own temptations behind the screen of a platonic hang out. By the seconds, the passing seconds, they got bolder, he got bolder. He let his eyes wander far down, her creamy white legs, her meticulous maintenance of it all. And Ryujin was wallowing in it all, his sharp gaze made her feel warmer, wetter - enticing her to dial down the temperature, a contrast from when she was so cold outside.

Still, they’d say nothing, despite it all. The silent hum of the tire scraping against the asphalt was all the credence, the distraction, they were allowed. The rest was this endorphin-filled, endorphin-crazed environment where both of them knew that they were pushing too quickly, given the fact that this companionship began from a suicide attempt.

Still, there’s this slip of time, where they could, possibly, love each other. Though, before these exponential entropic forces caused all sorts of calamity, they arrived at the spot. This run-down complex, that hid a quaint restaurant with private rooms, was a source of nostalgia for Mr. Rager. Ryujin followed, climbing the stairs, ascending just behind him, pulling down on her dress, sticking her thighs together as she climbed (a natural precaution). The restaurant was exactly that, quaint. They entered one of the tight-fitting cubicles, where they sat across from each other, a small sitting-table separated their bodies - unfortunately.

“Don’t be too worried about this restaurant, it may be run down, but it’s a great experience.”

“Oh, no, no, I’m not worried about that, I frequent far more run down establishments than this.” As the words left her tongue, Ryujin cringed, frequent? What am I? A prostitute? Her eyebrows knitted.

“Relax Ryujin,” he chuckled, “enjoy yourself, I’ll pay for it all.”

“That’s the first step to the debt?” Ryujin grinned, loosening, gaining her natural confidence.

“Perhaps. Come on, go crazy.” There it is, that nice toothy grin, her cheeks ripple into some sort of whiskers - god, he’d do anything for that, again and again. 

The dishes came, oily dishes full of food, and Ryujin’s eyes glazed in excitement. After a brief, too quick, moment of eating, both of them leaned back - absolutely full.

“You got a bird’s stomach for your ambition, Ryujin.”

“And you’re a head taller than me, but you’re leaning as well!”

“Good point.” He chuckled, fighting indigestion through it.

“I don’t even like oily food.”

“Me too.”

This time, a collaborative laugh.

Mr. Rager paid the meager bill, leaving all the food to rot on the table - the plight of abundance.

–

“Anything you want to do today?” Mr. Rager asked, putting on his seatbelt.

“It’s really late, I really wanted to punish your wallet, you played your cards right going out so late..” Ryujin relaxed into the seat, fully comfortable, in-tune.

“Well, if you don’t have any plans. Mind if I go the reservation for us?”

“What reservation?”

“That’d ruin the surprise, Ryujin.” The ambient sound of the tires against the ground in combination with the dark night - the darkest night before morning - was an even more intense atmosphere.

This peaceful atmosphere, intense, yet peaceful, again, just like the hospital visits. This interesting continuation of happiness, so foreign to his life, was something that he could get used to. His forearm pressed against the storage compartment, letting his hand spill over; his other arm was loosely steering, as loose as the gentle dark night. 

As he trailed the road, occasional peeks at Ryujin showed her transition to sleep: drowsy eyelids that infrequently close for periods of time, then, longer periods, then, sleep. 

Who was this angel? This angel that wrought Mr. Rager all manners of hope, of happiness, of reflection. If he hadn’t been so stubborn about his affliction towards personal information, maybe, just maybe he’d understand her more, this girl - so beautifully clad in a flowery dress.

Is this love, this elusive feeling? How could it be so cruel? So cruel as to bring it to me at a time so random, and so heavily…

Again, he forgot his bad habit: speaking his thoughts out loud.

He realized too late, and he could feel her large eyes staring at him, confused. 

Yet, and yet, he felt the gentle warmth of another palm on his forearm - a reassuring grip.

“Min, I love you too.”

CHAPTER III: No Longer Mr. Rager

I want to kiss you on your space below your navalette

The place you keep so neat, so moist like a towelette

Ryujin, her beautifully beady eyes looked at you, as she lifted your forearm, planting little kisses all over it.

“Oh Ryujin.”

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for that, Min.” A statement that left her lips as she continued worshiping his forearm.

Jesus, this woman.

He pulls into the closest parking spot, giving not a single fuck that there were a few cars there - all likely empty, anyway.

And, with all pretenses and courtesy removed, the forearm that was so judiciously worshiped, wrapped around her nape, pulling her into a searing kiss. That deep moan, that accepting moan as his mouth opened against hers. He almost forgot the most essential question - suddenly, slightly pulling away from the kiss.

“How’d you find out about my name, Ryujin?” Min asked.

“A woman doesn’t disclose her secrets, besides, how could my love not have a name?” Cheesy, feisty, what a woman.

“Good point.” Another searing kiss, dynamic, evolving, every step more depravedly romantic than the previous.

He was pretty sure that he’d break something, in the middle compartment, that separated you from total body connection. Again, you pull away, this time, it brought out a desperate whine out of her, her arms that wrapped desperately around you kept pulling you in - like a vortex.

She understood the memo as soon as he exited the car - love connection. This time, with a wider space, still constricted, was the best they could do, and they’d relish this extra space. Min, naturally assumed dominance over Ryujin, her body acclimated against his aggressive pulls and pushes - all for the pleasure of Ryujin, and she didn’t take it lightly, each breath heavy with the densest pleasure. Oh, oh, oh, keep manhandling me. She’d whisper. And he’d obey.

As Ryujin, with her tight dress, splayed against the seats on her back, took initiative to take off Min’s clothes, button-by-button. “Oh I’ll fuck you so good, Ryujin, so fucking good.” He’d repeat, over and over, and Ryujin would get more aroused by each iteration: “Yes, yes! Please.” Occasional soft bites were felt all over his collarbone, his neck, his earlobe. “Possessive little bird, I’m not going anywhere.” He caressed her head, making sure that he’d also mark her, a heavy hickey on her neck.

And Ryujin fucking loves it, she softly caresses him, soft grasps against his back, locking her taut legs around him, begging for continuations. And, Min would obey, in his own rebellious way, tightly grabbing her breasts - hidden behind the dress - then pressing kisses all over her neck, nearly all of them hickeys. 

“Fuck the reservation,” he grunted, it was an expensive reservation, but he doesn’t give a fuck: Ryujin’s right under him, begging for him to ravage her taut body. And she replies, “That’s right, that’s right, mister, master!” The end of her sentence was capitalized by Min’s heavy grasp on her breasts.

“That’s right, little bird.” Low grunts against her ears, his thick shaft, covered, grinded against her body, while his mouth assaulted hers.

And she cums, her head turns up, looking wherever - straining her neck - to release her pleasure. “Ngghhh!!!” A heavy whine, so enthusiastically human, straining against the seats that held her back. “Holy shit! That was so amazin-” enough talking, he’d motion, locking mouths together.

Silent moans, “mmmf..” hummed against his tongue, Ryujin was so turned on, and he’d love to fulfill all her wishes. Each rotation of his hip against hers were accentuated by Ryujin’s deep moan, squeaky moans, the moans that she couldn’t hide by covering her mouth. His hand, fixed onto her breasts, finally ventured below, feeling her lithe abdomen - the slightest abs - then letting his hand rest on her pelvis, just above her pussy. 

He finally released himself from the hypnotizing kiss, staring at her body - mostly still covered by the dress: now, that, won’t do. He pulled on the bottom hem of her dress, revealing her wet core, an embarrassed squeak along with it all. “You’re so fucking hot, Jesus,” he had a taste of what her body looked like, and he just can’t get enough. All precaution thrown out the window, the expensive dress was about to be ruined, and Ryujin - ever resourceful - seemed to allow it. He pulled the upper hem of the dress down, breaking the straps that could’ve been removed easily - this is a statement, I own you - Ryujin seemed to get the memo - all beady and begging.

Her soft breasts, creamy, smooth, with pink nubs spilled out from the tight dress. He pressed both his hands, all over her body, exploring the transitions from her taut skin to the scrunched dress, making sure to remember every facet of it all. “How badly do you want it?” He whispered, wholly focused on her body, subtly noticing her wet core, the outline of her pussy growing clearer by the second. And Ryujin didn’t even have to answer the question, locking her legs around his waist, frantically trying to get her hips on his covered shaft - yeah, she’s fiending for it.

And Min, ever the indulgent, gently moved and hovered his hand over her neck, waiting for that confirmation, that wink, that nod - and, Ryujin, calming down from the intense pleasure, nodded. That first grasp, tight, measuring her tolerance, measuring just the moment when the eyes go back to her eyes - and he seemed to completely pinpoint it, that slight spasm of her body, and her inner thighs are just soaked.

Finally, Min decided it’s time to give her sopping cunt some attention. Peeling the layer to the side, wet with the highest arousal, hid her bright pink core - and it, her core, was begging to be sated, pulsing, glistening, beautifully fragrant.

Firstly, he let a single finger prod, then entered. And Ryujin was already shaking, her eyes went straight to the back of her head, and her neck vascularized - all veiny - from the soft choke. It would’ve been too cruel to give her too much pleasure, so he took his hand off her throat, instead, patting her head - letting her know that she's doing so good, so good. 

In and out, motion of the ocean, slick covering his finger the deeper he went, earning the most virile moans out of her cute mouth. “You like that, huh?” He dug deeper, until his knuckle - a loud moan. She had never felt anything like this, her two fingers could never compare, and she’s a virgin after all, and she’s about to get deflowered in the backseat of a car - and, she loves it. 

In a swift motion, where Min continued his manhandling of Ryujin, he pulled his finger out - in a hook motion to agitate her g-spot, earning a girlish yelp - then, let Ryujin taste her own juices on his finger.

“You’re doing so good.” Min whispered, so overly joyed by Ryujin, how her petite body convulsed in pleasures beyond what he could ever imagine.

“I know.” Ryujin replied, defiant to the end. She knew exactly how this inspired him to be rougher - and she loves it. He gripped her waist, gripping harder, letting her firm abdomen mold against his grip, dug deeper into her cunt, placing his thumb over her engorged clit. One. Two. Three motions around her clit, three motions of his finger into her cunt - before she squirted onto the side window, far more girlish yelps, and desperate panting. This time, Min with his wet hand, spread it all over Ryujin’s face - the essence of her arousal, via his hand, spread on her face, where makeup was placed so thoughtfully, only to be ruined by her own squirt. She’s panting amidst all this, unable to process anymore than her overwhelming second orgasm. 

“You’re a fucking mess, Ryujin, cumming this quickly?”

“You made me this way…” She huffed, “you fucking brute.”

This time, all Min does is press against her pelvis - specifically, the pelvic bone, where just below is her g-spot, and the slight pressure, was absolutely deadly. All the while, he declared, “That’s right, little bird. I’ll press you against the seat, face-down, slam into your ass with all the force I can muster - then, when I’m deep, too deep, cervix-level deep, I’ll release all my cum into your precious little womb.”

“Nghhh~~!” And another squirt, where her legs closed together, toes curled, and her head hung back. While Ryujin was trying to recover, Min placed a quick and wet kiss on her lips, but that'd be the only romanticism that Min allowed her. Quickly, he let her sit up, pulling her by her thin wrists. Then, he pulled down his own pants - letting his shaft free from the restraints of his tight clothing, the painful onset of an early blue balls in its conception, that was only fuel to the fire to fuck Ryujin good, and hard.

“Sit on my lap facing me, Ryujin.” He demanded. And no matter how much Ryujin came, squirted, panted, and yelped - she’d always oblige in Min’s demands. She quickly hooked her other leg over him, in a hovered position rather than sitting. This time, he passed his fingers through her wet hair, letting it pass behind her ear, “safe word is Mimetic,” and he earned a soft nod from Ryujin, and consent to batter her sopping, wet, sticky, engorged pussy.

He slithered a hand around her waist, holding her in place; then, placed his other hand around her neck, just on the nape. He pulled her in for one last kiss. The last bit of eye contact before penetration, and all that could be seen in Ryujin’s eyes - beady and all wet from pleasure - was a fiending desire to be fucked silly.

Slowly, he let her descend, right up until his tip kissed her wet folds. She winced from her sensitivity, just from the touch. And that’s when it flashed in her eyes, she wasn’t sure if she was ready, given the fact that she hadn’t told him about her virginity. Before she could realize her thoughts through speech, she felt the intense heat of something foreign entering - something so thick and large - and it wrought every emergency signal in her brain - all of them, positive. “Oh–OH, fuck…” is all that Ryujin squeaked out before he pushed in deeper, feeling her gentle pussy wrap around his shaft - all wet and moist. A constant sizzling whisper could be heard from Ryujin as he buried his cock deeper, until, halfway in, where she let out a deep moan. “Holy fuck,” she moaned again, deeper. Holy fuck is right, her body was so resistant, tight right at the start to the end, yet, the way it also sucked his shaft into its wet folds - Min was already addicted.

“Ryujin, you’re so tight.” He said as he kept nudging Ryujin to move farther down, waiting for her glistening pussy to completely wrap around his shaft - then, eventually, completely devour her in the backseats of his own car. Yet, as he went through it with her, he began clueing in on the note - Ryujin is very.. Too sensitive. Why Ryujin focused on getting herself down, skewering herself on his length - desperately breathing, her chest dilating in and out. Through it all, as Ryujin tried to, adorably, hide her inexperience, Min pressed a compassionate kiss right into her mouth. 

“I love that. The fact that you’re so horny for a virgin.” He whispered against her mouth, breathing hotly, immeasurably hard.

And Ryujin needn’t respond at all, all she needed to do - well, did - was reach out with her tongue for his mouth, with those prey eyes, begging to be taken, testing her fickle fate - a sign that he needed to kiss her, devour her, again and again until hell freezes over. And finally, during the desperate haze of a reunification of mouths, he finally buried himself straight to the hilt, in her pink, glistening, sopping, beautiful core. And slowly, the wet sounds of sex, so blatantly loud in this claustrophobic environment, reverberated inside the car; the wet sounds of her moans covered this hazy atmosphere, coming from her lips that detached from his mouth, streaks of saliva still connecting them both; and that feeling, this mutual feeling of utter bliss, how her back bent - contorted - into every pump.

They couldn’t stop staring at each other, two perverts, two soulmates who couldn’t go for a second without looking at each other. Even when Min pushed up harder, letting his full length pass through her virginal hole, they still maintained that sensual eye contact - that essential eye contact.

“You fuck me so good, Min.” Ryujin said as her two small breasts jolted from every pump, every contraction of his length leaving her one step closer to ruin - until her eyes went back to that dangerous place, that orgasm line. And the resulting pressure, that heavenly pressure, pressed against his shaft so strongly, that his tight-lipped mouth let out a few growls of pleasure, a sign that he’s close to painting her womb in baby batter. 

Ryujin, ever the caretaker, felt the convulsions, and began pressing desperate kisses over his face - anywhere she could reach, whilst patting him on the back. And Min would never admit he liked it, that he loved it, and he didn’t need to admit it, Ryujin already knew. 

And she knew exactly, that this was the final straw that she needed to break before she was filled with his essence, the catalyst of that final convulsion. Min immediately seized, grabbing Ryujin in a bearhug - one that could’ve bruised her - and pumped hard, that final wet sound of sex, before, rope after rope of release entered deep inside her, splashing against her cervix, filling her womb.

“FUCKKK!!” He growled, he hadn’t felt this good since ever. And the same for Ryujin, who cried a leaky yelp, where her last bits of squirt flowed down the slightest nook from their love connection. They were static for a moment, relishing in the deviant copulation they engaged in, where, almost, the condensation of their lovemaking was visible in the air of the car.

“I love you.” She kissed him again, staring all lovey-dovey, as if her pupils had gone and turned into hearts.

“I love you.” He stared at her, happy, smiling.

“I love you more.” She added, exaggerating her laugh, trying to tease.

“I concede.” He replied.

“Heyyy! You’re supposed to say it back!” “I’m more for physical demonstrations. Wanna see?”

“Uh no. Please. It feels like it's about to fall off.” She was mentioning her pussy, all swollen and gummy to the eye.

“I love it, it’s so beautiful.” He replied, fully serious, digging his mouth into her neck, he was absolutely crazy about her.

“Min, I gotta take a shower, you’re being gross-” that’s when Min pressed a finger onto her - still engorged - clit, and proceeded to say, “I’m fucking crazy about you.” 

“Ngh! Stop! Seriously, it’s about to fall off.” Unfortunately, the collected accumulation of their love juices swiftly dripped down as Ryujin jolted back from him touching her clit.

“Isn’t this gonna stain your car until the end of time?” She stared at the significant puddle of who knows what.

“Let it. A commemoration of our intense copulation.”

Ryujin blushed, quickly grabbing the tissues that Min offered her, and wiping off all that she released, her entire lower half, essentially, was wet. And Min got aroused from watching Ryujin cleaning herself - her little winces when she slightly grazed her cunt only adding fuel to the fire. “Clean my cock.” Min demanded, but when Ryujin grabbed the tissues - ready to oblige - he replied, “with your mouth.”

To be continued...

Ahhh, I love cliffhangers. Enjoy waiting for 10 months! (just kidding!)

Honestly, I wanted to take months with this project, but I just can't seem to stop myself (from writing mid stuff).

[theorangerangers]

Why did you have to explain pegging?????? Anyways RPM 22

My family is from Iran (so English is a second language to most of them) and my cousin yelled she was going to peg her husband while drunk and no one (including the husband) knew what that meant besides her and me so I start laughing hysterically because I was super drunk. And everyone else is wondering what the fuck she was saying she was going to do to him and I had to explain because she was trying to get out of explaining.

And that’s how I gathered my extended family around a campfire at my uncle’s 44 birthday party and gave them an explanation of Pegging. Some of these people changing my diapers as a baby and now they know less about straight sex than I do as a 19 year old virgin lesbian.

this is 80 bullets so its numbered for my sanity

K was the original builder of the race performance machines

Ziggy, Dillion and gem were tight in prison

Gem and Dillion were the two most feared men in that prison for exact opposite reasons

Ziggy like with most things with their team is just along for the ride

Gem, Gemma, and K are childhood friends

K spent time in a maximum security prison after being tried as an adult at eleven for a crime she didn’t commit and gem and Gemma were considered accomplices

Gem Gemma and k always loved cars as kids

Gemma broke out of prison, while Gem got out on good behavior and K served her sentance

Gemma got a bit harder in prison than her brother did since she didn't have the back up

sometimes though a blind girl named Tanya would help her out but ultimately Tanya knew how to run with the wolves in a way gemma wasn't quite ready for yet

Dillon was locked up for illegal street racing with his sister but doesn’t know where she ended up

Ziggy had managed to smuggle over 1000 pounds of cocaine over the board before getting caught

Ziggy was the guy who could get you almost anything while locked up

summer was recently released from rehab for her substance abuse 'problems' because heaven forbid her parents try and do anything themselves

It wasn’t actually anything that bad, it was weed for crying out loud who doesn’t at least try weed by their twenties! but no two blunts in her purse was enough to get her sent off without another word.

ironically getting locked up made Summer a much better criminal in the long run

Scott was dishonorably discharged due to false claims

Flynn makes money under the table at his shop by fixing bullet holes in cars with a closed mouth policy

Scott found racing through a friend who told him it would almost be like flying again

Summer met Scott and Flynn at a bar and they had all made decent drinking buddies.

Scott hadn't meant to bring Summer and Flynn to the races but too much vodka and one thing leads to another and boom their cheering for some guy named Gem in his gold car as he shoots off like a rocket with his sister

they were all in it for the thrill now regularly going and watching

Scott had been trying to get his car race ready with Flynn's help when he was approached by a girl who went by K who asked if they were interested in joining their crew since they could use some extra hands and as good as Flynn was she was better

Flynn took it as a challenge, Scott saw an opportunity and Summer swore she had seen K somewhere before either way they were all on board

summer was going to be their quote on quote eye in the sky watching the cars from behind encase one of the other teams tries any funny business on the track

Scott was going to be another driver along side, the twins and Dillon and Flynn was rising to the challenge with K

Ziggy normally did some side betting to help them handle the financials though he does still deal K refuses to let him sell hard drugs anymore

They once met one of Ziggy's old associates on the track and he told the story about a rival gang shooting a bag of cocaine out of ziggy's hand, making it explode all over him and getting him higher than a kite

as things settle in more and the team starts to try and clime in the ranks Scott becomes the de-facto leader on the road while K still controls the garage

K had bought the garage with a rather generous inheritance she had gotten from her father when he passed. the same inheritance the court had said was the perfect incentive for her to have killed him and her mother

the twins know K would never and so does the rest of the team

K has accepted she may never find justice for her parents killer though the twins still have hope (they were screwed over too) that they will find them

K picked Scott not just because of his strong leadership qualities but also because he knows what it is like to be punished for a crime he did not commit

Flynn does not understand how a girl so much younger than him who spent so much time in prison is somehow a better with cars than he is

these cars are better than any other car on the legal market why isn't she selling them?

"because my designs were what my parents were killed over" this kept the rest of the team quite

K does however want to help Scott prove his own innocence in the charges that go him discharged

Scott could not have killed his brother, and K knows this because she knows Marcus is still alive and all they had to do was prove it

Dillon spent his free time looking for his sister with Ziggy tagging along because well ziggy didn’t have many other friends outside the group and he’s pretty sure Gem and Gemma were making C4 in the kitchen when they left

K was the one to ask them to make the C4

the other don't know but as a fail safe she has rigged the garage to blow in case of a last resort

Vengix was a code name for the man who ran a team that was known as the machines

K knew who vengix really was and so did the twins, this was the man who had ruined their lives

Flynn’s father knew exactly what his son was getting up to in his free time but said nothing. He respected Flynn’s choices and already knew his son kept questionable company before hand but he did ask one favor of Scott and that was to make sure that his son knew he could come home.

Summers parents didn’t know what she was up to besides that she now worked fixing motorcycles at a garage somewhere in Corenth and to say the least they were upset

No daughter of there’s was going to work inside of dirty motors and engines all day. Of course summer just pointed them to the door and when they refused to leave Flynn and Scott kindly escorted them out

Gem and Gemma’s family was distant at best, they ask for the twins to come home upon their release but they declined

Tenaya is dillon’s only blood family which is why he wants to find her since their grandfather who raised them died while they were both in prison

Ziggy is an orphan as well who spent his early years being cared for by his grandma until she was no longer able to. All of the money he made from drug smuggling he spent on taking care of her and she was still around and he visits at least once a week with Dillon

Ziggy's grandma taught him how to smuggle stuff

Gem and Gemma are so impressed by some of the crimes Grandma Grover got away with, while she shares her cookie recipe with them.

once another team made fun of the RPM team for showing up in matching sweaters Ziggy's grandma made for them and Flynn kicked their ass

when Flynn went home in that sweater and his dad asked him where he got it from, and flynn telling him it was from Ziggy's grandma from when he went with ziggy to bring her some flowers and knit with her for the afternoon it made his dad feel a bit better about the company his son keeps since how bad could they be when they spend the after noon hangout their grandma

The first time Scott saw Maniac named Seven she was changing a tire on one of the machine's Cars, she didn't look at her tools and it took him a moment to realize she was doing it entirely by touch

the second time he saw Seven she looked back at him, her eyes were fogged over and grey, she was blind

Seven punched Ziggy and promised to leave him dead in a ditch somewhere if he messed with her again even though they had only just accidentally run into each other.

Gem was the first one to figure out Seven had a prosthetic hand

K knows who Seven is when she sees her but is unsure she can trust Seven and does not know how Dillon will react to knowing his sister has lost a hand between now and the last time they saw each other

K asks Gemma to dig further since as it turns out, Seven was in the same prison as her and when she sees Seven she immediately recognizes Tenaya

Summer didn't have a crush on Dillon but he was charming in his own way, until she realized part of his charm is his disinterest in her, and according to Gem Dillon's apparent interest in Ziggy which was disappointing until she realized it was also hilarious to think about what exactly both Ziggy and Dillon would consider a date

Flynn was far more charming anyway in Summer's eye's from his accent to his honesty they made a good pair with her kindness and stubbornness

Flynn is also pretty happy to bring her home and introduce her to his dad

Gemma ends up telling Gem who tells Ziggy who tells Dillon about her secret mission and that they have found his sister working for a rival team. he is pissed to say the least.

summer talks him out of going right away to tell his sister who he is but that they need to have a plan since clearly some stuff has gone down since the last time any of them saw her

Tenaya tries to punch Ziggy in the face again when they see her with the Machines at the next race but Dillon pulls her back. "no one picks on Ziggy but us," and Tenaya knew his voice in a heart beat

Tenaya tried to punch her brother in the face too.

