#it just feels like i have my fictional and reality wires crossed which like. yes i do for a lot of things.

[kimbapisnotsushi]

Looking at tree law trendig and do you think nobuyuki kai is having a blast rn

sdjfhnljsfhnlu oh my god anon YES i do think that, in the event kai was aware of the wga strike and the severity of universal studios' deplorable actions, he would absolutely be delighted that tree law would come into play!!!

he'd be sad about the trees tho. i am sad about the trees. it was a shit thing to do in a poor attempt of some grand chess move, and i hope universal gets hell fined out of them.

[birdlord]

Everything I Watched in 2020

We’ll start with movies. The number in parentheses is the year of release, asterisks denote a re-watch, and titles in bold are my favourite watches of the year. Here’s 2019’s list. 

01 Little Women (19)

02 The Post (17) 

03 Molly’s Game (17)

04 * Doctor No (62)

05 Groundhog Day (93)

06 *Star Trek IV - The Voyage Home (86)

07 Knives Out (19) My last theatre experience (sob)

08 Professor Marston and his Wonder Women (17)

09 Les Miserables (98)

10 Midsommar (19) I’m not sure how *good* it is, but