"how could you just leave me!" "Tenaya i have been looking for you since I got out of Prison! What the hell?!" none of them had remembered to tell Dillon about the prosthetic as she proceeded to pull it off and begin to try to start beating him with it

Gemma and Gem pulled them apart when it started to get more heated than what they deemed more than a regular brother-sister assbeating

(ayyyyy69!) Tenaya made a dirty joke to Gemma to make her let go of her. something about not needing a blindfold in bed room and immediately made Gem and Dillon regret having ears to hear that with

Once everyone said their piece Tenaya realizes Vengix has lied to her and used her and now is going to sugar all of the cars the machines have.

Flynn is both impressed and also a little heart broken about the shear damage she is about to do to all those innocent cars

Scott completely respects when Ziggy asks if she was gay (he's pretty sure he was trying to hook K up with her but also is probably the worse wing man) and her answer was "only for vengeance, but my brother is just gay for dick," if they weren't both in the military at the time he probably would have said something similar about his own brother.

Gem is Ace and uses the parts of his brain that he doesn't use for sex to draw better rainbows than his sister and this makes Gemma pissed off because she knows her rainbows are better because she's gay

Gemma loves the decorative pillows in her car even though K says they add extra weight

they have a strong reputation as badasses with ridiculous pass times among other racing teams.

Ziggy is friends with Trip who while he is on another team is a friendly enough guy

Ziggy has been attacked by Trip's bird on multiple occasions to the point where the second Gemma sees Ziggy near the bird she just pulls out her phone so she can play the video for Tenaya and Tenaya can laugh at how hard it is to tell what's the bird screaming and what's ziggy

Tenaya basically started a blood war with the machines by surgaring their cars

Gem and Gemma were more than happy to bring the heat to vengix

Scott finds a clue linking what happened to his brother to Vengix and is more than happy to fight, he was a slider after all

[sleep-i-ness]

*Let Bygones Be Bitches (Klaus Hargreeves x reader)

For @the--sad--hatter​‘s Tea Party Challenge

**TRIGGER WARNING**: Substance abuse, mentions of overdose, probably swearing, glamourisation of drugs

I’m not really sure where I went with this. I also haven’t edited it but it’s something I wrote a while back for this challenge and I realised the deadline is tomorrow so I banged out the ending :)

Taglist: @neymarlionelmessi7​ @persephonehemingway​ @blisfvll​ @20coldhearts​

There was something so exhilaratingly freeing about drugs. No one had ever talked to you about that, school had drilled into you the terrible effects of them but as you fell into harder and harder drugs, that had been the last thing from your mind. Really, what you blamed was society. Drugs were only seen as bad if you were poor, if you were a junkie and homeless, or living in poverty. Never mind the upper classes who were almost always off their asses on cocaine; snorted off gold dishes and offered around at social gatherings. Your parents certainly had seen no problems in them; most of your childhood they were high, living life as carefree as possible. Who cared if they had a kid to look after? Well, that was what nannies were for. And you craved their attention. Their approval. So, you acted out more and more, getting kicked out of one posh private school after the other with nothing more than a warning letter from your father each time.

And so, drugs had ended up becoming an escape rather than the rebellion you had hoped to lead against the careless lifestyle of the rich. The schmoozing amongst those of your ‘kind’ was done over lines of cocaine and ever-flowing bottles of champagne, never sober enough to have to remember enduring pointless small talk. Life was too fun to bother with formalities, you and the reckless debutantes and bachelors of your age were jumping off roofs into pools and committing arson instead. And when you reached the ripe age of 21, you moved back to your childhood home, surrounded by staff and peers just like yourself, but no one who really cared. Your parents weren’t frugal to say the least, and your allowance grew each time you reached the limit. It was almost like a challenge to see how much you could spend in a month. It wasn’t like you were anywhere near close to running out.

Your town was almost a cultural phenomenon, known for being the residence of the Umbrella Academy, back in the days when they were actually a team. Not just one pitiful member left to sort out the messes by himself. You weren’t sure what had happened to anyone other than Allison, who had launched herself into super-stardom and therefore was constantly a topic of gossip when local drama was dull. Tonight, you had agreed to host your ‘friends’, who were bringing a few of their friends and you knew the place would be wrecked by the end of the night. You wished you could pretend to care about the priceless antiques and expensive imported furniture, but it was all just stuff. Stuff that could easily be replaced. It didn’t truly matter.

You awoke the next day under blinding light in an unrecognisable room, blank white walls glaringly painful. You weren’t at home, that was for sure, nowhere was decorated this hideously at home. As your vision swam into focus, you saw the IV drip hooked up to your arm and heart monitor beeping steadily. Oh fuck, you were in the hospital again. And they hadn’t even bothered to put you in your family’s private suite; you were sure to be making a complaint as soon as you got out.

“Oh good, Miss Y/L/N, you’re awake.” A nurse bustled over, and you bit back the remark that was on the tip of the tongue. You were so sure that nurses were meant to be female, but clearly not in this case. “You were brought in last night, having had a seizure with a dangerously high body temperature and heart rate.”

Oh, that would be the effects of a cocaine overdose. You knew enough about them, having both experienced them first-hand and seen others having them, to know the symptoms. You remained silent, knowing that your family’s private doctor would soon have you out of this dump in the more public area and away from prying eyes. Your parents had people working to ensure that any scandals would be hushed up, so you assumed that this was just a blip before they set you up in a place a bit more suited to your wealth.

“How are you feeling now?” The nurse asked, checking the monitor at the end of your bed, and noting down something on a clipboard.

“Absolutely wonderful,” you remarked dryly, voice hoarse, mouth dry as sandpaper.

“Good, good,” he muttered, placing the tatty clipboard back in the scratched plastic holder. Your upper lip curled; that did not look very sanitary.

The nurse strode out looking purposeful and you wondered what purpose he actually had considering that doctors were the ones who actually did any work.

As the plastic ticking of a clock and heavy breathing of the infirm filled the air, you rolled your eyes, feeling ill at the thought of all of the germs floating around you. The off-white paint was peeling in the corner, cracks running down the wall, disrupting blotchy yellow marks of discolouration. As your eyes roved over the disgusting state of the ward, the scuff marks on the blue linoleum floor caught your gaze and you held back a groan. Did they not clean the place?

“Hey,” a languid voice called from the bed next to you and you frowned, brows furrowing as you tried to figure out whether he was talking to you. “Hey, miss judgemental.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, don’t know your name.” His tone implied he didn’t even care, and you sneered, why had he even bothered to try and start a conversation? “Was I not meant to notice the disgusted looks you were giving the ward?”

“Do I know you?” He clearly wasn’t somebody you would have mixed with, eyes ringed with the remnants of a couple day’s old eyeliner and hair mussed up, strands sticking up in various directions. But there was still something that made you hesitate.

“I’m Klaus.” Klaus… That was a Scandinavian name, right? Maybe he was related to the Bengtsson twins.

“I’m Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.” You waited for the expected exclamation of awe or some form of recognition at least. There was nothing and you snuck a peek at Klaus who had merely raised an eyebrow.

“Y/L/N?” He seemed to be trying to recall something from deep in the dregs of his memory, eyes fluttering shut. “Hang on, wasn’t there a kidnapping? Something about a ransom that wasn’t paid?”

You froze.

There had been so many lawsuits and pulling of strings to ensure that that story never came out.

“How the hell do you know about that?” You hissed lowly, glancing around at the other patients who seemed fast asleep or too deaf to hear anything.

Klaus raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes, taken aback at your reaction. “What do you mean?”

“No one knows about that. No one.”

“Well, I do.” Clearly. Your breathing had sped up and your head felt light. It was all over. You were safe. You were okay. They weren’t here. Goddamn it, why wasn’t it working! The sudden bolt of anger flashed through the fog, but you were too numb to process it.

Klaus had pursed his lips, eyes narrowed, and eyebrows furrowed. Your brain marked that it was an amusing expression. “Hey, Y/N, just breathe with me, okay? Breathe in for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, hold for 1, 2, 3, breathe out for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.”

You followed his counting, eyes squeezed shut as your ears focused in on his voice. The bustle of hospital eased out as your breathing filled your thoughts. Every breath was forced out, long but shallow as your heart pounded in your head, the beat deafening.

You gasped, suddenly realising where you knew him from. “Klaus… Hargreeves? You were there. That’s why you know.”

The crisp, starchy sheets were clean under your grip, crinkling between your fingers as you clenched your hands subconsciously. Leaning closer to him to watch his response, he nodded slowly, head slowly lifting to make eye contact. A mask had dropped, eyes showing something a lot more vulnerable.

“Yeah. That one was one of the worst.”

“I’m sorry.”

It was your fault. And you’d thought the only one affected was you.

“Parents, right?” Klaus murmured, propping himself up on one arm as he continued to watch you.

Your parents hadn’t even cared. They hadn’t bothered to pay the ransom. The kidnappers had slowly stopped bothering to even come visit you with food. Leaving you to slowly died. No one had cared.

And then the Umbrella Academy had turned up. And you’d had the hope rekindled that someone cared.

Your return to your parents had been a surprise, a ‘wonderful surprise’ as they claimed. And the hope has sunk, like a lead balloon as you realised that they hadn’t wanted you back.

“Yeah.” You nodded, knowing nothing needed to be said to explain it. “I feel like it might be a billionaire thing.”

Klaus hummed, rolling onto his back with a dramatic groan as he threw his arms into the air. He stretched out, limbs unfurling like a cat, lithe and supple. The crinkle of plastic caught your ear and you snapped your head towards him, just catching sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed quickly. He stretched out his arms and the plastic bag glinted in his hand. You grabbed it from him, gratefully swallowing the small blue pill inside.

“You know what, Klaus,” you paused, fiddling with the end of your sleeves. “I feel like we might be more similar than expected.”

He grinned, an almost maniacal twinkle in his eyes. “God, we’re such a cliché. Bonding over childhood trauma? Where’d we get that idea from? Some angsty YA novel?”

He snorted at his own joke and you couldn’t help but smile in response, noting the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and the small dimples popping in his cheeks.

Hopefully, this would follow the cliché trope right to the happy ending.

[bettsfic]

loved the fansplaining episode! i would love to hear your thoughts on a little life by hanya yanagihara, i read it recently and had very mixed feelings. honestly, when you guys started to go on that tangent, i was hoping you'd keep going! what didn't you like about it?

i think it would be easier to start with the few things i did like. 

structure: it’s difficult to give a bildungsroman (my favorite novel genre) any kind of urgency because it seems counterintuitive. clever writers can usually thread a long con, though, to keep some semblance of a cohesive plot. in the goldfinch (donna tartt), it’s the painting. in white oleander (janet fitch), it’s ingrid in prison. in body & soul (frank conroy), it’s claude’s music career. in ALL’s case, the overarching thread of plot is somewhat inverted – it’s being strung along for 2/3rds of the book by the mystery of jude’s past. so while you’re pumping the brakes on the present, knowing we’re barreling into a pit of despair, you’re also compelled to keep going to find out what made him the way that he is.

the realistic portrayal of PTSD: jude felt like a constant callout post to me, and i really appreciated seeing my more toxic behaviors rendered in such a clear light. like even in jude’s POV, there was no point where i believed his internal monologue was healthy or good, even though it very closely matched my internal monologue. on a character level, the thread of trauma was definitely well-woven.

the commitment to complicating and appreciating platonic love: it’s just rare to see a book that’s willing to tackle friendships-as-primary-relationships in such a serious and sensitive light. i liked the slowburn between willem and jude a lot.

law stuff: i learned a lot about law. and adult adoption. it seemed pretty well-researched on that front.

and that’s it! that’s all i liked about it. here’s what i hated:

first, the whole thing read like a really long cocaine trip. like yanagihara just got high as hell, locked herself in a cabin for two months, and pounded out this story. and an editor picked it up and was like “lol we good” and shot it out to print. on a very basic level, it’s one of the sloppiest things i’ve ever read, like a toddler running around covering an entire house in paint, and their parent goes “aw how nice.” somebody should have reeled it in. somebody should have said, “this is unnecessarily long, poorly paced, and in dire need of editing,” and then edited it. 

it was difficult for me to turn off my editor brain while reading, and eventually the language started feeling like someone was trying to claw my skin off. did you notice that every single line of dialogue – EVERY. SINGLE. LINE. – had a person’s name in it? no one says the person’s name while talking to them! unless they’re mad, maybe!! it’s like, you don’t walk up to somebody and go, “how are you today, helen?” and helen doesn’t go, “well i’m fine, jason.” that just doesn’t happen!! and maybe i could have tolerated that in a shorter book, but in ALL it just made me want to gouge my eyeballs out and never read again.

on that front, the descriptions got so goddamn repetitive. the themes, repetitive. the plot, repetitive. somebody needed to give that story a mercy killing, just gut it. it might have been a good short story. maybe even a novella or a short novel. but it did not need to be 8000 fucking pages. jesus christ. (and i love long books!! but this was a BAD long book)

eventually jude’s self-destruction becomes so repetitive it’s unbelievable. i know a lot of people like jude, who have similar pasts, who do the same things that jude does to himself. and you know what happens to them at some point in their lives? they go to therapy. they get thrown in a psych unit. they get a psychiatrist. they have dozens of counselors. it’s even happened to me, and i’m the diet coke of PTSD. it would have been far more realistic to acknowledge that even with all the medical help in the world, sometimes trauma still destroys you. that would have been the more compelling story to me, one of recovery attempts and earnest efforts toward wellness. but what we got was jude repeatedly dodging therapy and hospitalization, and all the people in his life going ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

and here’s my biggest beef: it is not written with an ounce of integrity. the entire time, i felt like someone was trying very insistently to pull emotions from me. pity, specifically. i despise stories about pity. pitiful characters in pitiful narratives make me want to puke, and what i hate more is how easily sold readers (and editors! and publishers!) are by it. evoking sadness =/= good writing, no matter how hard you’re crying. you can write about somebody killing a dog and make a reader cry. there was no art to it at all. just manipulation. jude may have been sensitively rendered, but there was a certain sadistic impulse in the writing that felt disingenuous to me, and at no point did i have trust in the story. it’s just melodrama wrapped up as literature. eventually you have to stop kicking people in the nads and write a story that’s true to the characters and world you’ve established. i hate authors who power-trip on making readers miserable.

on that front, the ending was just so OTT. like what the fuck. i believe in tragedies as cathartic but this was just too fucking much. honestly i read to the jude/willem part (where the book! should! have! ended!!), read the wikipedia, and then skipped to the last few pages because i was just emotionally spent by that point. i was just being bludgeoned by “FEEL SOMETHING FEEL SOMETHING FEEL SOMETHING” and i couldn’t bring myself to care about anything that was happening anymore. i’ve written a bit on how good tragedies work, and the quick version is: you should know what you’re reading is a tragedy. here’s no point in hamlet you think he’s getting out of it alive, yk? but ALL (to me) gives just enough hope that you think maybe jude will get better. that’s definitely arguable, though; maybe other people read it and knew the ending all along, and i’m just a glutton for hope.

tl;dr a little life is sloppily written, too long, poorly paced, manipulative, and has a terrible ending.

obvs, if you liked the book, i’m happy for you. i can definitely see how someone might enjoy it, so don’t let my opinion change your perspective. you’re allowed to like whatever you like. but ALL was not my thing.

[haydenbarnes]

Terminus | Self Paragraph

TRIGGER WARNING: MURDER

In the half light of the alley, Hayden’s body casts disfigured patterns on the grey walls. The only change in them is his chest rising and falling, and his hands that he hadn’t even realized were shaking so badly. His jaw stung, he could taste the metallic blood that dripped from his nose. His right eye was barely able to stay open but it had to because he couldn’t stop staring. He couldn’t stop himself from staring as the blood matted itself into his hair or leaked out onto the ground. Hayden knew he should be running right now, he should be getting to a car and driving south never stopping for anything but gas. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t even move. 

“I’m just going down to the 7/11, Riss, you need anything?” Hayden shouted as he sat on the browning, beat-up, second-hand couch and tied the laces of his boots. Since the fire, Hayden and Marissa had started to put patches over the last few years. They’d talked things out properly and had come to a mutual understanding with each other to let things die; to turn to a new chapter. It was refreshing having his best friend back. But, he was worried about her mental state, and after Scotty’s house party where she had been beaten up by some jumped up ex-business associates son he was worried about her safety too. He knew better than anyone how the past can come to haunt you. 

There was no reply to his question, he furrowed his brow. “Marissa?” He called out as he moved through the apartment towards the room she’d been staying in. His fist rattled the wood before slowly opening the door. “Riss--” he said gently as he put his head through the crack and then saw she wasn’t in. “Weird...”. He was sure he hadn’t heard the door open. Hayden went to the front and sure enough, her keys were gone. Not giving it too much more thought, he grabbed his own set and threw them in his pocket before heading out.

Phone in hand, Hayden texted whilst he was walking into the center of Dayton. Let me know if you want anything in for when you get home, I’ll be at the 7/11 in twenty minutes so you got until then. You good? He pressed send and slid his phone back into his pocket, replacing it with a cigarette and lighter. There was always a sense of satisfaction as his thumb rolled over the metal flint wheel and created a spark first time. It wasn’t as good as that first lung fill from the first drag, but it was a close second. 

For being in California, Dayton had an eery chill this late at night. The wind whipped around Hayden and caused him to pull his jacket tighter around his body as he jogged across the road onto the other sidewalk and turned the corner. He could hear the buzz of life ahead of him in the nightlife district. He looked down at his wrist; 11:09. It was the hour of the night that determined the following seven. Either you were calling it a day and heading home to bed, or you were committing to seeing the sunrise. There were no half measures in Dayton’s scene; all in or all out.

Hayden didn’t want any trouble, and he certainly didn’t want to be roped into staying out any longer than he had intended to be away from home for. He was trying to sober up a little bit, trying to stop taking the edge off every five hours which was the state he had got to before Marissa had moved in. So, he decided to take the back alley route through the club scene, a concrete maze he had worked his way around when escorting bloody, beaten and bruised patrons of The Labyrinth away from the business without drawing any untoward attention. 

He was just getting to the back of the business in question when his attention was taken away from his path by the backdoors flinging open followed by a young man being quite literally thrown out into the alley. “If you show your face in here again, you won’t be able to walk for a month! You’re being watched, dickhead.”. The venomous tones of one of Ainsley’s other henchmen spat before slamming the doors closed. The man stumbled up to his feet and staggered to the doors, smashing his fists on them. 

“I didn’t fucking cheat! Since when is being more clever than the dealer cheating?!” He shouted with pain, panic, and fear clear as day in his voice. 

Hayden sighed and shook his head, dropping his gaze and composing himself as he felt that guilt begin to flood through his body. He could deal with it when he was involved. When he was the one throwing the punches and making the decisions. When the adrenaline was coursing through his veins, causing a better high than any combination of cocaine and heroin. He could deal with it then. But, watching and hearing the aftermath of actions he too committed was almost too much. It pulled at his moral heartstrings. Especially today. The anniversary of his Father getting murdered for mistakes he made. 

“You’ll pay for this!” The guy carried on, clearly on some kind of adrenaline side effect where things were coming out like word vomit. “This whole place will pay for this! I-- I-- I’ll go to the press! Ainsley FUCKING Slater is going to be on every newspaper front page tomorrow!”

Hayden’s eyes flicked open, darkness flooded into his pupils. His chest dropped and his hands curled into fists. His jaw tensed, teeth clenched. Open the fucking doors. Bring him back in. Take him out of my reach. He prayed that if anyone was on the other side of those fire doors that they heard his threats, and would take him in for round two. Please.

“No-one fucks with a Weston and gets away with it!” 

Weston. 

Rage consumed Hayden, it was an amber that constantly burned in the pit of his stomach but the moment he heard that name it was like someone had doused it in oil and sent it blazing. His head snapped up and across to the sound of the voice and sure enough, there he was; Tate Weston, the red-head that beat up his best friend. The little brat who thought he could steal from his place of work. The fucking dead man walking who threatened Ainsley. 

“You think you’re so big and hard, don’t you?” Hayden yelled as came out of the shadows of the joining alleyway into the dimly lit backway of the casino. 

“I don’t think, I know. You think this place can stand up to the power my family has? This place won’t last a press campa--” Smack.

His fist smashed across Tate’s nose, the cracking sound of bone echoed in his ears. The red-head whelped in pain as crimson leaked from his nostrils. Hayden pulled his fist back and plowed it straight into Tate’s stomach like a hitting a train head-on. When Tate coughed, dark purple sprayed out over Hayden’s lower leg and his shoes. He staggered backward, holding a hand in the air like a white flag. “Okay, okay, okay, s-- st--” he coughed again, blood splattering up the side of a trashcan he used for support. “Stop--” Tate shallowly panted as he collected himself. 

Hayden’s hands were shaking as it began to physically hurt to hold himself back. “Is that what Marissa said to you?!” He yelled. “Is that what she begged after you hit her the first time?! What about the second?! What about when she was laying on the floor and you laid your foot into her ribs for good fucking measure!” Hayden’s powerful voice boomed off the metal in the passageway. “I should kill you!” He swallowed, taking another step to Tate. “I should fucking kill you!” 

Tate took a staggered breath before pushing himself up to his feet and squaring up against Hayden. “Yeah? Well th-- then why am I still alive?” He bit back through gritted teeth before making the last wrong decision of his life; fight back. Tate’s arm left his stomach and pulled backward before springing out to the others' cheek, sending Hayden’s head flying right. He staggered on the spot to keep himself from falling and after regaining his balance was able to get another hit on the bartender, cutting up through his jaw and eye socket. 

The darkness completely shrouded Hayden. It consumed and took over him like a deadly virus, attacking every last good morale in his body. His mistakes had already cost his Father his life; was letting this rich kid go free going to ruin another person he cared about? Yes. It was time he took his own action, wasn’t it? He needed to make sure he wouldn’t speak to the press; that he couldn’t speak to the press. The was a primal sound that came from deep within Hayden’s stomach, a growl that took him back to the dark ages. 

He grabbed hold of Tate’s collar. There was a rasp as the material ripped under the pressure of his grip. There was a ringing in Hayden’s head from the blows the ginger had managed, but that was all that was in there. Everything else was silent; focused on the task. There was no moral dilemma, no attempt to hold his thinking to account. He was going kill him. 

Tate must have been able to see that in his eyes because the man suddenly changed his tune. He started begging, but Hayden couldn’t hear what he was saying, it was like he was speaking underwater or through soundproof glass. Hayden pulled his fist back and delivered a strike. Then another, then another until he was pounding at Tate’s face, breaking every socket and bone structure it held. His own knuckles popped at the force, the pain coursing through his arm but never slowing him down until the collar he had been holding onto snapped and Tate’s lifeless body fell to the ground in a heap. Hayden’s foot slammed into his chest before he stumbled backward, eyes open wide.

                                                             Everything stopped.

In the half light of the alley, Hayden’s body casts disfigured patterns on the grey walls. The only change in them is his chest rising and falling, and his hands that he hadn’t even realized were shaking so badly. His jaw stung, he could taste the metallic blood that dripped from his nose. His right eye was barely able to stay open but it had to because he couldn’t stop staring. He couldn’t stop himself from staring as the blood matted itself into his hair or leaked out onto the ground. Hayden knew he should be running right now, he should be getting to a car and driving south never stopping for anything but gas. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t even move.

“Move... C’mon... Move...” He finally snapped back to reality, dropping down beside Tate’s face and taking it in his hands. Hayden tried slapping his cheeks, he lifted as much of an eyelid as he could find among all the blood and swelling. There was nothing. No movement, no pupil dilation. Hayden grabbed hold of his arm, his heart smashing against his ribcage as his fingers wrapped around his wrist. “C’mon, c’mon-- you bastard, c’mon,” he muttered as he tried to move his fingers around to find a pulse. 

                                                                   Nothing.

Hayden swallowed but there was nothing but blood to go down. His mouth was dry. His skin faded color and-- Fuck, he was going to be sick. His feet stumbled over themselves as he made his way quickly to a nearby trash can, pushed the lid off and threw up into it. What the fuck had he done? What the fuck was he going to do? He can’t go back to prison. He can’t go back to the East coast ‘cause he’ll end up like fucking Tate. Think. Think... Ainsley... This is her place, right? She could-- she could do something, right? Anything? Dylan... Dylan knew the streets, she knew Dayton, she knew the cops... 

He nodded to himself as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and fumbled over the keys. He pressed Ainsley’s name and put the phone to his ear as the dialing tone came on. He paced. He made the mistake of looking back to the lifeless body and almost threw up again. Fuck. FUCK.  

“Ainsley?” He practically whispered when the woman picked up the phone. “I need you-- I need you to fucking get Dylan, and-- Ainsley, just fucking listen to me! I need you to come to the back of the casino. I-- Ainsley, he’s fucking dead.”  

                                                                                            He’s fucking dead.

[esytes69]

Hollywood Biggest Celebrity Scandal

Tim Allen arrested for dealing cocaine, 1978 Before he became everyone’s favorite Santa Clause (or the handy tool man, or Buzz Lightyear), Tim Allen was caught dealing drugs—specifically cocaine. He was arrested for possession of nearly a pound-and-a-half of cocaine at the Kalamazoo/Battle Creek International airport in Michigan in 1978. He spent 28 months in a federal prison, as opposed to a life sentence, for giving up the names of other drug offenders.

Marvin Gaye murdered by his father, 1984 The soul singer of the 80s, known as the Prince of Motown, was shot and killed by his father, Rev. Marvin Gay Sr. after an altercation. (Note: The "e" was added to the singer's stage name.) Gaye's brother Frankie, reportedly held him in his final moments. In his memoir, Frankie wrote that his brother's last words were, "I got what I wanted…I couldn’t do it myself, so I made him do it."

Rob Lowe made a sex tape with a 16-year-old, 1988 A video of the then-24-year-old Parks and Rec star having sex with two women was reportedly recorded the night before the 1988 Democratic National Convention in Atlanta. (Side note: Lowe was largely into politics before his acting career took off.) When it surfaced, it was discovered that one of the girls was only 16 years old. Her mother slapped him with a civil lawsuit, and he ended up settling, paying her a large sum of money and doing 20 hours of community service.

Michael Jackson accused of sexual assault, 1993 In 1993, Michael Jackson was accused of sexually assaulting a 13-year-old boy named Jordan Chandler. After the accusations went public, Jackson cancelled his tour due to health issues from the scandal. He later settled the case, paying the Chandlers $23,000.

O.J. Simpson arrested for the murder of his wife, 1994 Football star O.J. Simpson was arrested for the murder of his ex-wife Nicole Brown Simpson and her friend, Ronald Goldman, following a now-iconic car chase through Los Angeles. After 15 months in jail, Simpson was famously acquitted of both counts, thanks in part to his lawyer's "if the glove doesn't fit, you must acquit" line. In 2008, 13 years later, Simpson was convicted of robbery and kidnapping for a separate incident.

Hugh Grant caught with a prostitute, 1995 In 1995, Hugh Grant paid a sex worker to give him a blow job on the Sunset Strip but the two were found by police and the Four Weddings and a Funeral actor was arrested for "lewd conduct" in a public place. At the time of his arrest, he was with his longtime girlfriend Elizabeth Hurley, who tried to work through the incident. She ended up leaving Grant five years later.

Prince Charles and Princess Diana divorce, 1996 After years of marital strain and four years of separation, Prince Charles and Princess Diana formally divorced in August of 1996. Their marriage was tainted by controversy, especially at the end, with both sides cheating—Charles most famously with long-time love and now-wife, Camilla Parker Bowels. As the future King of England, Charles' status as a divorcee is particularly scandalous.

Princess Diana killed in a car accident, 1997 Less than a year after she and Prince Charles got divorced, Princess Diana was killed in a car accident in Paris after being chased by paparazzi—and it was rumored that the future king planned her death. Later a letter from the princess to her former butler was discovered. In it she wrote that she felt Charles was setting up an incident so he could marry Tiggy, the former nanny of Princes William and Harry, but many believe the note was forged and an inquest concluded in 2008 found no wrongdoing on the part of the royal family.

Bill Clinton's affair with Monica Lewinsky made public, 1998 In 1995, former President Bill Clinton began having an affair with a then-21-year-old Monica Lewinsky, who was an unpaid White House intern. The huge scandal was made public in 1998, and Clinton denied that he had "sexual relations" with Lewinsky. He later admitted that he did have an affair with her, which contributed to his impeachment in 1999.

Marilyn Manson's music blamed for the Columbine shooting, 1999 After one of the deadliest schools shootings—in which two seniors murdered 12 students and one teacher at Columbine High School—people pointed the finger at musician Marilyn Manson. It was thought that the two students loved Manson and his music, and it was said that the singer's songs inspired them to carry out the tragic act. The rumor was proven false, but Manson's reputation was hurt badly from the reports.

Winona Ryder arrested for shoplifting, 2001 In 2001, the Stranger Things actress was caught stealing over $5,560 worth of merchandise from a Saks Fifth Avenue in Beverly Hills, California. She reportedly ripped tags off of clothing items and stashed them in her bag. Ryder later spun the incident positively, telling Daily Mail, "In a weird way, it was almost like the best thing that could have happened, because I’d never asked myself the question before of, Is it okay if I’m not going to act? Is there anything else? because that was all that I really knew."

R. Kelly arrested for child pornography, 2002 R. Kelly was indicted on 21 counts of child pornography after a tape showing him having sex with and urinating on an underage woman was sent to the Chicago Sun Times. He plead not guilty to all charges. Since, dozens of women have claimed to have been held in a sex cult by the singer. The hashtag #MuteRKelly started spreading recently, and Spotify was the first company to actually take action.

Madonna and Britney Spears kissed on stage, 2003 During a 2003 MTV Video Music Award performance, Britney Spears and Madonna shocked everyone when they kissed on stage. Christina Aguilera was performing with them, too, and got a smooch from Madonna, but the cameras switched shots and their kiss wasn't televised. Videographers instead cut to a shot of Justin Timberlake's shocked face.

Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston announced their divorce, 2005 In January 2005, Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston made a shocking joint statement that revealed they were breaking up. "We would like to announce that after seven years together we have decided to formally separate. For those who follow these sorts of things, we would like to explain that our separation is not the result of any of the speculation reported by the tabloid media," they said in the statement. "This decision is the result of much thoughtful consideration," the statement continued. "We happily remain committed and caring friends with great love and admiration for one another. We ask in advance for your kindness and sensitivity in the coming months." It was thought that their divorce was the result of the scandalous affair Pitt had with Angelina Jolie while filming the movie Mr. and Mrs. Smith.

Britney Spears shaved her head, 2007 Also in 2007: Britney Spears shaved off all her hair. The "Oops I Did It Again" singer hit rock bottom, beating up a photographer's car with an umbrella just days after going at her head with a buzz cutter. That year was a rough year for Spears, and it started the famous meme: "If Britney Spears can make it through 2007, then I can make it through today."

Kim Kardashian's sex tape made public, 2007 Before she was married to Kanye West, Kim Kardashian was in a serious relationship with another singer: Willie "Ray J" Norwood. The couple reportedly filmed a sex tape back in 2002 during a trip to Cabo, Mexico, and it was released to the public five years later when Kim began getting more media attention for being friends with Paris Hilton (who also has a sex tape). Kim sued in an attempt to prevent the 41-minute film from being accessible, but it still found its way to the internet.

Heath Ledger found dead, 2008 In 2008, the 10 Things I Hate About You actor was found dead in his bed in New York city. The NYC Medical Examiner's Office later determined that the cause of death was an accidental overdose of prescription painkillers, including anti-anxiety meds and sleeping pills. The Dark Knight, starring Ledger as the Joker, was released that summer in theaters, and his performance won him a posthumous Oscar.

Chris Brown assaulted Rihanna, 2009 Back in 2009, Chris Brown beat up then-girlfriend Rihanna after she discovered a text message from one of Brown's former flames. The "Forever" singer reportedly punched her in the face, repeatedly bit her, and choked her, but not to the point of unconsciousness. In a 20/20 interview, Rihanna opened up about the incident. "It was ugly," she said. "I fended him off with my feet…but it was not like, it was not like a fight with each other. I just…I really just wanted it to stop."

Michael Jackson killed, 2009 Michael Jackson was found dead on June 25, 2009. The cause? Surgical anesthetic Propofol, which was given to him by his personal doctor, Conrad Murray. Murray claimed to be injecting the King of Pop with the drug as a treatment for his insomnia. Jackson's death was ruled a homicide, and Murray blamed for negligent monitoring. He spent two years in jail for involuntary manslaughter.

Whitney Houston found dead in a bathtub, 2012 The world was shocked when Whitney Houston was found dead in a bathtub at the Beverly Hilton Hotel in 2012. An autopsy revealed that the singer died from accidental drowning. Her body was found with numerous drugs in it, including cocaine, marijuana, Xanax, and Benadryl. Houston had heart disease, so it is thought that the disease mixed with cocaine contributed to her death.

Solange Knowles gets into elevator fight with Jay Z, 2014 Following the 2014 Met Gala, leaked surveillance video captured Solange Knowles physically fighting her brother-in-law Jay Z in an elevator at the Standard Hotel in New York City. Although there was no shortage of speculation on the internet, the Carter-Knowles family gave little information as to what actually went down. “They both acknowledge their role in this private matter that has played out in the public. They both have apologized to each other and we have moved forward as a united family,” they said in a statement given to the Associated Press. Although the family has remained incredibly mum’s the word on the situation, Jay Z broke his silence in 2017 to share that he and Solange truly have moved on. "We had one disagreement ever. Before and after, we've been cool. She's like my sister. I will protect her. That's my sister, not my sister-in-law. My sister. Period,” he said during an appearance on Rap Radar.

30 Kanye West, Kim Kardashian, and Taylor Swift feud over "Famous" lyrics, 2016 Kanye’s infamous “I’mma let you finish” at the 2008 Video Music Awards turned out to only be the beginning of his beef with Taylor Swift. In 2016, Kanye released the song “Famous” on his The Life of Pablo album, which explicitly mentions Swift in the opening: “I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex/Why? I made that bitch famous/Goddamn, I made that bitch famous.” Although Swift claimed she didn’t know about the song, Kim Kardashian decided to interject on her husband’s behalf. In a series of Snapchats, Kardashian leaked a recorded phone call between Kanye and Swift—Kanye shares a clip of the song for Swift’s approval, and the singer is heard saying, “Yeah, I mean, what's dope about the line is it's very tongue in cheek either way. And I really appreciate you telling me about it, that's really nice.” Swift’s response to the Snapchats? The singer claimed Kanye never shared the most offensive part of the lyrics with her. “Where is the video of Kanye telling me he was going to call me ‘that bitch’ in his song? It doesn’t exist because it never happened. You don’t get to control someone’s emotional response to being called ‘that bitch’ in front of the entire world,” she wrote on Instagram. To this day, the feud still remains a case of he-said-she-said.

Harvey Weinstein accused of sexual assault, 2017 On October 5, 2017, Ashley Judd accused longtime movie mogul Harvey Weinstein of sexual harassment—a bombshell accusation that led to the historical Time's Up and #MeToo movements. Since the first allegations, a number of other actresses have come forward with their stories of being sexually harassed or assaulted by Weinstein. After eight months, he finally turned himself in to police in New York City.

20-year-old Kylie Jenner quietly gives birth to first child, 2018 After months of speculation, an uncharacteristically quiet Kylie Jenner took to Instagram to share that she had given birth to a baby girl on February 1. Although news of her reported pregnancy with boyfriend Travis Scott leaked in September 2017, the reality star chose to stay quiet through all nine months, never confirming the news. “I’m sorry for keeping you in the dark through all the assumptions. I understand you’re used to me bringing you along on all my journeys. My pregnancy was one I chose not to do in front of the world,” she wrote in an Instagram post announcing the news. The 20-year-old also released a home video, “To Our Daughter,” that gave fans a peek at her hidden pregnancy.

Princess Diana's phone calls with her lover, James Gilbey, released, 1992 In 1992 The Sun leaked a transcript of Princess Diana's secret phone calls with her lover, James Gilbey. Diana was still married to Prince Charles at the time, who was also reportedly having an affair of his own with now-wife Camila Parker-Bowles. Read the full article

[firesidevisions]

Schadenfreude

by Stephen Amos

James Banner surveyed the crowd in front of him and smiled. They were ready. They were warmed up, he could see it in their eyes, in the way they seemed to lean forward to listen to him. It was time for the finale of his speech, a speech many of them had heard before on TV if not in person. 

‘So, let me ask you this…’ he boomed. It wasn’t a shout, he just projected and his voice was heard. This made any subtleties he needed to convey easier to get across. Although today was not a day for subtleties, it was a day for well-worn and effective points. They had, so far, helped propel him to the limelight of politics and the cusp of something greater - power.  

It was what he craved. It was what he knew he would soon achieve. 

‘Do you earn enough money?’ he asked the crowd in front of him, their eyes watching him expectantly. 

‘No!’ they returned. Not everyone yet, but he knew that soon they would all be singing from the same hymn sheet. 

He raised his voice a little more: ‘Are there enough decent jobs?’ 

‘No!’ Louder this time, they were more into it, willing to take part in the growing mass hysteria. 

‘Are you earning enough to live?’ 

‘No!’ 

‘Are there enough opportunities for our young people?’ 

‘No!’    

‘Are our services adequate?’ 

‘No!’ 

‘Our NHS! Our Schools! The Police?’ 

‘No, No, No!’. The crowd was truly with him now, he could feel it. This was why he was here; he loved this moment when he was one with the crowd, or to be more accurate, they were one with him. This wasn’t why he was a politician, but it was what he loved and what he craved. 

‘And who has let us down? Who has let each and every one of us down? Who has failed us?’ 

He paused, leaning back on his lectern, then, after a beat, he came forward again and in a loud savage whisper he said: 

 ‘This government has let us down. This Prime Minister has failed us, the opposition has forgotten us! These people who are so desperate to be loved by those faceless bureaucrats of the European Union-’ 

He said these last two words with withering contempt. 

‘-that they open our borders to all who want to enter. They. Are. To. Blame!’ 

The crowd roared in approval. Banner nodded in satisfaction. 

‘Last year almost four hundred thousand immigrants entered the UK. That’s almost half a million! The government deny this figure. They claim we are plucking it out of thin air, like we can really hide half a million refugees! And that’s only the ones we know! How many others are coming in? We don’t know. Either the government can't tell us or won’t! Frankly, I can’t decide which is worse – that they are incompetent or a bunch of liars! 

‘And what are these immigrants doing? They are taking our jobs! They are driving down wages!  Think about it, if an employer has two choices, to pay a British worker a decent wage or to pay an immigrant the minimum wage, what is he going to do? This drives wages down, this drives living standards down, this drives the amount of tax the government collects down, which, in turn, drives our services down, down! Down!’ 

The crowd booed. Some threw their hands in the air. Their faces flush with anger. 

And that's when he saw the old man. At the front of the crowd. Unmoved and still, the man stood with a wry smile on his face. His hands were crossed as if he was judging Banner as if he wasn't here for the speech.  

Not to worry, Banner thought. There's always one who didn’t feel the buzz, who was a little slow on the uptake.  

'Now I know what I'm saying is controversial and not something the liberal media thinks I should say. Has anyone seen the newspapers today? Watched the news this morning? Apparently, I want to gas all immigrants; apparently, I am advocating the use of concentration camps...'  

The crowd grew quiet. He knew the reason there were so many people here today was because of the comments he had made, of the coverage he was getting, but that was fine by him.  

'They don't seem to get it, though. I don’t want to put them in concentration camps! I’m not a monster! You are not monsters! We just don’t want them in this country in the first place! 

‘What they want to do is disrupt a movement! What they want to do is discredit the voice of the people. What I am saying is not just what I think, it’s what the people want! I am not just the leader of a movement, I am one voice in this movement. I am privileged that I can stand here and speak, but my words are not just mine, they are yours! Don’t let the mainstreamers, the liberalers, the eliters, the politicians, stop you from speaking the truth; don’t let them quash your movement, your revolution!’ 

The crowd was cheering again, he knew what they wanted to believe, what they wanted to hear, and he was more than willing to speak for them. He was, after all, one of them! This wasn’t just rhetoric. He believed it all. 

‘So, don’t believe the liars in the press, look around you and see the truth. In three weeks, there is another election, and you will have the opportunity to shove it to the elitists who run your country. Will you do it?'

The crowd erupted in a cry of ‘Yes!’ 

‘Will you do it?’ 

‘Yes!’ 

‘Will you do it?’ 

‘YES!!!’ 

 *

James Banner could feel the sweat trickle down his back as he was led off the stage and away from the roars of the crowd. He knew they loved him, they were his people and he believed that from the very pit of his soul. 

His assistant, Jeanine Jeffreys, was yapping in his ears about something or other, the next engagement, maybe? His invitation to appear on Question Time on the weekend? That was going to make a big impact he’d been told, although he doubted whether the voters he was cultivating would ever watch that tired old nonsense. He wasn’t really listening, the details were up to Jeanine and they could discuss it in more detail later when he calmed down. Right now, his heart was pounding with adrenaline which throbbed pleasurably in his temples and gave him an almighty erection that pushed at his trousers and pulsed in rhythm to the same beat. He loved this feeling; who needed artificial drugs like cocaine or Viagra when your body could replicate the same awesome effects naturally if you knew how to access them.

He pushed through the crowd of well-wishers, people shouting his name, calling him, chanting one of his mantras: ‘Who’s to blame! Who’s to Blame!’. This is what the career politicians didn’t get. It didn’t matter what your policies were or what you really believed in, all you needed was a few catchy slogans, a few mantras for people to chant, and they would follow you. They didn’t want details, they wanted simplicity. They wanted something to believe in without having to get into details. They didn’t want to think, they wanted to know. That was his job, to tell them what they wanted and assure them it was what they needed. 

‘James!’ 

His assistant pulled on his arm, taking him out of his reverie. 

‘What?’ he replied indignantly. 

‘Have you not been listening to a word I said! I think you should speak to him. It might not lead to anything but if it does it could be beneficial to the campaign.’ 

‘What? Who?’ 

Jeanine sighed. ‘I don’t know why I’m here sometimes; you don’t seem to want to listen.’ 

James turned to her and took a deep breath. ‘What are you talking about?’ 

Jeanine smiled but there was no humour there, just a hint of exasperation. She had been his assistant for three years now, right from the beginning of his campaign. She was organised, committed and a good lay, especially when the times had been hard and the stress had been too much. He would pull her to the side, find a quiet room, whip it out, and release every knot in his body. She took it without question, never asking for more, accepting what was given. He had occasionally wondered if he was using her or vice versa, which riled him sometimes, but who cared. He got what he wanted so he could return home to his wife a little bit more relaxed and avoid a tongue lashing there. 

 ‘OK, let’s start from the beginning. There’s a scientist here who would like to speak to you. He says he has followed you and thinks he could help you and the campaign.’ 

‘Who is he? Who does he work for? 

‘His name is Matt Hastings and he works for the ITR.’ 

‘Never heard of them,’ James said. ‘Why should I speak to him?’ 

They were nearing the car now and the crowd was getting thinner. There were still a lot of people trying to get his attention, but they were being held back by the security guards. 

‘As I said,’ Jeanine continued. ‘It might not lead to anything but, even if he belongs to some crappy institute that has absolutely no power or influence, at least you’ll be able to say you’ve got a bunch of scientists backing you.’ 

James shook his head. ‘I don’t know, I haven’t got time for this.’ 

‘Five minutes in the car, that is all he wants. We could be on the road by noon and your next appearance isn’t until two. There’s plenty of time and, if he turns out to be some crackpot, you can just shake his hand and tell him to go on his merry way.’ 

‘What if he’s dangerous?’ 

‘He’s an old man and he would have been checked for weapons before he gets in the car.’ 

Banner could sense the sarcasm in her voice. He ignored it. ‘OK. Five minutes.’ 

 *

‘Mr Banner?’ 

The car door opened, and Banner looked up from the report he was reading. Standing there was the old man he had seen in the crowd, this time with a wide friendly smile on his face. 

‘Yes,’ He put on his most welcoming and gracious smile, all very professional. ‘Please, come in’. 

The old man stiffly entered the car and flopped down into the seat. He took a moment to adjust his clothes to make his posture more comfortable. Finally satisfied, he smiled then turned to Banner. 

‘Thank you for seeing me Mr Banner, I have been following you for some time now.’ 

‘No, Thank you Mr…’ 

The old man’s smile grew large, lighting up his eyes. His whole face spoke of a grandfatherly benevolence that Banner quickly warmed to. 

‘Dr Matt Hastings.’ The old man replied. 

‘Dr Hastings. How can I help you?’ 

Hastings gave a short laugh. ‘No Mr Banner. The question is - how can I help you?’ 

‘OK,’ Banner said, adjusting his seating position to face the doctor. 

‘I am a member of a government scientific research department, the ITR.’ 

‘ITR? I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with it.’  

‘Nor should you be, Mr Banner. At least not yet. We enjoy a certain level of security and those who have heard of us tend to be on the, shall we say, “need to know”.’ 

Banner was intrigued. Why would a secret government research department want to speak to him? 

‘Are you breaking any laws speaking to me, Doctor?’ 

‘Oh yes, several.’ The doctor waved his hands as if it wasn’t important. ‘However, we feel that whilst we will never have to worry about funding, we should worry about how the government is run and who runs it.'  

‘…ok’ Banner replied. He was getting the feeling he was on shaky ground here and had better be careful. 

‘As I indicated, I - or perhaps I should say, we – have been watching you for some time and, I must say, you have made an impression.’ 

‘A good impression I hope’. 

‘Oh absolutely. Absolutely. We at the ITR have been very impressed by you so far.’ 

‘What exactly do you do? What is the ITR?'

The doctor’s eyes seemed to glow at the question. This was obviously a subject he was very happy to speak about. His cheeks, red with the cold, seemed to push up his glasses as his smile broadened even further. 

‘The Institute for Temporal Research. We, erm, investigate time.’ 

‘Time? As in clocks or time travel?’ Banner gave a short laugh at his little joke. 

Hastings paused for a second and his face grew momentarily serious. Then he smiled again and seemed to come to some decision. 

‘Before we continue Mr Banner, can you tell me exactly what you meant with your…um…Hitler comments yesterday?’ 

Banner frowned. ‘Dr Hastings, please do not believe everything you read in the Newspapers or hear on the BBC. They don’t like what -’ 

‘Please, Mr Banner,’ Hasting interjected. ‘Whether I continue to speak to you today, whether we at the ITR help you with your campaign or not, depends greatly - no, absolutely - on the truthfulness of your response. I have been given full authorisation by my colleagues to either continue talking and in the long run helping you, or, alternatively, to get out of the car and you’ll never see me or hear from us – or, I might add – hear about us, ever again.’ 

Banner froze for a moment, considering what exactly he needed to do. What did they want him to say? This was his strength, working out exactly what people wanted to hear and giving it to them. 

‘Mr Banner,’ Hastings continued. ‘We know what you said about refugees and concentration camps, and the application of Hitler’s final solution. Please, tell me, how would you apply it?’ 

Banner thought for a moment then came to a decision. He would tell the truth. There was something in the doctor's manner, the wording of the question, told him they wanted the truth. Besides, if he was wrong, what was the worst thing that could happen? He would lose the endorsement of someone he had never heard of until five minutes ago. 

‘I believe that a final solution, for lack of a better term, is not something we need to consider. As I said in my speech, why would I want to build concentration camps in the UK for immigrants I am determined to expel? And expel them I will. Every last one of them, and I don’t really care if they were born here or not. We don’t want them here and I am certainly not going to spend precious tax money on building them accommodation.’ 

He smiled. That was the truth, and, if any of his severest critics were to be honest, he didn’t think they could argue with it. 

‘Very good, Mr Banner, very good. However, what you said, I believe, was that Hitler’s Final solution was acceptable?’ 

Banner paused again to think things through. He didn’t like being drilled like this, but if this doctor and his colleagues wanted the truth, then he was willing to give it to them. 

‘Doctor Hastings. I am going to be honest with you. I have always admired Adolf Hitler. Not everything he did, I think taking Europe and the world to war was stupid. He should have concentrated on Germany and left it to that. Over the years I think that other European countries would have followed his lead and formed similar governments to his own, negating the need to go to war…’ 

‘However?’ Hastings prompted. 

‘However, Germany had issues, especially with regards to racial and ethnic groups which were undermining their sovereignty.’ 

‘The Jews?’ 

‘Yes, principally it was the Jews but there were others too – gypsies, the blacks and other undesirables. Germany didn’t have the advantage we have, being an island, and so his immigration problem was more acute. His solution was concentration camps. I think that immigrants and ethnic minorities should have been allowed to leave, which they were in the 30s, but then, for those who refused, Hitler had little choice.'  

Hastings nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yes, yes, I can see your point,’ he said. 

‘I agree that the final solution was drastic and, if Hitler hadn't insisted on going to war, I don't think it would have been required, however, he acted based on the opportunities and the possibilities he had in front of him. I may sound harsh, but I don't think he had much choice.'

‘No, no. I don’t think you are being harsh, I think you may be correct.’ 

The doctor rubbed his hands together and then clapped them. ‘I think, Mr Banner, we can help you!’ 

Banner smiled and realised how tense he had been. It was almost as if he had wanted to win this old doctor’s approval. Maybe it was the gran-fatherly demeanour, possibly the infectious enthusiasm that radiated from him, but it was no denying, this Dr Hastings was having an effect on him. 

‘Mr Banner. Earlier I believe you thought your comment about time travel was a nice little joke. A witticism, shall we say. But you can rest assured that the Institute for Temporal Research does not make clocks, we make time itself.'

‘Time itself?’ 

‘Yes. I suppose you could call us Time Travellers, after all.’ 

Banner almost snorted. Perhaps he had wasted the last five minutes after all.  ‘Time Traveller? Are you telling me you have come from the past? Or the future?’ 

‘Oh, dear me no.’ The doctor laughed with a fair deal of merriment. ‘I’m not a time traveller in that sense at all, and even if I could be, I wouldn’t be able to speak to you like this. Time travel seems limited to observations only. There seems to be a few rules and that is one of them. Paradoxes and all, you understand. No, the IRT are not time travellers per se, although many of us have tried it. No, you could say we are facilitators of time travel. We have the technology and the knowledge. We make it happen, Mr Banner.’ 

‘You’re serious?’ Banner was flabbergasted. This is not what he had envisioned a few moments ago. 

‘Quite serious. And we have been so impressed with you that we thought…um… you might want to have a go.’ 

Banner couldn't help but smile, although whether it was because of the incredulity of the situation, or if it was because he believed it and, well, could go time travelling, he didn’t know.  

Hastings adjusted his coat once more and moved toward the door. 'Now, I know you are busy, but do you think you could arrange to be at the Institute one night, next Wednesday, for example? Hopefully, that will give you enough time to arrange an evening off.'

'Wednesday will be fine,' Banner replied. 'Where do I go? I take it I can't google you.' 

Hastings laughed. 'Of course, how remiss of me. You know, my colleagues often compare me with those scientists in those science fiction films from the 1950s. You know, white coats, bumbling but not aware of the outside world or what is really going on around them.' 

He reached into his coat pocket and brought out a card.  

'Here's the address. It may seem like you are driving into the middle of nowhere and it doesn't really look like much on the outside, but inside.... well, you'll see when you get there.' 

Banner took the card and looked at it. It was just plain white with the letters ITR on the top and a postcode beneath it. 

'Just put that postcode into your SatNav and it'll take you there. Oh, and make sure you drive your own car. All cars in the area are monitored and if your registration is not recognised you will be turned away.' 

'Oh, should I write my number plate down for you?' 

Hastings reached over to the door and opened it. 

'No need,' he said. 'We already know it.' 

Banner frowned. 'Are you watching me?' 

Hastings smiled. 'Of course, my lad. Of course.' 

Before Banner could reply Hastings got out of the car and, without another word, he was gone. 

Banner sat alone for a minute. Did he feel a little paranoid? Probably. Excited? He didn't know. He was certainly intrigued and, although there was more than a little doubt in his mind, he did like the idea. Where could he go? What would he see? Who would he see? It was like one of those silly dinner party hypotheticals that people played: if you could go back in time and visit one place or witness one event, what would it be? Would he even have a choice? 

'Well, that took longer than I thought.'

Banner's reverie was interrupted as Jeanine got into the car beside him. The driver's door opened at the same time and John, Banner’s driver since the start of the campaign, also entered. 

'I was just about to knock the window and tell you to hurry it up,' Jeanine continued. 'What was that about?' 

Banner didn't know quite what to say. He couldn't tell her the truth; he still wasn't sure if he believed it. 

'I've been invited to a dinner party with some of his colleagues. Next Wednesday, 9pm.' 

'But that's the night of...' 

'I don't care, whatever is on my schedule, cancel it. I'm going.' 

'Then I'll have to get my old little black number out then.' 

'No,' Banner said, his voices laced with finality. 'I'm going alone.' 

 *

The Institute was situated about five miles across the border and into Wales. Doctor Hastings was right, it was in the middle of nowhere. He had crossed at Hereford, passed the book town of Hay-On-Wye and then continued down a road that was little more than a lane. The night was dark and his lights illuminated the trees given them a ghostly quality which seemed to add to his mood of anticipation and apprehension. It wasn’t dread he was feeling, he was far too excited to be scared, but he would be fooling himself if he pretended not to be nervous. 

His radio had difficulty picking up a decent signal and he didn't want to flick through channels hoping to find something decent in fear of missing a turn on this most snakelike of roads. There was only silence in the car. The road was so long that not even the SatNav voice had spoken for almost twenty-five minutes. 

He could see he was getting close though, the countdown on the Sat Nav display informing him that he only had a few minutes left on his journey. 

He wondered when he would hit security. Hastings had seemed to suggest that the security would be extensive and, if this institute really did house a time machine, then you would think there would be armed guards everywhere. OK, so they may try and be a bit discreet but so far, he was sure there had been nothing. 

What was he really getting himself into? he thought. 

'Right Turn ahead, 100 yards.' 

The normally soothing Aussie accented SatNav voice broke through the silence and his reverie, startling him to the point that he almost jumped in his seat. That didn’t help either. He didn't really know what he was letting himself in for. He didn't know anything about these people, he had tried to make some quiet enquiries but no one seems that have ever heard of the ITR. It was almost as if they didn't exist. What if they were a bunch of lunatics? What if it was just some elaborate prank, make him drive for hours away from home into the night, keep him away from a potentially valuable evening with donors? He wasn't even in England anymore for god sake! Did he want this to be true so much he was willing to face humiliation? 

Ultimately, he thought, he was. The idea was so intriguing that, if his friends had gotten together to make fun of his misguided devotion, then yes, he would take it on the chin and join them for a drink. Then, he would plot against each and every one of the bastards until they paid for their stupid trick. 

He saw the turning and steered the car right. It was another narrow lane but this time there were only a few corners before he saw the lights of an old stately home. His stomach twitched. OK, there were a lot of government departments situated in buildings like this but where was this security? How could anyone turn him away if there was no one here?  

He parked in front of the main doors and turned off the engine. He could see several other cars parked in the front, all of them very nice – BMWs, Mercedes and even a Bentley. There were also a few white vans all with the Logo ITR Home Improvements. Banner shock his head. Maybe he should drive away now before it was too late.

'Mr Banner!' A voice rang out. 'So glad you could make it. 

'Oh, well,' Banner thought. 'It is too late now.' 

He opened the door and stepped out of his car. Dr Hastings seemed to jog towards him, a brilliant and quite infectious smile on his face. He held his hands out and quickly cupped them around Banner's hands.  

'So great that you were able to make it,' the doctor said. 'We had a discussion earlier today about whether you would or not. I'm so glad I was right!' 

'It's a lovely place you have here' Banner said trying to find something to say. 'You were waiting for me at the door? I hope you weren't there too long.' 

'No, no, no. We knew what time you would arrive. We were watching you on the CCTV.' 

'Oh, I didn't see any cameras on the way here.' 

'Of course not. The greatest security is secrecy.' 

Banner point to the Vans. 'ITR Home Improvements?' 

Hasting chortled. He put his hand behind Banner's back and started to guide him towards the door. 

'Well, we couldn’t really advertise ITR Time Travelers, could we?' His laugh was hearty and warm. 'No, this way we can drive around without anyone asking questions. And if anyone phones the number on the Van's they are told we're a bit busy at the moment but here are some local workmen who come highly praised. It's a nice little idea.'  

Banner nodded.  

He was led through the front doors to a reception area. There, near the front desk, were two men and two women, all in white coats, each with wide smiles on their faces. 

Dr Hastings paused, his chest seemed to grow and the pride on his face was undeniable. 

'Mr Banner, may I introduce you to the men and women responsible for this remarkable feat of science we have achieved here at the institute. This is Dr Fellows...' 

The first man stepped forward. He was a small man with what seemed like a smaller face. It was as if his head was too large. Banner tried to make sure his smile was magnanimous. He reached out his hand and took the doctor's hand to shake it. 

'Doctor...' He said. 

'Dr Michael Dixon.’ 

The second man stepped forward and shook Banner’s hand. He was a black man with what Banner assumed as either a half-grown afro or a badly cut one. Banner felt the urge to laugh and had to fight not to stare. 

'Dr Amy Dixon,'  

A woman stepped forward. A little mousy but with what looked like very large breasts pushing at the white coat. Banner focused on her eyes, rather dull but part of a pleasant face, and away from the attractions below. 

'Dr Dixon? Any relative?' Banner asked. 

'Yes,' Dixon said. 'We're married.' 

'Oh, of course.' Banner had to admit to himself he hadn't thought of that. He wondered how they managed to work together and remain married. He couldn't imagine working with his wife, Silvia, every day. It would mean divorce courts before the end of the first week. 

Finally, he introduced another woman. This one was pretty stunning in Banner's eyes. She was in her mid-30s and had long flowing red hair, a few soft freckles on her small button nose. Her eyes were a striking green, like precious emeralds. She had the look of a model, not a scientist. With her small designer glasses and her long white lab coat, Banner imagined her as a cliché of a porn star pretending to be intelligent. His first thoughts were how he was going to get some moments alone with her. He glanced back quickly to Amy Dixon, her large breasts pushing forward beneath her lab coat and he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to sleep with two scientists.  

(‘Why Doctors, what lovely Petri dishes you have. Of course, you can play with my Bunsen burner.) 

'And speaking of workplace relationships, can I introduce you to my wife Dr Carys Hastings.' Hastings said proudly. 

This time Banner couldn't hide his surprise. What was this gorgeous beauty doing with a dork like Hastings? Had he developed a formula for bedding beauties? He must have been 30 years older than her, if not more. If so, they would definitely be talking later. 

'Oh,' he said. 'I...' he blustered. Hastings gave a small friendly laugh but as Banner looked at Mrs Hastings, he thought he saw the briefest sneer pass across her face, before being replaced by that smiled again.  

'I know,' she said. 'A lot of people wonder how I managed to bag someone as brilliant as Matt.' 

She reached over to Banner and grabbed his arm. 'Come,' she said. 'Let us show you the lab.' 

*

'Oh,' Banner said.  He looked around the room and felt vaguely disappointed. He had imagined something bigger, more technical, more, well, sciencey. At the one end was a series of desks in front of large chalkboards covered with equations. He had no idea what any of it meant but he hadn't realised it would be so old fashioned. There were computers across one wall but they too looked very simple. They were no different to his computer at home. They probably had a server room somewhere he surmised. Everywhere there was paper, covering the desks, piled next to the computers, falling out of the three printers he could see. It looked quite chaotic. 

'This is our home away from home.' Hastings proclaimed. 'Please, come in.' 

Dr Amy Dixon cleared away a chair and indicated for him to sit down. Banner sat, wondering exactly what was going to happen next. His stomach was tight with anticipation. 

'How long have you been here?' he asked. 

'Ahh, Hastings answered. The others had moved to various workstations and suddenly it was as if the office had come alive. Hastings stood in front of him, obviously enjoying holding the floor. 

'Our founder was Huw Morgan, a physicist who worked on the Manhattan Project with Oppenheimer.' 

'The nuclear bomb guy?' 

'That's right,' Hastings replied with a smile. 'Apparently, at night Huw, Oppenheimer and some of the other guys used to discuss the existence of Einstein-Rosen bridges, wormholes. These discussions could get pretty detailed and, even though they spent the day doing math, at night they would just do more math to relax.' 

Hastings chuckled to himself. Banner smiled although in truth he couldn't think of anything worse than doing math. 

'Anyway, when the war ended, Huw returned here to his home and bought this building and set up the institute. Initially, it was solely for theory however Huw always said that he knew, categorically, that one day we would achieve time travel.' 

Hastings chuckled to himself again. Banner got the impression that the scientist had told the story many times and enjoyed telling it immensely. 

'He knew it would work the day we met, not because he saw anything special in me, but because, once when giving a lecture at the science museum in London many years before we had met and he had seen me. I was much older, he said, less hair and much greyer than I was then, but it was me. 

'Unfortunately, Huw died in 1988 and we didn't crack it until 2007. I made my first trip back in 2011 and I didn't really feel like I had much choice as to where to go.' That self-satisfying chuckle again. ' I stood at the back of the room and watched my mentor and hero as a young man, talk about things that wouldn't be realised for almost fifty years. At one point he looked straight at me and I couldn't resist, I just had to smile and give him a wink. I think he knew even then and when I first joined him as a young man in 1975, he knew for certain. 

'I don't believe in destiny or fate but I do believe in the science and for Huw, it predicted the future.' 

Banner nodded. He now wanted to get on with it. The thought of going back in time, of witnessing history, or being there as it happened, was filling him with excitement. He accepted that this was real, that these crazy scientists had achieved one of the greatest breakthroughs in history. And he was on the cusp of taking part in it. 

'And all this is real? No messing?' 

Hastings shook his head eagerly. 

'No Messing. That could be our logo.' 

'So, what happens now?' 

Hastings scanned the room as each of the others gave him a nod.  

'Come,' the doctor whispered. 'This way.' 

 Banner stood and followed Hastings as they crossed the room to a small door. 

'This door acts as the wormhole. We made it like this because it is more comforting than stepping through a void in the middle of a room or a field. Your mind can process the act of stepping through a door and expecting something on the other side. It is easier for the modern mind to process.' 

'I just walk through that door?' 

'Yes.' Hastings passed a small device to Banner.  

'This is a tracker,' he said. 'Keep it with you at all times, don't lose it, I can't stress that enough. The red button will bring you back immediately, wherever you are.' 

Banner held it in his hand. It was the size of a small phone, smooth surface with an LCD display and one red button on the side. 

'The display will keep track of how long you are gone. The device is timed for 5 minutes and you will automatically return.' 

'Where am I going?' 

Hastings patted the politician on the back. 

'As we have already discussed. You want to see the history of your movement. How does the 5th of September 1938 sound?' 

Banner’s eyes grew wide. When he spoke, it was little more than a croak. 

'Nuremberg? The rallies?' 

Hastings nodded. 'None of us have been back to there yet so you'll be the first. We'd like a full report, however, I have the feeling you'll be so overwhelmed by the experience you'll have to return a few times before you'll be able to be subjective and report back fully. In the meantime, try and concentrate on the atmosphere, the people around you and, of course, the speaker.' 

Banner nodded. 'When can I go?' 

'Now, my good man. Now. Just open the door and step into history.' 

'And this is real?'  

Hastings laughed heartily. 'See for yourself,' he said softly. 

Banner nodded. 'Ok, I'm going to do this before I shit myself.' 

'Don't worry. It's a little disorienting at first, especially as you'll be going into a crowd but it'll soon pass. See you in five minutes.' 

Banner was shaking, he could feel it right down to his bone marrow. Yet instinctively this had to be done, he knew it. He was completely convinced that it was true, that he was going to witness history as it happened.  

As it fucking happened. 

'One last thing,' Hasting said, handing him an envelope. 'Once you get there read this, it's a translation of the address that the Fuhrer gives, I'm assuming you can't speak German?' 

'No,' Banner was almost giddy. He took the envelope and stuffed it into the inside breast pocket of his jacket. 'Are my clothes ok?' 

'Don't worry about them, you're only going for five minutes. If there are any issues, press the button quickly.' 

Banner held the device in his pocket. He held it tightly, believing it could save him. 

'Ok,' he said finally. 'Let's do this.' 

Hastings reached for the door handle and pushed it open. The other side was completely black. Banner had thought that maybe he would have had a glimpse at whatever or whenever it was on the other side but there was nothing. And yet, from somewhere he could hear a noise. A crowd perhaps? 

'See you in five minutes, Mr Banner, ' Hastings said. He put his hand on the small of Banner's back and pushed with the subtlest amounts of pressure. 

'OK, let's do it.' 

With a deep breath, pushing aside any worries about what will happen or if it was indeed real in the first place, Mr James Banner stepped through the door and into the darkness. 

* 

The first thing that Banner was aware of was the smell. Before there was light, before the sound became loud enough to interpret, the stench hit him. It was foul, a slaughterhouse of sweat and pain and hurt. It had substance and physicality to it which was nauseating, a rancidness which burned at his nostrils causing him to fight down the bile rising in his throat. 

The motion came next, he became aware that he was rocking, ever so slightly. Almost rhythmically but with the occasional bump that was almost jarring. He was moving, he realised.  

Then came the noise; the movement was given sound. It wasn't pleasant and it certainly wasn't unfamiliar. There was something to it that he knew, that triggered a memory. Something he had heard before. A loud mechanical cacophony that made him wince. Beneath it, there was also something else - crying, moaning, like animals near death capable of making only the most instinctive of groans. 

Finally, he could see. It was dark but flashes of light shone through wooden slats to his left. He looked around, squinting in the darkness and he could see he was surrounded by people, lots of people crammed together, standing still yet moving slightly with the rhythm of the... what? 

The train? 

That was it, he thought. I'm on a train. This made no sense to him. He should have been in a crowd, in an open area full of people all worshipping the sight of their leader, their Fuhrer. Instead, he was... 

He was standing in a corner leaning on the wooden slats of a train carriage. Not a passenger carriage despite the people who were around him. It was a cargo carriage, he thought. Then, no it wasn't for cargo, it was for livestock? 

He turned to the man next to him. He was gaunt, his face drawn and his eye sockets were dark as if they were withdrawing into his skull to avoid experiencing his surroundings. The man stared at Banner without interest or recognition. He wore what looked to Banner like pyjamas, striped black and white. They looked dirty and old and were clearly several sizes too large for the man.  

The smell was atrocious, overbearing. There was sweat, shit, piss, vomit, all ingredients in some revolting recipe. He looked to his shoes and could see he was standing in a swamp of faeces, wet, degrading and unhealthy. The man next to him wore no shoes or socks and the shit was clinging to his toes. Banner took an involuntary step backwards but there was nowhere to go. Some leaked out of a gap in the wooden slats but most was trodden into the carriage floor by his feet and those of people surrounding him. 

'What is this place?' Banner croaked. His voice struggled to assert itself, coming out like a croak. 

The man just stared, there wasn't even any recognition that Banner had spoken. 

'What am I doing here?'  

His voice had started to rise as he could feel the tightness of panic grip his stomach; his larynx twisted and his lungs seemed to empty of oxygen. He could feel bile beginning to thrash inside his gut. 

Several people turned to him but they all had the same disinterested expression. It wasn't disdain, he realised. It was worse. It was as if they had withdrawn from the world and he was an unwelcome interloper, reminding them of the filth they were part of and the desperate lives they now lived. 

'Please?' Banner grabbed the nearest man by his lapels. The man pushed Banner back with the minimum of force but with what seemed the maximum of effort. 

As tears began to fall from his eyes, he remembered the device in his pocket. With trembling hands, he took the device out of his pocket quickly and for one brief moment thought he was going to drop it in his eagerness. A manic laugh escaped him and he started to hyperventilate. 

He grabbed it tightly in time, then held it close to his chest. He tried to control his breathing, to get to grips with his emotion but this just made him more aware of the stench around him. He then opened his hand delicately and held it up to the light from the open slats.  

On the screen there appeared to be a counter indicating that it had been only 90 seconds since he arrived. Just one and a half minutes. Could that be true? Surely it was more than that. It seemed like a small lifetime instead of a mere 90-second interlude of a much longer life. Those bastards at the Institute would pay for this he thought. He would make them fucking pay for this fuck-up. He would release a shitstorm down upon them so great they would be digging themselves out of manure for the rest of their fucking lives. What sick lesson were they trying to teach him? Well, he would teach them. 

This made him feel better, it gave him purpose, it gave him something to fix on. His breath slowed as he sucked it in through his teeth, imagining what he was going to do to that prick Hastings. He would start by raping his whore wife in front of him, ensuring that the doctor saw every last detail.  He would do the same to the Dixon woman too. Maybe he would even do them together. Then, when he was elected, he would use his power to bring down the institute. If there was a future for time travel, he thought, savouring the irony, it would be his to control. 

He moved his thumb over the red button and with one last sneer at the nasty, wretched filth he was surrounded by, he pressed it. 

Nothing happened. He pressed again, this time in panic.  

Nothing. 

Again, and again, and again. 

Still nothing. He became aware that he had begun moaning, loudly. He could feel the tears falling down his face, stinging his eyes just as the recognition of the truth of his situation fully dawned on him. 

He threw to device onto the ground and stomped on it. Its plastic body lay there in pieces beneath his feet. His shoes were unrecognisable, they were caked with crap which was so deep, it soaked his socks. 

He then realised what he had done. He stooped down and picked up the pieces realising the futility of it all. The device was gone, just a lump of plastic covered in shit and piss and vomit. He was stuck. He was trapped. He was here in this stinking train, surrounded by the dredges of civilisation, and there was no way out. 

Deep down he knew who these people were, what they were. Deep down he realised what those fucking doctors had done to him. 

Then he remembered the envelope. 

He reached into his breast pocket and took it out. He held it to the light and ripped it open. Inside was one piece of folded paper. He tore it out with trembling hands and held it to the light. He had to wipe the tears from his eyes before he could read it, the drops falling onto the paper, staining it like a pathetic wax seal. 

He read. 

 *

Dear Mr Banner. 

As you will now realise, you are not at the Nuremberg Rallies. You are not going to witness the spectacle of your hero as he bombastically spreads his creed of hatred. I am sorry for our dishonesty but there was nothing else we could do. 

You see, we have followed you for some time. Your career has been very interesting and there have been many parallels with your hero, I'm sure you will be happy to note. We have followed your rise and recognised the horror that a man like you could unleash. It has, as you know, happened before.  

There are several limits to Time Travel as we have discussed. You can observe but you can't change. We couldn't go back to the '20s and assassinate Hitler because what has happened is fixed. There is no changing. We can't go forward either as this is not fixed so we can't be sure that you would actually become if everything went as you have planned. 

So instead we decided to take the lessons of the past and apply them to the present. You are the present. 

I think it is a fitting irony that the way we decided to dispatch you is the very way your hero dispatched so many others. Some great men and women slaughtered because they were guilty of being Jewish. Something they had no choice about, yet they were condemned. Men, women and children. Yes, children.  

So, we decided that your last journey should be with these very people. We can't save them but we can ask you to share their fate so that, in the last few hours, days or weeks of your life, you would be confronted with who you really are. We are not without humanity though. As you look around you, you will see some very desperate people whom humanity has abandoned. Many have lost their own humanity and the only hope they have is for death to come and rescue them. One of the fundamentals of humanity is the desire to live, to survive. To be stripped of this is the cruellest of atrocities and to hope for it in others, the cruellest of evils. We are not evil and though we have condemned you to this ghastly fate, we pray that the ending comes before what little humanity you possess is taken from you. 

So, I bid you adieu. I can't say it was a pleasure knowing you but we can take great pleasure in what we have done to you. There have been many discussions as to how we can make a difference with our wonderful invention. Please take some comfort in the fact that whilst you are the first, we hope you are not the last. 

Yours 

Drs Hastings, Hastings, Dixon, Dixon & Fellows. 

* 

Banner felt a stab in his heart. He let the paper fall from his hands and disappear into the sludge on the carriage floor.  Outside the train passed through a gap beneath a cold, red stone tower. Banner knew this place. He knew the history; he knew why it was built and he knew the words fashioned in metal over the main gates. 

Arbeit Macht Frei 

Work will set you free. 

[thehiddenlawyer]

Stranger Than Kindness Chapter 12 (Post The Abominable Bride)

Hello everyone!

Enjoy!!

Ao3

Sherlock’s hands were shaking, and he wasn’t sure whether it was from the drugs he’d been using to blur his reality or from excitement at the thought of seeing Molly. It had only been two days since she’d come to visit him, two days since he’d been exiled, but it had felt like a lifetime…multiple lifetimes, with nothing but Molly holding him together.

He left John behind as he ran down the stairs to the morgue, unable to wait for his slower friend, unable to contain himself as he rushed down to her in the morgue.

Sherlock threw the doors open and there she was, wearing something ridiculous but she was running towards him, “I heard you running from down the hall,” she yelled, launching herself at him in the empty hallway, throwing her arms around his neck and he held her, breathing her in as he wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her off the ground, “oh God! Sherlock!”

He walked with her still clinging to him, pushing the swinging doors to the morgue open with his back, needing to give them some privacy as she peppered his face with kisses, making him feel alive, making him feel like he had actually come home.

“I missed you,” she told him, wrapping her legs around his waist, locking her ankles as he set her on the desk, holding her tightly.

“I’ve only been gone two days!” he admonished her, pulling away slightly to wipe her tears away, “and why are you crying?”

“Two extremely long days, and I’m crying because you’re back,” she told him, clutching the lapels of his coat.

“If my coming back is making you cry, maybe I should go away,” he told her, earning a light smack on his arm from his ferocious little tigress.

“That’s not funny!” she said through tears, her eyes dropping to his lips, “it felt like a lifetime without you.”

“Ages,” he murmured, wanting to kiss her more than he had ever wanted anything else in his life. But he found himself pulling away from her kiss, “you uh—you should know I- I uhm—I’ve been…using.”

He didn’t need to say anything beyond that, couldn’t explain himself beyond that, somehow saying the words using cocaine, using morphine in her presence made him feel dirtier than he usually did. He watched disappointment and shock flash through her beautiful brown eyes, watched the way she closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his even as she rolled up his coat and shirt sleeve high enough to see the track marks in his skin. She moaned his name but made no move to move away from him, to run away from the filth that he carried in his veins, the filth that he brought to her.

“I couldn’t—I couldn’t bare being sent away from London, from my friends, from…from you,” he breathed against her ear, “you Molly. I couldn’t stand the idea of being away from you. I couldn’t live through that.”

“I know,” she murmured and kissed him, holding him tightly, “I understand, this time I understand,” she said and kissed him again, “have the withdrawals started?”

“Not yet,” he told her, “I figured I have a few more hours to go,” he said rather casually.

“Will you be wanting to—”

He didn’t let her finish, “yes, if you don’t mind,” he smiled for her, grateful that after everything they’d been through together, after all that they had suffered, after the countless times she had nursed him from failing at sobriety, she still welcomed him into her home, still offered to help him live through the withdrawals. “Molly Hooper,” he breathed her name, cupping her face in his palms, her breath warm against his lips, smelling of the gum she must have been chewing to keep her concentration, “may I kiss you?” “Isn’t—isn’t John with you?” she breathed.

“I don’t care,” he told her, dipping his head down slowly, pressing his mouth to hers, tasting her, feeling that familiar sense of life spreading through him again, thawing the ice that had encased his heart. This was coming home, this was what freedom felt like, this was what he been mourning when he was sent away.

Home.

She clung to him, feeling her smile against his lips before she parted them for him, her fingers automatically finding the strands of hair that she always liked playing with when he kissed her. His Molly made the most incredible sounds as she drew him closer to her, growling in frustration when she pulled away from him, “I can hear John,” she murmured, “take my key and go to my flat tonight, I’ll let Mike know I’m taking the next few days off.”

By the time John walked in, Molly had hopped off her desk and had righted her clothes, Sherlock leaning casually against the wall, playing with his phone, barely glancing up. She’d quickly used her hands to comb his hair back to its usual state, wiping off the bit of lip gloss that marked his mouth. “So, is he back? Moriarty?” she asked, sitting on the stool and watching the two men.

John raised a brow at Sherlock, waiting for him to answer but Sherlock kept on typing furiously on his phone. With an exasperated sigh, John rubbed his eyes before crossing his arms in front of him, “Sherlock says no, that this is some posthumous game. And by the way, he figured all of this out by taking drugs and hallucinating a case about someone called Amelia Ricolleti.”

She made a mental note to ask Mycroft for the list, so she could better help Sherlock over the withdrawals that would start burning through his system soon. “Amelia Ricolleti?” she glanced at Sherlock, felt John’s surprise at her lack of attention at the news that he’d been using, “not that old case I told you about?” Sherlock finally looked up at her, surprise in his light colored eyes, his fingers finally pausing their furious typing, “you told me about that case?”

“Yeah,” she frowned at him like he had lost his mind, “I told you about it, what? Ten years ago? I came across it when I was doing research for my thesis. Don’t you remember?”

She watched the way he rubbed his mouth to hide his smile from Watson, probably remembering the circumstances under which she’d told him about the case. She had just finished writing the thesis that had caused her to lose twenty pounds and countless hours of sleep and so much stress that her hair had started falling out. She had come across the case of the mysterious Mrs. Ricolleti while doing research and thought he would find the mystery intriguing. He was probably remembering how he’d been sitting on the floor of her first apartment while she lounged on the couch in her pajamas, and they’d been heroically getting sloshed together, passing a bottle of whiskey between, munching on a mixture of nuts and cheese. They’d eventually passed out, falling asleep in each other’s arms on the floor. She’d woken up to realize she’d been using his chest as a pillow, his fingers tangled in her hair with one of her throw pillows under his head. That had been the first of countless nights they spent together, simply sleeping in proximity of each other, finding that they slept better with the other’s breath in their ear and heartbeat beneath their palm.

“I deleted the source but kept the information,” he told her, and she rolled her eyes at him when she was sure John wasn’t looking.

“You’re not even the least bit disturbed that he’s using again?” John finally exploded.      

Molly blinked at him, shocked and slightly disturbed by his outburst. “Erm,” she cleared her throat, “he’s an addict, John. He’s also human, he’ll relapse every now and then, but he always managed to get his act together.”

“Why are you defending him?” John snapped.

She had to remind herself that John didn’t know that she knew the truth, thought that she didn’t realize he’d been exiled, sent away by his own brother to his death instead of going to prison for high treason and cold-blooded murder. “I’m not defending him,” she said quietly, “I’m just reminding you that addiction is a disease, and contrary to what everyone including Sherlock think, he’s human.”

Going home that night with five days off from work under her belt, her heart in her throat, she closed the door behind her, smiling at the familiar Belstaff hanging from its rightful peg. But any joy she felt, any excitement, any seconds she took to relish his being home disappeared when she heard him calling her from upstairs. “Molly!” he yelled, panic evident in his voice.

She took the steps two at a time, taking off her coat as she went, “coming darling! I’m coming! I’m here!” she yelled.

He was pale and draped around the toilet bowl in her en suite, covered in sweat, his white shirt clinging to his wet skin as he heaved. His sleeves were rolled up and she saw they were red, the imprints of his nails from when he’d tried to itch that invisible scratch that would torment him. “I’m here,” she told him, throwing her coat to the ground, landing hard on her knees on the tiles of the bathroom floor but couldn’t care, stroking his curls away from his face. Her phone went off in her pocket and she saw that it was the list form Mycroft. She quickly read it, committing it to memory before turning her attention to him. She wondered if he’d been trying to kill himself before boarding the flight, but she pushed the thought out of her mind.

Every muscle in his body seemed to clench at once, everything in his body flexing simultaneously, his hand coming to rest against his stomach, his eyes squeezing shut as tears dribbled out from beneath his long lashes. The other fist he pounded into the tile, he was murmuring, his words and tone breaking her heart, his thoughts dark and all too familiar to her. He was babbling, and he wouldn’t stop for another hour or two, she knew that. The cocaine always caused depression, always created anguish beyond her understanding, and it lasted longer than necessary in her opinion.

She reached for a wash cloth, holding it under ice-cold tap water then bringing it to wet the back of his neck, “shhh,” she murmured, pressing her lips to his ear to get his attention, “don’t fight it Sherlock, let go,” she told him, taking the hand he pressed into his stomach and bringing it to her lap as he reared up, retching. “It’s alright,” she promised him, “it’s going to be alright. You and me? We’ve done this before, remember?”

During one of his more lucid moments throughout the next 24 hours, he’d been curled in her lap, completely naked because the feel of anything but Molly touching him was too much. She sat on the sofa with her legs stretched in front of her on the coffee table, half asleep, wishing they were at least in bed but he had started getting cabin fever upstairs, needing a change of scenery. She was stroking his hair, dozing off as he slept fitfully in her lap, jerking out of sleep every few moments, startled by some thought, by some idea, by something triggering in his body that shocked him into consciousness.

“Molly,” he’d said softly.

“Mmm?” she’d managed to hum, instantly alert to his voice, “what is it darling?”

“Do you still think—do you still believe I’m still—still worth something?” his voice was quiet, and she knew he was in that gray haze between consciousness and sleep, the drugs seeping out of his system, leaving reality a hazy concept. She always thought these were the most honest versions of Sherlock she would ever see, the questions and comments he made were lacked the filters and spin he always put on himself, the Sherlock that not even he knew existed.

“You’re still worth everything,” she told him, pressing her palm against the side of his face, his skin clammy against her palm, “you’ll always be worth everything to me Sherlock, nothing will change that, nothing can.”

“Promise?” he asked in that soft voice.

“I promise,” she murmured, rubbing his curls between her fingers.

He rubbed his cheek against her thigh, like a cat seeking comfort, sighing in contentment, “my Molly,” he murmured softly before falling asleep at last.

[lilthreadsclothes]

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Moore’s help clear his headand the confidence to talk about the results we spent just everything was goodand it was the wild man anywhere work on a world means just that they were most of the game made in the sky straight into a lot of toxins are just fucking the doctors told Tony that 96 of the spam has been damaged buys lifestyleand Nick with very John’s consent is hope the month for waivers been what is nine released a lot of stuff you know sweetie love you I love romance be begging over the crabapple systemsand I’ll figure something is gonna repair itself Tony can find even himself the toxins of the making of the spine his body slowly start to produce healthy spine massively improving the Johnson starting a family Islamic anyway but not to the one in a company to test our before he can find IVs enough to bring down his biological age of 36 the quality respond to the point Tony has another extensiveand exhaustive round of tests on his brainand spine from for Tony to find determination to change my life bring biological life it’s Tony’s final results day in our autopsy will be good news is find out tiny and half 1 million of the grasping good his familyand friends return women already I can see a change as he knows he rising on each other for an IEP is to be very different men all writing sadly my must be nice to see boy in a communityand have a real sparkle to maybe didn’t have before or because of his mobility today is as just remind ourselves house of the law some you had to go through the various organs of the year the doctors were concerned about in 72 loss on the use of the new test results to come up with an overall biologic lidocaine vehicle we start with Tony’s before visiting autopsy Tony was smoking over 100 fags await join today which is the 27 year old sons with a biological age essay to Nancy was having second time around on the retestand result in is really really good this two levels of undercoverand one is reading tacitly dayand see how the lungs are working second that is at a deeper level which has to take several years so fight so now that Cronin coming upand the start of lots of realtor on the couchand some small improvement how well this Tony images in the cocaine we having it was poison in his brain he’s smoke to change only snow of a 3 g account in a single session getting Tony’s brain a biological age of 42 by Vanessa guide implies any drinking that I think you are glad that before go anywhere is bad for Stiles to have you give you come back on the Coke a bit humming now time for me more about what about a way to you kind down at oleate of the way to sell us a logical sale was moving I’m still in my way on what what it was before look at the praiseand we can just get this down as we did with alone say the plane is that yes now be a real positive step in my direct is excited about mumbling on on on a significant to the brain to move on to the 35 there is Tony’s final had been under attack Tony drink up to a bottle of brandyand night is it was taking a pounding so no one is in the chill 4811 autopsy Shelton the kind of booze right downand say what difference is my plea presences to not 20 years off right delivers a very high was an organ it’s got millionsand millions of cellsand when you get a chance to start recovering it will grab that with two handsand make yourself better is exactly what we’ve seen with your liverand Hudson provedand finally Tony’s new lifestyle brought several biological age down from 36and will EMS the buffet has to boost unaided now nowhere for nothing now because some of the news for you will know you guys lacerations to stop family right yetand there were some complications with dysfunction spent enough time around but we do have some good news for youand that is that with all your work that has improved a lot is not quite completed box in normal range up but it’s a lot better than it was best not to their original figure was 96 had the facts Lassen Center sunglasses way looking for is actually come dine on just over 10 to 85 11 you now the non native progress so guys maybe Barryand I went to Cairo I’m doing jumping assassin often is as income plus reducing the factsand weight nearly 4 times more Tony’s farmand now healthy is Nicholas Johnson starting a family could soon be back to normal my be very unless you the speedy multiset in his last five minutes is better than any line of that also Goldie’s loudmouth rushing you must about flies over to run around screaming for things in the airand run assay on positiveand my life is a nice one so you deviate from the path To Start with in Our Main Screenand Shied A Few Timesand I Agree with Even a Love It 16 Ways Months Plus Shabby Market Going to Guide It Might Be Looking to Do. BUT THEY CONTINUE TO MOVE FORWARD WITH ALL THE NEW TECHNOLOGIES THE AUTONOMOUS DRIVER AND THEN JUST WHAT’S WHAT’S PLANNED FOR THE FUTURE I CAN DEFINITELY BE PART OF WHAT GOOBER IS PLANNING ON AS FAR THEIR STRATEGIC BUSINESS PLAN GOING FORWARD OKAY NEXT WE HAVE X 22’S REPORT SAM FROM THIS WEEK IN AUGUST 17 AND THE REPORTING ON THE MSN ECONOMIC AGENDA OBVIOUSLY IS FAILED THERE IS A RECOVERY HAPPENING NOW AND I THINK THIS IS JUST CURRENTLY AND IF YOU BREAK IT DOWN THE WAY TRAP JUST BROKEN DOWN ONE OF HIS THEM IN ONE OF HIS BRIEFINGS HE WENT TO THE PROCESS OF ESTABLISHING MANUFACTURING IS COMING BACK IN THE US SO THAT’S ONE OF HIS BIG MARKERS ARE TRYING TO BRING MANUFACTURE TO THE S AND ALSO BRING BACK THE JOBS See Other related products: I Create Worlds With Words What's Your Superpower Writer Vintage T Shirt

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339: Healing Trauma, Releasing Shame, Finding Joy & Becoming a Super Attractor With Gabrielle Bernstein

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339: Healing Trauma, Releasing Shame, Finding Joy & Becoming a Super Attractor With Gabrielle Bernstein

Child: Welcome to my Mommy’s podcast.

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This podcast is sponsored by Jigsaw Health, my source for magnesium. You probably know, if you’ve read my blog, that magnesium is responsible for over 300 biochemical reactions in the body. It impacts blood pressure, metabolism, immune function, and many other aspects of health, including hormones. It’s known as the master mineral and it’s one of the few supplements I take regularly. And I have found a specific way to take it that works best for me in very specific forms because if magnesium is taken in the wrong way it can lead to digestive upset or if it’s taken too quickly it can cause all kinds of problems. So, I take two supplements. One called MagSRT which is a slow release form of the dimagnesium malate. The slow release technology makes it easier on the digestive system. So I don’t get any of the digestive disturbance that comes with some forms of magnesium. I take this form in the morning and at lunch. So, two capsules with breakfast, two capsules with lunch. And at night, I take a different product MagSoothe, which is magnesium glycinate which is magnesium bound with the amino acid glycine to help sleep. And in combination, I noticed the biggest effect from those two particular products. You can check them both out and save by going to jigsawhealth.com/wellnessmama. And the code wellness10 will give you $10 off any order.

Katie: Hello, and welcome to the Wellness Mama podcast. I’m Katie, from wellnessmama.com, and now, wellnesse.com, that’s wellness with an ‘e’ on the end, which is our new line of personal care products, like hair care, toothpaste, and hand sanitizer, that are not just safe and natural, but work better than their chemical counterparts.

This episode, I’m really excited to share with you today, because it’s all about healing trauma, releasing shame, finding joy, and becoming a super attractor. I’m here with Gabrielle Bernstein, who is the number one New York Times best-selling author of books like “The Universe has Your Back,” and “Super Attractor,” her newest book, which launched last year. She’s been featured on everything from Oprah’s SuperSoul Sunday to almost every TV show, the Dr. Oz show, all kinds of networks, and she co-hosted the Guinness world record largest guided meditation, along with Deepak Chopra.

The reason I wanted to have her on is that she also has trauma in her past, and has recovered and then let her recovery become a path to helping other people. And since trauma recovery has been a big part of my story these last couple of years, I’ve gotten many, many questions about it, and I don’t consider myself qualified as an expert in mental health or trauma recovery, but I’m trying to connect you guys with more people who are a good resource for that, and I think Gabby has a lot of great resources, and I’m very excited to share her, and share those resources with you today. Gabby, welcome. Thank you so much for being here.

Gabby: I’m so happy to be with you.

Katie: It is such an honor to finally get to chat with you. I’ve read several of your books and I’ve known of your work for a really long time. And the last two years for me have been a journey through healing from trauma and kind of recovery that led to like a dramatic 80 pound weight loss and just completely changed my life. And since I’ve shared my story, so many people have come with questions of how did you work through this and where do you start? And I have similar trauma or a similar story. Where do I even begin? And I think you’re just such an amazing voice for this, that I knew I had to have you on to talk. And if you don’t mind, I would love to hear a little bit of your story as we start because you also have a really incredible story of recovery and healing.

Gabby: Well, first of all, I want to honor you because anyone who is brave enough to face trauma is a warrior. Truly. It’s, uh, it’s something that I think often people are too terrified to face, which is why so many people become addicted or why they become, it’s all the reasons why we run. So when we do become brave enough to even listen to a podcast with this topic, that’s a big deal. So whoever’s listening right now, God bless you and to you, I just want to really bow to you for your bravery because I’ve been through it myself and I really am going to say that’s what I’m most proud of about myself today is my bravery and my willingness to go to the places that scare me so that I could come out the other side so we can start there.

I’ve been a spiritual teacher for 15 years, but prior to that I was quite the opposite. In my early twenties, I was running a nightlife PR company. And I was running, running, running, running from something I was unaware of. I didn’t know what I was running from, but I was severely anxious all the time. I had a severe codependency addiction, constantly in and out of relationships that didn’t serve me. And I ultimately became quite addicted to cocaine and alcohol, but primarily to cocaine, which if anyone, unfortunately, had the unfortunate experience of being addicted to cocaine, you know, it’s a very, very dark drug, but at the same time, it’s a drug that takes you down. So I was quite blessed by the age of 25 to be really on my knees ready to change because it was life or death for me.

And there was a voice within me in the deepest throes of my addiction that knew I was running from something but didn’t know what it was. There was a voice within me that wanted more. I had stacks of self-help books next to my bed. I would constantly read through them and journal and seek. I was seeking, seeking, seeking, all the while using. But by the grace of God, at age 25, I made the decision to get clean and sober and I made that commitment, not just to myself, but ultimately to the world in a big way. My decision to get sober was the catalyst for my own personal growth, but also my spiritual awakening, which then led me to become a self-proclaimed spirit junkie, the author of now eight spiritual self-help books and most importantly, a shame-shifter.

Somebody who really made the commitment to, to live with vulnerability and authenticity so that I could take away the shame of addiction and trauma and be a voice for recovery. My recovery began with my sobriety, but it continued far beyond that. My sober recovery was one step, but then I kept running. I was running for many, many years through workaholism and finally I really hit another bottom with that to only crack into a memory of childhood trauma. So, in 2016, I had a dream of being sexually abused as a child and then being an adult confronting it. When I woke up, I thought to myself, hell no, I am not going to touch that. I am not ever speaking of that. I’m not going anywhere with that. Then I was in a therapy session days later to be prompted to remember it fully. Not completely, but to accept the remembrance of that moment. When we’re children and we have these types of traumas, we can dissociate from them, which was the case for me. But as soon as I accepted my experience as a child, I realized that’s why I use drugs and alcohol. That’s why I’ve been a workaholic. That’s why I have anxiety attacks. That’s why I have chronic pain. That’s why, that’s why, that’s why, and that conversation, that’s why I went on you know, I could go on for hours of all the “that’s why’s.” TMJ, sleep issues, everything. So since 2016 I’ve been on an extremely devoted journey of healing from that traumatic remembrance and from the traumas of my history. Uh, and most recently I’m still in trauma recovery. I’m 16 months postpartum and when I had my child, about four months after I gave birth, I was blessed with postpartum depression.

I say blessed because it deepened my personal growth journey once again. Whenever we hit these bottoms, we’re led to more. So the trauma healing has become even more grounded. And even more freedom has come from having been to the darkest moment of my life, which was the postpartum depression. So that’s a very sort of, a quick way of saying this has been a long journey of recovery, but I want to really acknowledge that throughout this journey of recovery, I have accepted fully and completely, but every single experience I’ve had has been exactly as it’s needed to be so that I could become the woman that I am today. And so that I could face those places within me that scared me. So that I could live to tell what freedom really looks like and help guide people spiritually and through psychological practices and methods that I have garnered over the years to really help others become free and to know what mental illness is and to know what trauma feels like and looks like. And to know what addiction is from a very vulnerable and authentic place is what has allowed me to, in many cases, help people save their own lives. So I’m grateful for all of it.

Katie: I love that. And I’m so, I love that you brought up the term “shame” and that term “shame-shifter,” which is so perfect because I think for women especially, they certainly… Way too many women have been through some form of trauma and we hear the awful statistics about that. But then there’s all these other layers that come after it. I feel like the shame and the shame attached to things like mental illness or postpartum depression or miscarriage or like there’s all these aspects of like a female existence, there’s just so much shame attached to. And I know like that was kind of a long process for me unraveling and trying to take all those layers of shame and guilt and all of the emotions that came with that often. And even realizing like, you, I’m very driven and I’ve felt like that’s been an advantage to me in life. And so I worried if I work through this, am I going to lose my edge? Am I going to stop being driven? Am I going to stop being as productive? And it’s just, there’s so many layers, so I’d love to go a little deeper on, for women especially, but anyone listening, how can we start shifting from that shame to stepping more into vulnerability and into the lessons of that and like to you, now having gratitude for that?

Gabby: Oh yeah. Well, first of all, I just wanted to speak to you directly in terms of, you know, am I going to lose my edge? You know, I think that drive that traumatized people have is actually, you’re driven by fear. So yes, sometimes traumatized people can become immobilized and do nothing. And then folks like you and I can fight, flight, freeze. We were in flight, right? And in that flight state, you can sometimes be very overly productive because it’s another form of running. So I just wanted to acknowledge that and as you’re still in your recovery and you’re in this, this beautiful journey that, sorry, I don’t mean to be like coaching you right now, but I just, I just heard that and I wanted to respond to it ,that you won’t lose your edge, that you will lose the edges and it will become a much more fluid way of creating and you’ll be able to do less and attract more. So I just want to really be a voice of hope for you and I imagine that you’re already on that path. As it relates to shame, so many people don’t even recognize their shame, not speaking for myself. I was a year into my recovery, my trauma recovery. It was a year since I had remembered this trauma and we did a workshop that I was leading and there was another teacher co-leading it with me and I sat in on her program and in her program she did a whole bit on shame. And I sat there in that room for the first time, after having, at that point, probably a decade of personal and spiritual growth, and a decade of teaching and writing behind me.

And in that moment was when I really looked at myself and said, Holy shit, this is all about shame. I am carrying the shame of the abuser. I’m carrying the shame of being abused. I’m carrying the shame of being an addict. I’m carrying the shame of not feeling good enough and carrying the shame of being unworthy. I’m carrying the shame of all the wreckage from my past I’m carrying…but mostly I’m carrying the shame of being a child who was neglected and felt unlovable. Because when we have moments in our childhood that dissociate us from, that separate us from the God within us, from the love within us, the story that’s built up around us is that I am unlovable and I am unworthy. And being in that place of feeling unlovable is a very shameful place for a child to be. So the person, the child, will do anything they can to avoid that feeling. And that becomes a lifetime of avoiding that feeling. That was the experience I had. So having a recognition of my shame, which came a decade into my career was a really big turning point for me.

Katie: Yeah, I think that’s really profound and it seems like many people, I mean, I would guess the vast majority make it to adulthood with some version of that kind of filter in their head of “I’m not lovable or I’m not worthy.” Or for me it was, I’m not good enough. And I was always a striving to be, to prove myself good enough and I don’t know if it was the same for you, but like you mentioned gratitude. I had to realize kind of now at this point in my journey looking back, I could be grateful for the lessons and the things that I had learned as a result of the trauma and still not have to hold onto the shame and not have to hold onto the pain. But there was like a fear in releasing that at the beginning because I felt like those things kept me safe for a long time and I had to acknowledge like these mental filters I had kept me safe. They protected me for a long time. Or even the physical weight kind of was a shield that I used to protect myself for a long time and now I can let it go, but that doesn’t mean I have to lose the lesson. And in fact, like you said, I loved that, that was a perfect line. You don’t lose your edge, but you soften your edges. That’s such a perfect reframe of that. And, and you’re right, I think it’s like we also are a constant journey of that. I thought I had dealt with pretty much all of it and I was feeling in this great place. And then with the lockdowns and quarantine, the first week I was like viscerally angry and I didn’t want to eat anything and I was working out nonstop and I just like felt like I wanted to get in a fight and I couldn’t figure out what it was at first.

And eventually talking through it with a therapist, I realized because of my trauma I had resolved, I would never feel helpless again. So I had put all these systems in place so that I never felt helpless. I could always be in control. And then this big thing happened that I had no control over and that helplessness came raring back. And so I had to face it once again. But in a sense it was also a beautiful opportunity because I was able to acknowledge that and work through it and kind of face an aspect that I thought I had already dealt with. And it’s, I love your perspective and you’ve mentioned that it’s in many of your books about finding the gratitude and finding the lessons and being grateful in all of that. I think you just, you frame it so beautifully.

Gabby: Well first, Katie, I want to just to acknowledge that you are not alone in that, that first week of coronavirus re-traumatization. So first of all, I mean, I was right there with you. Rage was my number one emotion. But the world right now is in a pre-traumatized state and particularly people who are folks who do have deeper traumatic wounds are very kicked up, very activated. And for anyone out there who doesn’t have the right resources or the right therapeutic guidance or even psychiatric guidance, if that’s what’s necessary, you may feel as though you’re so activated at this time because the deep root desire of a traumatized person is to feel in control. That’s my belief because we’ve been experienced an experience that has been so out of our control that we will do whatever we can to stay in control in order to feel safe and that was what you were saying about I will never be helpless again. That’s another form of saying I will never be out of control again. So when a pandemic hits and our control is taken from us, we can no longer safely walk to the grocery store and walk in with our child or we can no longer send our kids to school or whatever the ways that we’ve created a life that felt seemingly safe are taken from us. The traumatic events from our history are going to be extremely activated. And that’s for anyone, whether you have severe trauma or not, that we are all going through a pre-traumatized state and I say pre-traumatized because we can work through it now so that we don’t come out with PTSD. Or honestly I’m going to be a, I’m going to be writing books for a very long time and there will be guidance for us when we do come out of this and there will be a lot of PTSD and there’ll be support then.

So I just want to just also acknowledge anyone that’s listening right now is in some way open to personal growth at this time. So it’s taking this experience that we’re going through right now where we are absolutely activated, absolutely re-traumatized and retriggered feeling completely out of control, which is the biggest fear of a person who has any kind of history of trauma. And even those of you who don’t remember or don’t recognize it, the feeling of out of control is very, very severe. And that’s when we can really begin to rely on a spiritual foundation. That’s when we can rely on a prayer practice, a meditation practice, and even therapeutic practices for grounding ourselves in regulating our own nervous system. Because when we are in a triggered state, our cortisol levels are shot through the roof, which then creates inflammation in our body, which makes our gastrointestinal tract really malfunction, which makes our physical pain get exacerbated, which makes our relationships out of whack and ultimately puts us into a vibrational stance that’s very frantic.

And in that place we can’t attract the, the opportunities, the abundance, the connections, the support that we need right now. So this is a time right now for learning how to self-regulate. Frankly, it’s always been a time for learning how to self-regulate, but now more than ever, and so we can talk about that a bit. I’m happy to give some tools on this podcast as well. But I will answer your question or speak to the concept of gratitude because what we can be most grateful for right now in the midst of this pandemic is, that we can be grateful for being given the opportunity to choose a different path. Right now we can go through this numb and dissociate or we can wake up. We can wake up to a path of personal growth, a path of spiritual development, a path of a different way of perceiving the world, a way of seeing the world through the lens of love, seeing more oneness seen through the lens of compassion, feeling more connected, feeling awakened to a spiritual relationship. That’s an opportunity that I’m grateful for.

Katie: I love that. And I would love to go into the idea of how to self-regulate a little bit more because that’s been very top of mind for me. And I also find myself saying that to my kids quite a bit right now cause I think even older kids are having some of these similar experiences in trying to navigate this sort of out of control feeling and all the uncertainty. And I love the quote from Viktor Frankel that says “between stimulus and response, there’s a space. And in that space is our power to choose our response. And in our response lies our growth and our freedoms.” And I think you’re right, like we are in, if we look at it this way, we’re in a very unique opportunity of growth right now and almost like, I heard someone refer to it as a cocoon of sorts.

Like we are in this tough time, but we have the option to transform through it and to emerge better on the other side. So I’d love to hear the tips you have for how do you self-regulate, especially for all the other parents listening who maybe are overwhelmed right now and have kids at home and are navigating a new reality.

Gabby: These are tools that I want every mom or dad or person, human being listening to master. And as you master these methods, you then can give them to your children because they’re tools that you could give to a child that would change the course of their life. It’s ultimately a resilient child. As a child who knows how to self-regulate. And these are tools that most of us were never gifted as children, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever. So I’ll get into the kid part first, but let’s first put our own oxygen mask on and take care of ourselves as the parents or as the adults. So one really beautiful empowering method that I use all throughout the day is a hold. It’s a heart hold where you place your left hand on your heart and your right hand on your belly. And on the inhale you extend your diaphragm. You let your diaphragm really just move out and extend, on the exhale you relax your diaphragm, you inhale out and you can close your eyes while we do this. And exhale and release.

Inhale out, exhale and release, inhale out and exhale and release. And on the inhale and the exhale, you can now begin to say to yourself, and I’ll say first, but you can say to yourself, silently, I am safe. I am safe, I am safe, I am safe, I am safe, I am safe. Just take a deep breath in and hold that feeling of safety and on the exhale, just let it go. That simple practice practiced in about a minute can regulate your energy. What it’s doing is the breath is actually sending oxygen to your brain, stimulating your vagus nerve, which is going to regulate… It’s the nerve that regulates your entire nervous system, relaxes your gastrointestinal system. It will just get you back to a state of peace and then keep going. If it feels good, go for more. You can do it in the moment.

You can do it in the bath. You can do it when you wake up in the morning and you’re lying in bed. You can do it when you wake up in the middle of the night and you need to fall back asleep. Just hold and say, I am safe. If I am safe, doesn’t resonate with you. You can say, I am taken care of, I am supported, I am loved. Whatever affirmation makes you feel comfortable. It makes you feel grounded. And again, I’d love to share this, you know, for people to share this with their children. The most important thing that we can be doing right now for self-regulation also is really releasing our rage because I think that that pent up rage is what causes so much of the reactivity in our life. And this is really taking from the work of Dr. John Sarno who wrote books like Healing Back Pain and The Mindbody Prescription and his whole belief system is that chronic pain is the direct result of impermissible rage.

So right now we are, are definitely being activated and in that activation, this rage that’s just been brewing within us for decades is busting out. So one thing you can do is just go for a walk and scream it out. You can really literally just scream it out into the woods if it’s possible, a method that I’ve been practicing that my friend Nicole Sachs had taught me what she called a journal speak. I call it rage on the page. I raged for 20 minutes in my journal. This is a method she gave me over about a month ago. And I was like, this has changed my life. Twenty minutes of raging on the page in the journal and then 20 minutes of meditation. And what I added to that was actually binaural music or bilateral music from Spotify where I just listened to this bilateral music, which stimulates both sides of the brain and really calms that lower part of the brain so that you can then be in more of your resource brain and balance out your emotions. So that’s 20 minutes of writing all the rage on the page while you’re listening to this bilateral music. And it’s stimulating both sides of the brain, which is when the music comes in one ear and then comes in the other and then really meditating to that music for about another 20 minutes. Now, if you don’t have 40 minutes, my child’s sleeping for three hours in middle of the day, you have six children. So you do not have 40 minutes, do it for 10 minutes, whatever you can do.

Katie: I love that and I think people maybe often underestimate how just saying those same things to ourselves can have such a dramatic impact. And I definitely discounted that for a really long time before I actually tried it myself. When you talk about rage, that really resonates because after my trauma in high school, I shut down my emotions, I remember consciously doing it. Like I will not feel again, so I will not be hurt again. And I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t experience anger that I knew of for 16 years until I actually did that. I kind of went through this almost like rage therapy and when that finally like broke back open and I was able to feel it was like this, you know, decades of emotion came flooding out. I did a similar thing with tapping and the person I was working with, she had me say, you know, even though I am experiencing whatever it was right now, I love and accept myself and I love and accept myself as I now choose.

And then whatever the new state I was going to move into was and those first few times it was like I didn’t believe myself saying that I love and accept myself. It was hard. Like I cried. It was hard to even hear those words because I knew they weren’t even true. And then I felt that shift. Like it did slowly shift over time and it changed my mental state. And I know you talk about this in Super Attractor and you’ve talked about it in some of your other books as well, but let’s talk about that. How can we start to like move into alignment with those new mental states or like in Super Attractor, like into joy because I think that’s so profound when you can make that shift.

Gabby: Well, first of all, I’m really glad that you mentioned EFT. So emotional freedom technique is excellent for anyone who’s traumatized or anxious. And why don’t I give you one more tool and then I’ll talk about another tool which is about really reprogramming our thinking and it’s a method from Super Attractor. But one thing you can also do is you can tap on this one specific point and these are energy meridians and when they’re tapped on they actually can really release that fight or flight state. So the point is called the gamut point, but I like to refer to it, Katie, as the “holy shit point.” And this is when you’re really activated. And so it’s between your pinky finger and your ring finger and maybe in your show notes you can link to an image of it or something and you tap on this point and you can still use that affirmation, I am safe or I am well, or you can even say I deeply and completely love and accept myself.

Even though I feel anxious, I deeply and completely love and accept myself that point, I would tap that point all day long, early in my trauma recovery when I was in this sort of re-traumatized state, I would walk around all day just tapping that point and it’s that little point, that little skin between the pinky finger and the ring finger on the top of the hand. So we can find an image of it for everybody. But, um, that’s a really nice practice that I would highly recommend if you are new to EFT and you just want to tap to feel instant relief, that’s a big one. What I want to really call out as a practice that you’ve just recognized is how do we change our thinking? How do we change our behavioral patterns at this time? And in my book, Super Attractor, the most important method in the book, and the book has methods for manifesting a life beyond your wildest dreams, but really their methods for feeling good.

That’s what the whole book is about, is feeling good. Because when we feel good, we become a super attractor. So the method that’s in the book that I think is so valuable that’s especially for right now, it’s kind of like a cognitive behavioral therapy method because it’s about rethinking. So it’s called the choose again method. And the first step is to witness the negative fear-based thought that you have on repeat. So for me, I’ll just use myself as example. For me right now, when I had postpartum depression and anxiety, I suffered from insomnia. And right now I’m about to try to conceive again and I’m nervous about my sleep because I had been using melatonin and some other sleep aids that I won’t be able to use when I’m pregnant. So I’m trying to just learn how to sleep again and I’m nervous about it.

So my story has been oh God, I’m scared of my sleep. I’m scared I’m not gonna be able to sleep. And so I’ve been using this choose, again, method all throughout the day. So the first step is to notice the fearful thought and notice how it makes you feel. So the fearful thought for me is I’m scared about sleeping, then sends this pang of anxiety into my chest. Okay? So I’m familiar with the thought, now I know what it is. I’m calling it out. And then referencing, there it is. There’s my fear. And the second step is to forgive yourself for having the thought. Now, Katie, this is major because if we don’t forgive ourselves for… when we forgive ourselves for the thought, what we do is we recognize that the thought is not who I am. The thought that I have insomnia is not the truth of who I am.

That’s an old story. That’s an old ego-based belief that I’m bringing into the present, but when I forgive myself for having the thought, I disconnect myself from the belief that that thought is who I am. Now I unpack that a lot in the book, but I want to just really highlight that even in this moment when I say I forgive myself for thinking that I have, a sleep issue, it immediately dissolves the thought for me because it’s saying I am not my past. I am in a different place in this present moment. Now, the third step is the fun and crucial step, which is to choose again. The choose again method is about reaching for the next best feeling thought. So if we’re going to use my example, I can start reaching. I can say, well, I’m no longer in a panic disorder because I’ve treated the postpartum experience and I’m not where I was a year ago.

I have the resources and the support system. I’ve never felt more grounded than I do today. After all that I’ve been through and all that I have faced, I have a connection to a spiritual guidance system that can help me through this period. I can accept that my sleep might not be as great if I’m not on melatonin, but I will change my new patterns and accept each day as it goes. Or I can also go to the place of saying, when I’m pregnant, I will be tired and that will help me sleep. So just reaching for the thoughts that you believe in, proactively guide you out of the story that you’ve been hooked into. And it’s these stories that we grasp onto that become belief systems and the beautiful teacher, Abraham Hicks say that a belief is just a thought that you keep thinking.

So when we just repeat that thought and repeat that thought and repeat that thought, that becomes a belief system. And for me, I have just been totally in acceptance that that thought doesn’t have to be mine right now. And I can choose to believe, through the practice of rethinking this and choosing again, I can choose to believe that I’m going to be tired when I’m pregnant and sleep beautifully and that my body does remember how to sleep and my brain does remember how to sleep and that I have all these great sleep hygiene routines and I can really reprogram the way I’m thinking. Did that, did that make sense to you Katie?

Katie: Yeah, absolutely. Yeah, I think that’s such an important point. And I think, like I said, I didn’t believe just how profound these things were until I started actually changing the internal things I was saying to myself. And you know, you hear all those quotes and things about how your body listens to everything your mind says and all of that but it really is incredible when you actually start reprogramming that.

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And like the other thing you talk about like Super Attractor, I loved it. It was all about kind of like getting into that alignment. And then in doing so, being able to attract the things that you want and need in your life. Can you kind of explain the concept of that? And then, and then also maybe some of the roadblocks that happen when people are attracting things they don’t want and how we can fix that.

Gabby: Yeah. I think that anytime we’re not attracting what we want or attracting things we don’t want, it’s just a sign of misalignment. It’s a sign that we’ve been thinking a thought for too long that we don’t want and has become a belief system. That belief system has created a vibration within us, an energetic state. That energetic state has been expressed out into the world and that is what we’re getting back. It’s being served back up to us. So it’s really about just recognizing that the energy that we express is a boomerang and our thoughts inform our energy and our energy informs our actions and our actions are picked up and put back to us. And as well as our energy, even if we don’t take any action, the feelings that we have are reflected back to us in our experiences. So practicing a book like Super Attractor will put you on a path of undoing the belief systems and the patterns and the energetic state that has kept you in the misalignment and kept you from attracting what you genuinely want in your life. By undoing those patterns and belief systems, you start to restore a greater sense of presence and peace within you that ultimately changes the direction of your life.

Katie: Gotcha. Okay. So can you kind of walk us through, in a little bit more detail, like I know you have the four step action method for kind of creating the life you want. Can you walk us through that?

Gabby: Well, I know the whole book is filled with methods. One of them was the choose again, method that I gave you. Other methods could include, there’s a daily design method, which I think would be very valuable for folks right now because right now a lot of people are feeling immobilized. They’re feeling stuck. In that state, they don’t have much… They wake up in the morning, maybe turn right to the news or social media or whatever’s going on. But instead, what would happen if you woke up in the morning, you opened a journal or even your phone and you answered these three questions or four questions actually. How do I want to feel today? Who do I want to be today? The answers to something like that like I want to be a good mother. I want to be a happy person today or whatever.

So how do I want to feel today? Who do I want to be today? What do I want to give today and what do I want to receive today? When we answer those four questions, we design our day. We set the day up the way that we want, the way that we’re intending. Even simply making those statements to ourselves silently or writing them down in the morning, sets ourselves up to win. It sets an intention and it redirects us off of the news, the drama, the stories, the emails, the text messages, the fear from yesterday, and it redirects the energetic state that we’re in into a place that we want to be in today. So I would love for people to start using that daily design.

Katie: I love that. That seems like something great to do with kids as well, which was going to be one of my next questions. You’re a mom so how can we foster this mindset from like a very early age with our kids and I know obviously I’m hearing some of the stuff you’ve already said and thinking this would be great to do with my kids, especially that four step formula, but I’m curious how you’re approaching it as a mom even with the really little ones to kind of hopefully give them this foundation so that they’re not having to address some of these things as an adult like many of us are, but they can start from a young age, having this mindset.

Gabby: The absolute most valuable thing I believe as a mom, that a parent could do right now is read these two books. One of them is called Trauma-Proofing Your Kids and it’s a book by the leading trauma therapist, Peter Levine, Dr. Peter Levine, and the other book is by Dan Siegel, which I’m sure you’ve read some of the Dan Siegel books and this book is called No-Drama Discipline. I cannot recommend these two books enough. No-Drama Discipline is frankly blowing my mind because what it’s teaching is how to connect with your child’s feelings and to validate their feelings, honor their feelings. Because when a child is in an overactive state and acting out and doing something that’s inappropriate or whatever it may be, they’re not in their resource part of their brain. They’re not in their upstairs brain. They’re in their downstairs brain. And that downstairs brain is emotion.

It’s all the feelings, whereas the upstairs brain can problem solve, but we can��t just force them into that problem solving brain because that doesn’t work. Throwing them into a timeout saying you’re not, you know, what are you doing? You shouldn’t be doing this. It just throws them into more of a triggered state. So if we just can regulate them by just being really, really recognizing their emotions, their feelings, validating their feelings, even though we may not say that what they did was correct, we can validate their feelings about it and it’s all about connection. And then once you felt that connection, that’s when you can redirect. I could do an entire podcast with you on this work. But Dan Siegel’s work and Peter Levine are just blowing my mind personally and as a parent and professionally actually because I’m just like, I got to teach this work everywhere I can. It’s unbelievable.

Katie: I’m definitely going to check out both of those because having been through trauma myself, that’s something I think about a lot with my kids. And I know obviously every parent, you know, with very rare exceptions or like mental illness, every parent wants to do the best they can with their kids. But yet I think so, like we talked about the beginning of so many people make it to adulthood with these filters or these scripts of not being good enough or not being worthy or not being lovable. And so I’ve thought about that a lot in the recent years as my kids get older. It’s like, how can we as parents better navigate this and still teach them and help them learn important life lessons, but also make sure that they get to adulthood with the feeling of being loved and worthy and valuable and good enough. And I’m sure like we still will do many things wrong or wish we could do things a little better as parents. But, um, I can’t wait to check out both of those books. How old is your little guy now?

Gabby: He’s 16 months.

Katie: Oh, that’s awesome. That’s such a great age.

Gabby: He’s so much fun. He’s so cool. Yeah. Yeah. It’s been, and that’s been the silver lining of this whole experience is that I actually, we have full time childcare, not full, you know, five days a week childcare when we’re working, because my husband and I run our business, but we don’t have that right now. And it’s been really a blessing even though I have a lot less hours in the day. I have this bond that when I went through the postpartum depression, I didn’t, I lost some of that bonding time and I’ve now been able to reignite that with my son. So it’s very special.

Katie: That is, and two things there I want to touch on a little bit. So I’m curious if you have any strategies or just any personal experience of how you’ve navigated this path with your husband and being in relationship? Because I know at least from my own experience, having been through some kind of trauma like that, and especially once you’ve put up walls or with the shame that we talked about earlier, it’s like it can make it hard to be vulnerable and to connect in relationships sometimes. And so I’m curious if you have anything that’s been helpful for you guys in your relationship or help to strengthen that bond as you work through these levels of trauma.

Gabby: Oh, this is such a whole other podcast. I agree with that. So there’s really great gifts in being on your own personal growth journey, but there’s an even greater gift than in being on one with a partner because your partner is the one who continues to trigger your core wounds and activate them, which only allows you to have the opportunity to go deeper into your own personal growth. So if you see it that way, it can be a real blessing, if you don’t, it can be a pain in the ass. It can be torturous. So thankfully my husband and I both been on our own journeys separately and together. The places that I think I’ve felt the most, the deepest connection is even reading these, these Dan Siegel books, realizing that the same way that I would treat my child when he’s activated is how I have to treat my husband and myself. So if my husband’s, you know, throwing an attitude around and he’s upset about things, I have to recognize that I can’t just jump into solution with him. I have to honor his feelings. So by simply saying… Last night I said, he was really stressed out because we have so much going on. And I said, “You know, listen honey, why don’t you just tell me how you feel and I don’t need to problem solve. I’ll just listen.” And his whole face just lit up. Like, thank you so much. So the answer is I recommend couples therapy to every family, every human, every couple. I think every couple should be in couples therapy, especially if you have children, every couple should be in couples therapy. And I say that should with a real “S” a capital “S,” Should, and I’m not a “should”er, but I think that is my big should for the lifetime. And uh, it’s my highest recommendation. Also just doing your own personal growth work, you have to hope and pray that your partner will grow with you.

Katie: Absolutely. Yeah, definitely agree. And I love that. And then the other point of what you said that I really resonated with as you said, you were just you’re being grateful for not having the childcare right now and for more time with your son and at home and I think it’s easy to fall into that out of control feeling or the uncertainty or the helplessness like we talked about earlier on. But we also all do have the choice to choose gratitude. And I’m hopeful, especially, I think moms kind of direct the mood at a lot of households and I’m hopeful that we can kind of collectively let this become a great experience like we talked about for us and for our families and for our kids.

And I’m hopeful that we’ll also keep some of the good lessons of this. Like many more people are gardening and many more people are cooking at home with their families or spending more one on one time with their kids or just spending more time in nature. So as things hopefully relatively quickly move back towards what we remember in life, I also hope we can keep the good and keep the lessons. And, um, and like you said, use this as a catalyst for change in our lives and kind of a metamorphosis of sorts. Um, for people who are new to you, I know you’re very well-known and I guess most listeners have heard of you, but for someone who’s new, who is ready to kind of jump in and kind of go on this journey, where would you recommend that they start with your work and your books?

Gabby: I would say head over to my site, Gabbybernstein.com and really just allow yourself to be guided there because there’s so much content. There’s so many free resources. If you’re a reader and you are looking for a spiritual book, I think a great place to start is my book, The Universe Has Your Back. If you read The Universe Has Your Back, a great one would be Super Attractor. But I’ve written eight books now, so I think that the best thing to do is also just go read the introductions online and see what’s the most, what’s really striking you as your path, your journey with me. I probably need to do sort of like a website form of like a choose your own adventure with the books, you know, like, which direction do you want to go in right now? But you can spend some time on Amazon reading the introductions and seeing what feels right for you.

Katie: I love it and I will make sure all of those links are at wellnessmama.fm in the show notes. If you guys are listening while you are driving or exercising, you can find everything we’ve talked about there. And I know Gabby, you have so many resources on your site including a meditation challenge. I’ll make sure we link to that as well. But I love that you’re a voice of calm and gratitude even in these kind of tough and uncertain times. And I love your message throughout your books of us being able to choose joy. And to choose a positive response. I think it’s so important and so needed right now and especially with no childcare. I really appreciate you making the time today to be here and to share your, your message and your journey.

Gabby: Thank you. And listen, I really do want to encourage people, if this is coming out in before the 17th of May or even within that week to take me up on this journey of this 21-day challenge because Katie, I’d love to have you involved in doing it because I’ve put in these meditations, daily new meditations for people and I think so many people have been begging me right now for guidance on how to meditate in this crisis. And so I feel it’s my responsibility as a spiritual teacher to give those tools. So I’m really glad that you brought that up because I think that taking… and also being part of a community right now, feeling part of a collective group of people going on a journey together. So we’ll give them all those details.

Katie: I love it. So yeah, you guys make sure you check out the show notes and find those links. Gabby, thank you so much for your time and for all that you do.

Gabby: Thank you. Thank you for your vulnerability too. Thank you so much.

Katie: And thanks as always to you for listening and sharing one of your most valuable resources, your time, with both of us today. We’re very grateful that you did and I hope that you will join me again on the next episode of the Wellness Mama podcast.

If you’re enjoying these interviews, would you please take two minutes to leave a rating or review on iTunes for me? Doing this helps more people to find the podcast, which means even more moms and families could benefit from the information. I really appreciate your time, and thanks as always for listening.

Source: https://wellnessmama.com/podcast/gabrielle-bernstein/

[awed-frog]

I saw your notes on the outrageous post about the 1% and I couldn't help but be curious about they things your friend experienced...

Hi there! So, yeah, it’s kind of a freakish story, because Iwent to high school with this girl - we were in the same class, andshe was so sweet - the bookwormish and Did you know there’sa wasp called Aha ha and ‘save the whales’ kind ofstudent, you know? And after graduating, she studied maths, and thenwe sort of lost touch - I heard she was working in London when I wasliving in the UK, so I reached out and got a very weird email back.We finally met on a train, just randomly, about five years afterthat, and that’s when she told me what had happened to her.

[Disclaimer: I’m not saying all banks and consulting companiesare cults, but if how much money you make depends on how many peopleyou screw over, then maybe it’s normal you attract a crowd ofpsychopaths and pathological narcissists, and things generally godownhill from there.]

So, the thing is - with a maths degree, you can do a lot of stuff,but my friend had a bit of an adulting crisis at the end of herstudies, because, she told me, every choice seemed so very permanentand she wasn’t ready to commit to a 3-years research program orteacher training or whatever, and this is when she was headhunted bythe banking industry and basically they made her believe they’d bethe right fit for her.

(And let me just say - because of my Oxford degree, I’ve beentargeted as well, and that one evening I spent with them remains oneof the scariest beyond the looking glass shit I’veever experienced in my life.)

Of course, their offer is dreamy - a flexible whatever, she leaveswhen she wants, she gets a free course in what they need her to do, asalary with a shitton of zeroes and the job is based infucking London - and at this point, my friend isstill a normal a kid and she’s thinking, I’m notenthusiastic about what banks get up to and it’s not the mostinteresting thing I could do with my degree, but hey, maybe I canlive in the UK for a couple of years and make some money and thenfind something better. And so off she went, and as she told meabout how she found her first flat, well, that’s the same thing Iwas going through in that same period some sixty miles away, becauseshe still had a normal budget (what she’d saved till then? summerjobs and grandparents’ gifts and some paid grading) and it’s hardto find a reasonably priced room in London, so she had to picksomething that was more than one hour away from the City and thatsounded like a very boring and long commute, but hey, London! And atthis point, you know, she looked out of the window, and her storystarted to become a bit more disconnected, jumping back and forth, soI’ll try to piece it together chronologically, but man, it wasreally chilling to hear it out of order, and I wish you’d beenthere with me because I don’t know how well I can put it intowords.

Anyway, so the first thing that’s a problem are her clothes: shecan see that as soon as she steps into the place, the way people lookat her, and she doesn’t get it, because she’s wearing this smartpantsuit she’s already uncomfortable in, and what the fuck? Andluckily she doesn’t have to wonder long, because that’s, like,the first thing her boss (a man) says to her: that she can’t dresslike that, because she’s going to meet clients from time to timeand that’s just not appropriate and my friend - a shy 23-year-oldwho grew up in the mountains, in a village of 46 people - stilldoesn’t know what she’s doing wrong, exactly, and it’sso embarrassing, because this is a man twenty years hersenior and her boss and she’s talking to her like she’s naked orsome shit, and finally - finally - he explains that she can’t buyoff the rack - tailor-made only, please. And she’s so stunned shejust babbles that she can’t afford that and this guy - this guytakes his wallet and places, like, 10 000 pounds on the deskand Please go get changed. 

(“It was like Pretty Woman,” my friendsaid, “except creepier, because I didn’t know the rules. Ididn’t know, well - I was shocked. Like, was that a test? Should Itake the money or not? And if I take it, does that come out of mypaycheck? Is it a gift? Do I have a choice over the clothes I wear ornot? Should I stand up for myself or give up? How do I make a goodimpression here?”)

And the thing is, you want to be polite, right? You want to fitin. You assume other people know better. 

(Especially as a young woman.)

And so my friend took the money and said thank you and spent herfirst morning shopping in a weird luxury place that only had one ofeach and came with complimentary champagne and truffle-flavoured hamand there were no curtains and no changing rooms and she had to stripdown to her underwear right in front of the saleswoman, but it alsodidn’t matter because she was the only customer and the shop lookedlike someone’s living room and again, what are the rules? 

And the thing is - the way she described it, every day was likethat in several small, insidious ways, every day there were athousand moments when she didn’t know what people expected fromher, and slowly the desire to be a good colleague turned into a thisis completely normal and how everyone lives thing and shedidn’t even notice it was happening.

Like, at first she’d been shocked by the price of meals. Peoplewould routinely order up food, or go out for dinner and spendthousands of pounds on one lunch. 

(Thousands. Of. Pounds.) 

And she’d been shocked by the rent of her new apartment (with a60-minute commute, she had maybe two hours of sleep a night, so shehad to move closer to the City), because £5000 a month? Back in uni,that had been her budget for a whole semester. And she’dbeen shocked by how many clothes and shoes and designer handbags sheseemed to be needing. And at how she’d stopped doing anything forherself, or having any control over her body - she never had the timeto cook, or even shop (her luxury kitchen was pristine, her fridgeempty), and someone would come into work and do her hair and nailsand whatever else it is that women need and barely ask her aboutstyle and colour because they could see she was out of her depth.

(“You remember how I was before, right? When I first arrived inLondon, I didn’t know how foundation worked. I never painted mynails, either. For job interviews and stuff I’d wear some of thateasy-to-apply eyeliner and mascara and feel like Greta Garbo, but inmy office, it was considered - people just frowned at you, you know?Or disregarded your wishes, or whatever. One day - it must have beena week after I started - a beautician just showed up, started talkingto me as if we’d arranged an appointment, asked me to chose betweenfour shades of pink that looked the same to me. Turns out, acolleague had told her to come to me next, already paid for it, sowhat do you do? I had to sit there in front of everybody and let thiswoman do my nails - I felt like an animal in a zoo, but nobody waslooking at me, nobody found it weird.”) 

And, look, I can’t really explain it the way she did, but whathappened next was that she didn’t have time to come home for avisit for, like, eight months, and when she finally showed upeveryone was half proud, half terrified, because yeah, she lookedgood and rich and successful, but she was also -completely different? When she’d left, she’d beenthis normal kid, vaguely left-wing, who’d liked hiking and onlyowned sport bras, and now she was - she was weird. Shehad no sense of reality. No compassion for anything or anyone. Shewas cold, annoyed by everything, incredulous at the fact herfavourite brands were not available in local shops, insisting thather parents and siblings should buy this and that to make their livesbetter. She ended up fighting with mostly everyone and going back toLondon after three days, and in the year after that, she only tookholidays with colleagues - three days of snorkeling in Kenya, aprivate plane party, a weekend of golfing in Scotland - and now shewas the one ordering the most expensive bottle on the menu androlling her eyes at badly-dressed interns, because - she’d made it.She was the 1%. 

(Or would get there, anyway.)  

Luckily, there’s a happy ending, and it’s surprisinglyanticlimatic. 

One night, my friend looked up from a party of high-endprostitutes and drunken antics and she suddenly saw how crazy andunhealthy it all was. It just happened. She looked at the woman onher left, snorting cocaine and laughing, and then at the man on herright, who had a stripper on his lap, and she just - stood up andleft. The very next day, she quit the firm, donated half her earningsto charity, travelled through South America for three months beforegoing back to university. Now she’s a researcher (she doessomething complicated to do with game theory, and I don’tunderstand any of it), and also - she’s back to her old lovelyself. She sees her friends, she gets on well with her family. She’skind. She’s normal. As I said - happy ending.

[trendingnewsb]

Hello, You Are The Monkey Detective. Can You Figure Out Which Monkey Stole Your Wine?

This feature requires JavaScript to function.

Your job is that you have to find the monkeys that do crimes and put them in jail or send them Donkey Heaven, which is hell for monkeys.

I already know about all that.

A fun bit of trivia about you is that your brain is in your foot. You had doctors put your brain in your foot so that you could get shot in the head without dying.

I already know that.

You have arrested many monkeys for doing crimes. This a villainous monkey named Mr. Slippers. Mr. Slippers committed insider trading on Wall Street, so you tracked him down and threw him in jail for 10,000 monkey years, which is equivalent to 86 billion human years.

I know the whole thing about that already.

This disgusting old pervert is named Mittens Supreme. In 1994 she was convicted of selling a 250-pound cube of cocaine to a human toddler. You used your skills as the Monkey Detective to track her down and put her behind bars for three ape hours, which is equivalent to 90,000 human years.

I knew about this story before I was even born.

And this psychotic geezer is named Linus Pucker. Linus Pucker committed two crimes. The first crime was illegally impersonating a cowboy. The second crime was assassinating the Austrian Archduke Franz Ferdinand, which started World War I. You tracked him down by following the clues, and you put him in prison for 45 ape seconds, which is equivalent to three human minutes.

I know about that too.

These are just a few of the monkey crimes you have solved during your career as the Monkey Detective. Now it is time to celebrate your success with a big glass of wine.

Go get yourself a big glass of wine.

You keep your wine in the trunk of this car. The car belongs to your neighbor, but he said you could store all your wine in there. He lets you do that because he is in love with you and he thinks that if he lets you hide your wine in his car, you will marry him.

Open up your trunk and drink a very big glass of a lot of wine.

Forget everything and go marry your neighbor.

Here is your neighbor’s house. Your neighbor has been in love with you ever since he saw you naked on the cover of Endlessly Naked Detective Magazine. He is sitting on the floor of his house right now, waiting to marry you.

Knock on your neighbor’s door and marry him.

You knock on the door of the house, and your neighbor comes out to greet you. Your neighbor’s name is Sir Laundry Tomorrow-Always, and he is a Knight of the Realm. You hear him being in love with you deep inside of his suit of armor. “Hello. Please have sex with my big honkin’ crotch for 1,000 days and nights,” says Sir Laundry Tomorrow-Always.

I will NEVER have sex with your big honkin’ crotch. I have come to marry you.

I just came by to say that I am not in love with you.

“Would you be in love with me if I gave you an extremely old computer?”

Yes.

No.

“Here is my old computer. It is from 1997.”

I am in love with you.

You decide to get married to your neighbor. You go down to the lake to see the Love Wizard. “What do you want?” the Love Wizard screams at you.

Can I be married to my neighbor?

“Sure, whatever!” the Love Wizard shrieks. “You are married now. Thank you for coming to my lake, and remember my motto: ‘There’s no maximum to the number of people you can be married to!’”

Okay, you’re married to your neighbor now. Better go drink your wine now.

Go drink a big gulp of wine from a gigantic big cup of wine.

You and your neighbor are married now, but neither of you care about it at all. You return to your neighbor’s car.

Open up the trunk and start drinking the wine.

Oh no.

Oh no.

Oh shit and hell…

Oh shit and hell…

WHERE IS YOUR WINE?

THE WINE IS GONE!

Holy fuck of piss! Some criminal has stolen your wine! Where is your incredible wine? Your hot nectar of juice? YOUR WINE??? YOUR BOILING-HOT SYRUP OF SAP??? WHERE HAS GONE TO YOUR WINE OF?????

WHERE’S THE WINE, ASSHOLE???? IT GOT STOLEN!!!!! THE WINE DID!!!! SOME TYPE OF CRIME-THIEF STOLE UP ALL THE WINE!!!!!!

SHRIEK WITH RAGE.

SCREAM WITH ANGUISH.

BELLOW WITH A COMBINATION OF PANIC AND LUST.

No! This is no time to be loud with a tantrum! You are a detective, and this is a crime scene. You need to search the crime scene for clues.

Search the crime scene for clues.

Check the trunk of the car one more time…

You look around the crime scene, and you see something familiar…something…yellow…

Investigate the yellow thing.

Just as you thought! Bananas! This is the famous yellow vegetable that gets eaten by monkeys! This means that the criminal who stole your wine was a monkey! And there’s only one person with the skills and expertise necessary to figure out which monkey stole your wine…

Who?

WHAT THE HELL OF SHIT??? WHERE HAS BECOME OF GONE AS OF YOUR WINE IS??? HOW COULD IT BE THIS FUCKED??? THE WINE IS JUNKED UP AND STOLEN AND MISSING, AND CRIMINALS THIEVED IT INTO OBLIVION!!! FUCK AND HECK!!! HOW DID IT BECOME GONE IN THIS MANNER???

SHRIEK WITH RAGE.

SCREAM WITH ANGUISH.

BELLOW WITH A COMBINATION OF PANIC AND LUST.

“Ah, shit. Then I guess I’m doomed to pine after you from a distance until the end of the world. It’s every knight’s worst nightmare,” says Sir Laundry Tomorrow-Always. “In the meantime, please feel free to continue storing your wine in the trunk of my car.” He closes the door, and you can hear him crying while he blasts the album Salad-Flavored Frown, Ranch-Flavored Tears by the legendary band The Gloomy Scoundrels. This is the album that Knights of the Realm are required by law to play when they have had their hearts broken.

Go back to Sir Laundry Tomorrow-Always’ car and drink your wine from his trunk.

You! The Monkey Detective! You must go find out which monkey stole your wine and either put them into jail or send them to Donkey Heaven, which is hell for monkeys!

It’s time to start investigating The Case of the Monkey Who Stole Your Wine!

Begin figuring out which monkey stole your wine.

It’s time to begin your investigation. To catch the nasty monkey that did thief stuff to your gorgeous wine, you’re going to need to go to the type of forest where monkeys live: the jungle.

Go to the jungle.

Good choice. Tons of monkeys live in the jungle. It’s one of the places where they like to hang out and be gross with each other. You are about to enter the jungle when all of a sudden you hear someone yell, “Wait! Don’t go in there, Monkey Detective!”

Turn around to see who it is.

You turn around and find yourself face to face with Natural Simon, the world’s most famous nature documentarian. Natural Simon has a show on the BBC called Skittles Safari, where Natural Simon finds the most exotic and beautiful animals in the world and feeds them Skittles to teach the world about which animals die when you feed them Skittles.

“Hello, Monkey Detective,” says Natural Simon. “I just want you to know that you better not interfere with too much nature in this big jungle right here that we’re both looking at. I’m going to be filming an episode of Skittles Safari, and I need you to stay away from all the animals so that I can feed Skittles to them in a natural way.”

Be quiet, Natural Simon. I need to go into the jungle so that I can figure out which monkey stole my wine.

Hey, Natural Simon, what happens to a buffalo when you feed it a big bucket of Skittles?

“You would know the answer to this if you watched my hourlong Christmas special, “Skittles Feasts On The American Plains.” I fed a buffalo a big bucket of Skittles, and the buffalo burped and then died. From this scientific experiment, we can conclude that when a buffalo eats a bucket of Skittles, it burps and then it dies. That is the magic of nature.”

Wow, that is truly beautiful to know. Thank you, Natural Simon.

I already knew that.

“Okay, whatever. I don’t care,” says Natural Simon. “Just make sure you don’t disturb nature too much.”

Nod and enter the jungle.

Give Natural Simon a kiss on the cheek.

“Please do not kiss me,” says Natural Simon. “When I became the host of my nature show, I had to swear a vow of celibacy to the BBC.”

Apologize to Natural Simon and enter the jungle.

Why did you have to swear a vow of celibacy to the BBC?

“In 1985, the legendary David Attenborough was shooting an episode of his popular nature documentary, Animals! Animals! Animals!” Natural Simon explains to you, “and he went up to a zebra and whispered, ‘My wife and I have sex all the time. Even on weekends.’ Listening to David Attenborough talk about his sex life made the zebra very upset, and so the zebra had no choice but to scream and run off a cliff and die. In order to avoid a similar disaster, the BBC has made everyone who appears on their channel take a vow of celibacy so that they can never make zebras commit frantic suicide by telling them how much sex they have.”

Thank Natural Simon for this wonderful story and enter the jungle.

You leave Natural Simon behind for the time being and enter the jungle.

The first person you meet in the jungle is Dennis the Lion. “Hello, Monkey Detective,” says Dennis the Lion.

Hello, Dennis. How are you doing?

WHERE IS MY GODDAMN WINE, YOU FUCK-PERSON? WHERE IS THE SWEET SAP OF STICKINESS? WHERE IS THE HOT JUICE OF DISGUSTING GROSS NECTAR OF SYRUP OF DELICIOUS WINE? THE HOT PURPLE WINE!!! WHERE’S THE WINE???

You thank Natural Simon for the wonderful story about David Attenborough driving a zebra insane with his erotic tales, and you enter the jungle.

The first person you meet in the jungle is Dennis the Lion. “Hello, Monkey Detective,” says Dennis the Lion.

Hello, Dennis. How are you doing?

WHERE IS MY GODDAMN WINE, YOU FUCK-PERSON? WHERE IS THE SWEET SAP OF STICKINESS? WHERE IS THE HOT JUICE OF DISGUSTING GROSS NECTAR OF SYRUP OF DELICIOUS WINE? THE HOT PURPLE WINE!!! WHERE’S THE WINE???

“I’m doing fine, Monkey Detective,” says Dennis the Lion. “I just spent all afternoon watching a wasp lay its eggs in a caterpillar’s brain, and now I am waiting to die.”

That sounds like a wonderful way to spend your day.

I’m jealous of your perfect life.

It just doesn’t get any better than that, Dennis.

“Yes, it’s great. I cannot wait for my nest of eggs to hatch. How are you doing, Monkey Detective?”

Not so good. A monkey stole my wine.

“That’s terrible. Your mind must be insane with #WinePanic,” says Dennis the Lion.

Have you seen any suspicious monkeys that look like they might be hiding some stolen wine?

“As a matter of fact, I have seen a suspicious thing involving a monkey,” says Dennis the Lion. “One thing I saw is a famous monkey named Pervert-Pervert Gumbo walking into the jungle carrying a plastic bag of some kind. I couldn’t tell what was in the bag, but it smelled like it was stolen.”

Where can I find this Pervert-Pervert Gumbo?

“It just so happens that I know where Pervert-Pervert Gumbo’s secret #ApeLocation is, but why should I just tell you? Shouldn’t you do something nice for me before I tell you?”

No, you should just tell me where he lives.

“Oh, okay. Well, he lives in the River of Nasty Ideas. It’s just to the north of here.”

Travel north to the River of Nasty Ideas.

You travel north through the jungle’s nosy branches and thick old vines, and soon you arrive at the River of Nasty Ideas. This is where the monkey Pervert-Pervert Gumbo lives. He’s standing there with the grossest horrible smile plastered across his head. It is the grin of someone who has become happy because of something disgusting. He is terrible to know about.

“Monkeys and bugs can be…more than just friends,” says Pervert-Pervert Gumbo. He stares at you with his disgusting grin and splashes some river water around with his hands.

Okay, that’s great. I didn’t want to know about that.

Listen, you horrendous ape, what do you know about my stolen wine?

“Wine is the romance syrup,” says Pervert-Pervert Gumbo. “I have seen it…in my night’s dreams.”

Yes, but did you steal my wine?

“That depends…what does your wine look like?”

My wine is bottle-shaped.

My wine is yellow.

“Hm…I don’t remember seeing anything bottle-shaped recently,” says Pervert-Pervert Gumbo.

Are you sure you can’t remember anything?

Dennis the Lion says he saw you carrying a suspicious plastic bag. Why don’t you tell me a little bit about that?

“I do remember something! One time my brother got sick, so I ate his legs and so I also got sick. I was barfing everywhere, and I got to stay home from driving school.”

I meant, do you remember anything about seeing my stolen wine.

“Oh…no, I haven’t seen anything involving your wine recently,” says Pervert-Pervert Gumbo.

Dennis the Lion says he saw you carrying a suspicious plastic bag. Why don’t you tell me a little bit about that?

“Oh, this thing?” asks Pervert-Pervert Gumbo as he waves a plastic bag around over his head. “This is my Garbage Pouch! I found it in the trash, and now I wave it around over my head a lot to let people know that I’m the kind of monkey that loves garbage.”

Wait a minute, if all you do with your Garbage Pouch is wave it around, then why were you carrying something inside of it?

Your story checks out, Pervert-Pervert Gumbo. I’ll let you go back to being horrible in the river…but I’ll be keeping an eye on you.

“Oh, well, Dennis the Lion must have seen me carrying around my fish,” says Pervert-Pervert Gumbo. You see, every month I fill up my Garbage Pouch with a bunch of fish, and I carry the pouch around with me until the fish go rotten. When the fish go rotten, I celebrate by going to the bathroom. Then I dump the rotten fish off at a local elementary school so that the children can learn about how death makes everything smell bad. Then I fill up my Garbage Pouch with more fish, and the beautiful cycle begins anew.”

That’s a truly beautiful and moving story about the cycle of nature.

I have never heard of anything more horrible.

“Thank you.”

You are one of the worst monkeys I’ve ever met in my time as a Monkey Detective. Now I’m going to leave.

“I am an innocent angel,” says the disgusting monkey. “I am like Cupid, but even more naked and even more in a river. But I know about a nasty-bad monkey who maybe stole your wine!”

Who is it?

“Her name is Princess Neil Armstrong, and she is one of the most nasty-bad monkeys in the whole of the monkey world. I bet she’s the one who stole your wine! She lives in the jungle castle called Goose Manor.”

Go find the castle Goose Manor and interrogate Princess Neil Armstrong.

You leave behind the River of Nasty Ideas and venture into the jungle to find Goose Manor. As you’re leaving, you hear Pervert-Pervert Gumbo shout behind you, “Wait, Monkey Detective! I have one more very important thing to tell you!”

Ignore Pervert-Pervert Gumbo and keep walking.

Turn around to see what Pervert-Pervert Gumbo has to say.

You ignore Pervert-Pervert Gumbo and continue walking deeper into the jungle. “Please! Monkey Detective! Please listen to me! This is extremely important!”

Keep ignoring Pervert-Pervert and continue walking away.

Turn around to see what Pervert-Pervert Gumbo has to say.

You keep ignoring Pervert-Pervert Gumbo and keep walking deeper into the jungle. “Monkey Detective, the information I have is vital for you!” cries Pervert-Pervert Gumbo. “You’ll die without it! Please just listen to what I have to say!”

Keep ignoring Pervert-Pervert and continue walking away.

Turn around to see what Pervert-Pervert Gumbo has to say.

“Please! Monkey Detective! You need to listen to me! You need to turn around and hear what I have to say! The fate of your life hangs in the balance! The fate of the world hangs in the balance! Please listen to me!”

Disappear into the jungle and leave Pervert-Pervert Gumbo behind.

Turn around to see what Pervert-Pervert Gumbo has to say.

“Sometimes, monkeys and bugs start out as good friends, but then the monkeys and bugs start to feel things…beautiful romantic things…and the friendship between the monkeys and the bugs becomes…something more…and the monkeys and the bugs kiss each other and…they have sex with each other (a.k.a. fuck each other). The monkeys have sex with the cockroaches and the beetles and the mosquitos and the many other types of bugs that they used to be friends with, and sometimes a monkey’s driving teacher sees him having se

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• A TIRED SLEEP CAN’T FIX

I was fifteen when I took my first dose of Ecstasy, with a girl. No, like — it made me fall for her, and I’m pretty sure it made me fall for a drug that flooded my brain with a Burning-Man’s-worth of dazes and hallucinations.

It’s just what Oxytocin does, it’s like your fairy godmother that can only be summoned by hardcore chemical man-made drugs. Good shit, in my opinion.

Only months before that, I’d done 2CB. A hallucinogen that wasn’t technically illegal at the time. Of course, it was banned and the whole supply dried out. I was scared; I mean E was already illegal, and I knew there was no guarantee that the feds wouldn’t bust whoever was making it for my state. I wasn’t willing to live in a world where I couldn’t roll my balls off a cliff at a moment’s notice.

That’s a saying somewhere, okay? Fuck off.

Henceforth, I moved to South Korea. The one place I could kind of call home, and a perfect place to go against the law considering it’s so goddamn premature. Mom said it’d work out somehow, plenty of jobs and opportunities, blah blah blah. A friend of mine gave me some advice while I was a dishwasher for a university, that you could use nutmeg to get high. It’s legit. I googled it. Nutmeg contains a psychoactive chemical called myristicin, but it’s also about 2 percent safrole. Safrole happens to be one of the main reagents for MDMA (and bingo, ecstasy).

I resolved to learn how to make it - mostly out of pure curiosity rather than criminal intent. I figure a lot of the weird kids get into this business because they love drugs and fall down the rabbit hole of studying how all these wacky chemicals affect their brains. One thing leads to another and then, that’s just it, you’re committing felonies as if you were in Grand Theft Auto.

My main problem, though, was the price. I added it up, and it’d take more than $2,000 (about 2,400,000 ₩) to buy what I needed. So far, I had two things going for me: a minimum wage job and a morphine habit. Not like anybody was cashing out a 401k to fund a drug hobby.

I went to the grocery store one day, as people do. I was most likely bordering on sober when I ran into a friend I’d known for years back in Japan. I’d just started studying chemistry, and I was just lipping about my plans and not really thinking straight. I gave out that I didn’t have the cash for this start-up, I don’t think I even had a tenth of what I needed. He didn’t even say anything besides, “I’ve got somebody you should meet.” And then, I ended up agreeing with him to set up a dinner.

He and I met with these guys who didn’t give off the right or the wrong impression. The neutral type, no personalities, suits that cost more than my XBox and Playstation combined and tripled. I’ll be referring to them simply as “the bad boys” from here on out, because I don’t think all of them wound up in prison yet and it’s probably best to not be all that specific given my current situation.

They asked me, so I answered. I walked them through what I’d need. One took notes and the other checked the list with some other cooks, and he went through his little process of seeing if it was legit enough. Days later they came back at like, two in the morning, and offered to shotgun me what seemed like a shit-ton of money. It didn’t take me long to find out they were big into the cocaine trade, and the few grand they were throwing my way might as well have been couch change to them, but at the time, I felt pretty fucking important.

The bad boys put me to an oath and to this very day, I don’t know why they’re called Cottonmouth. I assumed it was like the snake but our trademark is a fucking flower. Whatever, I guess I’m an actual part of it.

So, I rented a small house in the outskirts of the capital and started putting my lab together. I bought the best equipment I could and I went as far as anyone would go if a bunch of rich dudes offered to fund your happy little hobby. Whenever I ran out of money, I went back to the bosses and said, “I need more.” I wound up buying a condenser that cost two grand alone. I bought a brand new Toyota (don't ask how I got my license, because I didn't) and I built my own sandbox, completely filled with everything I’d ever want. I even had the stuff to start assembling a gas chromatograph. Basically, the Charizard of drug chemistry.

It was really hard to get sassafras oil for the E, so I started with a small bit – just five grams of safrole – in case I completely fucked it up. I had a few issues, I won’t go into detail but I wound up going to the Honeycomb (a forum full of drug chemists) and after asking some questions it finally worked. I wound up with about 2.5 grams of MDMA; enough for ten or fifteen normal doses, or five crazy-ass-teenage-raver doses.

But I was worried about using it or selling it, seriously. The final bit involved elemental aluminum as a reducing catalyst— and to get the aluminum oxide off the aluminum, you have to use mercury. You put the mercury into the reaction vessel, and you clear it out with sodium hydroxide.

It was a first for me so I wasn’t sure if I’d done it right, and since I’d used powdered mercury, it literally ended up without reaction. Practically invisible, so I had to take it on my faith that I’d gotten the poison out.

Drug cooks don’t exactly hold an elevated position in society, if you haven’t noticed. Some of you might even think I’m a terrible person for getting involved in this at all. Not like you’d tell at a first glance, I mean — I’ll tell you that I haven’t been sleeping well and you’d believe that’s why I look so shitty. But I got into making drugs because I’d had so many good times on drugs. I wasn’t about to take the risk that the chemicals I made might hurt people. I had to find some way to test this stuff before I got distributions going.

Now, mind you and your manners before you keep reading – I had no other fucking choice. I wasn’t about to die because I willingly ingested mercury.

I took a rat, gave it a small dose and it lived whilst staggering out of the experience with a whole new appreciation for Bulgarian electronic music. The agenda called for a typical move, I tried it on myself with 10 mg. Then I increased the doses, little by little.

And it fucking worked. 

I called my friend over and I ran into my yard, jumping up and down with overcoming fascination by what we had done, what we were capable of doing, and what we’d end up doing.

 We were also probably on E, now that I think about it.

Listen, I got obsessed with the pure chemistry. I started plugging out things I knew that there was no market for – the 2CH, a few different mescaline compounds. These drugs weren’t exactly economical (a high dose for a reaction put the demand down low), but my friends wanted to try them, so I made a lot of experimental shit and gave it away. The most horrifying thing I wound up making was called DOB. It’s an incredibly powerful chemical, active at 1-3 mg. For reference, a small hit of Ecstasy is 100 times that size.

I ended up destroying it, because I didn’t really want to take it and having anything that powerful is terrifying. Imagine if I’d sneezed on the pile or something – a bit of that stuff gets in your nose, and you’re hallucinating for days. Unlike Acid, it’s got a low LD50, so a high enough accidental dose could have killed me.

I was also a bit reckless (what a surprise) particularly with the dichloromethane. A fairly common solvent, but back then, I wasn’t aware of how dangerous chlorohydrocarbons could be. It evaporates fast, and because I was a lazy teenage drug addict, I wounded up leaving it out. It got into my little breathing bubble and, well, I’m pretty sure I’m color blind. I found out later that these are classic symptoms of chlorohydrocarbon inhalation.

Not the end of the world, could’ve been worse.

Eventually I started making MDA. Basically a faster, off-brand version of ecstasy. You can go from safrole to MDA in just five hours if you use a dangerous reagent named tetranitromethane (TNM). It’s more explosive than TNT and it is unstable. I had to make this shit behind a blast shield, I kid you not. Safe temperature range was around 160 degrees Celsius. If the temperature went up slowly, you chuck ice on it as much as possible. If the temperature jumped abruptly, you run like hell, and maybe try to time your slow motion jump with the resulting house explosion.

But the bosses were big into coke, supplying endless kilos of the stuff. I was only one cook out of ten, or something. They were reckless about it, it’s a common trait with the people I associate myself with. They own a restaurant for money laundering, and it’s just so obvious to anyone who came around that no one actually went in there to eat. And if you did, you had no idea what the fuck you were surrounded by. People would go in for 15 minutes and walk out with no food. And this restaurant is doing $500,000 a year? More? Right, let’s just walk out of a restaurant with less than eight pounds of to-go boxes.

Not that I’m complaining about their unrealistic process. Sometimes I get half the money from their profit. That’s a pretty big cut, but the amount doesn’t really matter. It’s all dirty money. You can’t buy a car with it, you can’t waltz into a bank and put it in an account, and you certainly can’t save up and buy a house. So I go out every day and buy game systems, any game that sounded even remotely interesting (even Ubisoft – I’m so serious), groceries, and clothing. As long as it was under $500, no one cared that you paid in cash. I just have to look the part.

I got dark circles, I’d like to call myself seemingly good looking with a charming smile, I make sure I work out every morning, I meet a few girls every so often, I barely brush my hair and people actually like it; I could go on.

But boiled down : I’m a drug cook, I’m twenty-two, and I’m as realistic as unrealistic can get.

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New Post has been published on https://acqro.in/hollywood-biggest-celebrity-scandal/

Hollywood Biggest Celebrity Scandal

Tim Allen arrested for dealing cocaine, 1978

Before he became everyone’s favorite Santa Clause (or the handy tool man, or Buzz Lightyear), Tim Allen was caught dealing drugs—specifically cocaine. He was arrested for possession of nearly a pound-and-a-half of cocaine at the Kalamazoo/Battle Creek International airport in Michigan in 1978. He spent 28 months in a federal prison, as opposed to a life sentence, for giving up the names of other drug offenders.

Marvin Gaye murdered by his father, 1984

The soul singer of the 80s, known as the Prince of Motown, was shot and killed by his father, Rev. Marvin Gay Sr. after an altercation. (Note: The “e” was added to the singer’s stage name.) Gaye’s brother Frankie, reportedly held him in his final moments. In his memoir, Frankie wrote that his brother’s last words were, “I got what I wanted…I couldn’t do it myself, so I made him do it.”

Rob Lowe made a sex tape with a 16-year-old, 1988

A video of the then-24-year-old Parks and Rec star having sex with two women was reportedly recorded the night before the 1988 Democratic National Convention in Atlanta. (Side note: Lowe was largely into politics before his acting career took off.) When it surfaced, it was discovered that one of the girls was only 16 years old. Her mother slapped him with a civil lawsuit, and he ended up settling, paying her a large sum of money and doing 20 hours of community service.

Michael Jackson accused of sexual assault, 1993

In 1993, Michael Jackson was accused of sexually assaulting a 13-year-old boy named Jordan Chandler. After the accusations went public, Jackson cancelled his tour due to health issues from the scandal. He later settled the case, paying the Chandlers $23,000.

O.J. Simpson arrested for the murder of his wife, 1994

Football star O.J. Simpson was arrested for the murder of his ex-wife Nicole Brown Simpson and her friend, Ronald Goldman, following a now-iconic car chase through Los Angeles. After 15 months in jail, Simpson was famously acquitted of both counts, thanks in part to his lawyer’s “if the glove doesn’t fit, you must acquit” line. In 2008, 13 years later, Simpson was convicted of robbery and kidnapping for a separate incident.

Hugh Grant caught with a prostitute, 1995

In 1995, Hugh Grant paid a sex worker to give him a blow job on the Sunset Strip but the two were found by police and the Four Weddings and a Funeral actor was arrested for “lewd conduct” in a public place. At the time of his arrest, he was with his longtime girlfriend Elizabeth Hurley, who tried to work through the incident. She ended up leaving Grant five years later.

Prince Charles and Princess Diana divorce, 1996

After years of marital strain and four years of separation, Prince Charles and Princess Diana formally divorced in August of 1996. Their marriage was tainted by controversy, especially at the end, with both sides cheating—Charles most famously with long-time love and now-wife, Camilla Parker Bowels. As the future King of England, Charles’ status as a divorcee is particularly scandalous.

Princess Diana killed in a car accident, 1997

Less than a year after she and Prince Charles got divorced, Princess Diana was killed in a car accident in Paris after being chased by paparazzi—and it was rumored that the future king planned her death. Later a letter from the princess to her former butler was discovered. In it she wrote that she felt Charles was setting up an incident so he could marry Tiggy, the former nanny of Princes William and Harry, but many believe the note was forged and an inquest concluded in 2008 found no wrongdoing on the part of the royal family.

Bill Clinton’s affair with Monica Lewinsky made public, 1998

In 1995, former President Bill Clinton began having an affair with a then-21-year-old Monica Lewinsky, who was an unpaid White House intern. The huge scandal was made public in 1998, and Clinton denied that he had “sexual relations” with Lewinsky. He later admitted that he did have an affair with her, which contributed to his impeachment in 1999.

Marilyn Manson’s music blamed for the Columbine shooting, 1999

After one of the deadliest schools shootings—in which two seniors murdered 12 students and one teacher at Columbine High School—people pointed the finger at musician Marilyn Manson. It was thought that the two students loved Manson and his music, and it was said that the singer’s songs inspired them to carry out the tragic act. The rumor was proven false, but Manson’s reputation was hurt badly from the reports.

Winona Ryder arrested for shoplifting, 2001

In 2001, the Stranger Things actress was caught stealing over $5,560 worth of merchandise from a Saks Fifth Avenue in Beverly Hills, California. She reportedly ripped tags off of clothing items and stashed them in her bag. Ryder later spun the incident positively, telling Daily Mail, “In a weird way, it was almost like the best thing that could have happened, because I’d never asked myself the question before of, Is it okay if I’m not going to act? Is there anything else? because that was all that I really knew.”

R. Kelly arrested for child pornography, 2002

R. Kelly was indicted on 21 counts of child pornography after a tape showing him having sex with and urinating on an underage woman was sent to the Chicago Sun Times. He plead not guilty to all charges. Since, dozens of women have claimed to have been held in a sex cult by the singer. The hashtag #MuteRKelly started spreading recently, and Spotify was the first company to actually take action.

Madonna and Britney Spears kissed on stage, 2003

During a 2003 MTV Video Music Award performance, Britney Spears and Madonna shocked everyone when they kissed on stage. Christina Aguilera was performing with them, too, and got a smooch from Madonna, but the cameras switched shots and their kiss wasn’t televised. Videographers instead cut to a shot of Justin Timberlake’s shocked face.

Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston announced their divorce, 2005

In January 2005, Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston made a shocking joint statement that revealed they were breaking up. “We would like to announce that after seven years together we have decided to formally separate. For those who follow these sorts of things, we would like to explain that our separation is not the result of any of the speculation reported by the tabloid media,” they said in the statement.

“This decision is the result of much thoughtful consideration,” the statement continued. “We happily remain committed and caring friends with great love and admiration for one another. We ask in advance for your kindness and sensitivity in the coming months.” It was thought that their divorce was the result of the scandalous affair Pitt had with Angelina Jolie while filming the movie Mr. and Mrs. Smith.

Britney Spears shaved her head, 2007

Also in 2007: Britney Spears shaved off all her hair. The “Oops I Did It Again” singer hit rock bottom, beating up a photographer’s car with an umbrella just days after going at her head with a buzz cutter. That year was a rough year for Spears, and it started the famous meme: “If Britney Spears can make it through 2007, then I can make it through today.”

Kim Kardashian’s sex tape made public, 2007

Before she was married to Kanye West, Kim Kardashian was in a serious relationship with another singer: Willie “Ray J” Norwood. The couple reportedly filmed a sex tape back in 2002 during a trip to Cabo, Mexico, and it was released to the public five years later when Kim began getting more media attention for being friends with Paris Hilton (who also has a sex tape). Kim sued in an attempt to prevent the 41-minute film from being accessible, but it still found its way to the internet.

Heath Ledger found dead, 2008

In 2008, the 10 Things I Hate About You actor was found dead in his bed in New York city. The NYC Medical Examiner’s Office later determined that the cause of death was an accidental overdose of prescription painkillers, including anti-anxiety meds and sleeping pills. The Dark Knight, starring Ledger as the Joker, was released that summer in theaters, and his performance won him a posthumous Oscar.

Chris Brown assaulted Rihanna, 2009

Back in 2009, Chris Brown beat up then-girlfriend Rihanna after she discovered a text message from one of Brown’s former flames. The “Forever” singer reportedly punched her in the face, repeatedly bit her, and choked her, but not to the point of unconsciousness.

In a 20/20 interview, Rihanna opened up about the incident. “It was ugly,” she said. “I fended him off with my feet…but it was not like, it was not like a fight with each other. I just…I really just wanted it to stop.”

Michael Jackson killed, 2009

Michael Jackson was found dead on June 25, 2009. The cause? Surgical anesthetic Propofol, which was given to him by his personal doctor, Conrad Murray. Murray claimed to be injecting the King of Pop with the drug as a treatment for his insomnia. Jackson’s death was ruled a homicide, and Murray blamed for negligent monitoring. He spent two years in jail for involuntary manslaughter.

Whitney Houston found dead in a bathtub, 2012

The world was shocked when Whitney Houston was found dead in a bathtub at the Beverly Hilton Hotel in 2012. An autopsy revealed that the singer died from accidental drowning. Her body was found with numerous drugs in it, including cocaine, marijuana, Xanax, and Benadryl. Houston had heart disease, so it is thought that the disease mixed with cocaine contributed to her death.

Solange Knowles gets into elevator fight with Jay Z, 2014

Following the 2014 Met Gala, leaked surveillance video captured Solange Knowles physically fighting her brother-in-law Jay Z in an elevator at the Standard Hotel in New York City. Although there was no shortage of speculation on the internet, the Carter-Knowles family gave little information as to what actually went down. “They both acknowledge their role in this private matter that has played out in the public. They both have apologized to each other and we have moved forward as a united family,” they said in a statement given to the Associated Press.

Although the family has remained incredibly mum’s the word on the situation, Jay Z broke his silence in 2017 to share that he and Solange truly have moved on. “We had one disagreement ever. Before and after, we’ve been cool. She’s like my sister. I will protect her. That’s my sister, not my sister-in-law. My sister. Period,” he said during an appearance on Rap Radar.

30 Kanye West, Kim Kardashian, and Taylor Swift feud over “Famous” lyrics, 2016

Kanye’s infamous “I’mma let you finish” at the 2008 Video Music Awards turned out to only be the beginning of his beef with Taylor Swift. In 2016, Kanye released the song “Famous” on his The Life of Pablo album, which explicitly mentions Swift in the opening: “I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex/Why? I made that bitch famous/Goddamn, I made that bitch famous.” Although Swift claimed she didn’t know about the song, Kim Kardashian decided to interject on her husband’s behalf. In a series of Snapchats, Kardashian leaked a recorded phone call between Kanye and Swift—Kanye shares a clip of the song for Swift’s approval, and the singer is heard saying, “Yeah, I mean, what’s dope about the line is it’s very tongue in cheek either way. And I really appreciate you telling me about it, that’s really nice.”

Swift’s response to the Snapchats? The singer claimed Kanye never shared the most offensive part of the lyrics with her. “Where is the video of Kanye telling me he was going to call me ‘that bitch’ in his song? It doesn’t exist because it never happened. You don’t get to control someone’s emotional response to being called ‘that bitch’ in front of the entire world,” she wrote on Instagram. To this day, the feud still remains a case of he-said-she-said.

Harvey Weinstein accused of sexual assault, 2017

On October 5, 2017, Ashley Judd accused longtime movie mogul Harvey Weinstein of sexual harassment—a bombshell accusation that led to the historical Time’s Up and #MeToo movements. Since the first allegations, a number of other actresses have come forward with their stories of being sexually harassed or assaulted by Weinstein. After eight months, he finally turned himself in to police in New York City.

20-year-old Kylie Jenner quietly gives birth to first child, 2018

After months of speculation, an uncharacteristically quiet Kylie Jenner took to Instagram to share that she had given birth to a baby girl on February 1. Although news of her reported pregnancy with boyfriend Travis Scott leaked in September 2017, the reality star chose to stay quiet through all nine months, never confirming the news. “I’m sorry for keeping you in the dark through all the assumptions. I understand you’re used to me bringing you along on all my journeys. My pregnancy was one I chose not to do in front of the world,” she wrote in an Instagram post announcing the news. The 20-year-old also released a home video, “To Our Daughter,” that gave fans a peek at her hidden pregnancy.

Princess Diana’s phone calls with her lover, James Gilbey, released, 1992

In 1992 The Sun leaked a transcript of Princess Diana’s secret phone calls with her lover, James Gilbey. Diana was still married to Prince Charles at the time, who was also reportedly having an affair of his own with now-wife Camila Parker-Bowles.

[spryfilm]

“T2 Trainspotting” (2017)

Drama/Comedy/Thriller

Running Time: 117 minutes

Written by: John Hodge

Directed by: Danny Boyle

Featuring: Ewan McGregor, Ewen Bremner, Jonny Lee Miller, Robert Carlyle, and Kelly Macdonald

Renton: I gave you 4000 pounds. 

Spud: Well, what did you think I would do with them? I’M A FUCKING JUNKIE! 

Renton: Yes… Yes, I suppose you was. 

Spud: I still am.

Can you ever truly go home again? This is something that literally haunts this new Danny Boyle movie, “T2 Trainspotting” (2017), the sequel to the now twenty-year old “Trainspotting” (1997). The question that will be on everyone’s minds is – Is this film any good? Does it live up to the original? Both great questions, the answers are not easy to come by. To be honest I was not sure what the motivation was to making a sequel in the first place, as saying that the original film is a classic is an understatement. Not only did “Trainspotting” launch Boyles career it also launched Ewan McGregor, Ewen Bremner, Jonny Lee Miller and Kelly Macdonald careers, none of them have been out of the spotlight since, in fact all have extremely strong television and film careers. It also solidified Robert Carlyle as one of the strongest character actors in the world today, he has featured in almost every genre and even played a Bond Villain – surely the highest praise of any UK born actor in the world today. The director, Danny Boyle is the one who went on to helm many international movies, solidifying his reputation with his Oscar win for best director for “Slumdog Millionaire” (2008). Coincidentially that film launched the international careers of Dev Patel, Anil Kapoor, Ifffan Khan and Freida Pinto – it seems Boyle has the talent all great directors have – talent spotting. So after twenty years what does it all mean?

It has been 20 years since Mark “Rent boy” Renton stole from his friends half of the £16,000 they’d made in a drug deal and fled the country. He has apparently made a decent – but unfulfilling – life for himself in Amsterdam, and returns to Edinburgh to make contact with those in his former life. Daniel “Spud” Murphy continues to struggle with his heroin addiction, which has caused him to lose his construction job and estranged him from Gail Houston and their son Fergus. Simon “Sick Boy” Williamson, now a cocaine addict, runs the Port Sunshine pub he inherited from his aunt, and with his Bulgarian girlfriend Veronika attempts to blackmail men by luring them into sex videos. Francis “Franco” Begbie is serving a 25-year prison sentence and is denied parole due to his violent temper.

Mark stops by his childhood home, where his father tells him of his mother’s death while he was away. He visits Spud at his flat, narrowly preventing him from committing suicide. Spud initially resents the intervention, but Mark offers to help him out of his addiction. Mark visits Simon at the pub intending to apologize and pay back Simon’s share of the money he stole.

One of the most important aspects of the original movie was the soundtrack, and while I would like to say that the sequel’s soundtrack is as good it is not. However there are some bright points, the one thing that is great is the constant underscore of Underworld’s ‘Born Slippery’ which of course harkens back to the original but in my mind it is extremely indulgent as well as nostalgic – if this film should be about something it should not be nostalgia which is a crutch for the weak. Now, its not to say that the soundtrack is bad its just a bit dated as well as being some popular songs that everyone will know and not feel alienated – so audiences that were fifteen or twenty in 1997 now feel they are watching themselves age with music that wont be offensive. I mean Queen is on the soundtrack – WTF – this is something that wouldn’t have been caught dead in the original.

T2 Trainspotting Original Soundtrack Tracklist 

01. “Lust for Life (The Prodigy Remix)” by Iggy Pop 02. “Shotgun Mouthwash” by High Contrast 03. “Silk” by Wolf Alice 04. “Get Up” by Young Fathers 05. “Relax” by Frankie Goes to Hollywood 06. “Eventually But” by Underworld/Ewen Bremner 07. “Only God Knows” by Young Fathers 08. “Dad’s Best Friend” by The Rubberbandits 09. “Dreaming” by Blondie 10. “Radio Ga Ga” by Queen 11. “It’s Like That” by Run D.M.C. vs. Jason Nevis 12. “(White Man) In Hammersmith Palais” by The Clash 13. “Rain or Shine” by Young Fathers 14. “Whitest Boy on the Beach” by Fat White Family 15. “Slow Slippy” by Underworld

The movie is full of nostalgia, which when dealing with a film like this is not a good thing – when Renton turns back up to see his ‘mates’ there is enough blame from the previous film to go around. It is a handy coincidence that Sickboy is still a madman drug taking con man, Spud is trying to recover from smack and Begbie turns up as an escapee – trying to recapture his youth. This storyline is something that has been the subject of television shows for years – middle age wankers trying to recapture a youth that was never theirs in the first place. Like a greatest hits compilation from your favorite alternative band (now broken and broken up) this movie revisits all the memorable parts of the first film but this time with middle age spread and a healthy dose of guilt, loss and of course nostalgia.

The sequel would not have been possible without Danny Boyle and Ewen McGregor burying the hatchet after they had a falling out over the casting of “The Beach” (2000), where Boyle went with Leonardo DiCaprio.Instead of McGregor – it was one of DiCaprio’s first post “Titanic” (1997) role so he was hot.

The movie sees the return of all of the cast, even Kevin McKidd in flashback as well as seeing a memorial to him and the hugely in demand Kelly McDonald in a cameo as a lawyer so now we know she turned out alright. Then there is the scene stealing (just like the first film) Ewen Bremner as Spud, the still smack addicted mostly comic relief and cautionary tale who it turns out is an author in the making – of course he is, because like all of these characters they have learnt something and discovered their inner truth – please, how convenient. Then there are Robert Carlyle and Johnny Lee Miller who appear to have stayed true to their past, but of course even the evil Begbie who has a grown son as well as the estranged wife sees his life has moved on without him. Oh by the way even Begbie has a ‘moment’ with his son and wife where he acknowledges his son as a better person than him – really? Begbie – come on – its nice to know that exactly twenty years later he is a better man – yeah right. Johnny Lee Miller was always too cool and way to good looking for the original, but here he hasn’t aged a day and looks better than ever, even though he is supposed to be a coke head – welcome back to the 80s Sick Boy.

There is a convoluted plot involving a night club and some other bits that don’t really hold together and are not really that interesting, with a climax involving Spud being a master signature faker which has been conveniently retconned into his past which is neither here nor there. The film does come alive when it parodies the original and when the characters interact on a level that we will all recognize, but when the credits role you may be, like me, thinking that this was surely a missed opportunity for something bigger, better and be more authentic.

If you can get past the constant call backs, visually, sonically or even just inserts from the original film then this might be the film for you. For me it was just to nostalgia to the point that it became over the top, none of the characters have moved forward and to add insult to injury they were given some pat Hollywood ending, it was sad after twenty years to be served up this mess of a movie. The only thing I can think of is that the luckiest person in terms of this film is Kevin McKidd who got out of this sequel by dying in the first film.

“T2 Trainspotting 2” is out on DVD & Blu-ray on the 7th June 2017.

DVD/Blu-ray review: “T2 Trainspotting 2” (2017) “T2 Trainspotting” (2017) Drama/Comedy/Thriller Running Time: 117 minutes Written by: John Hodge Directed by: Danny Boyle…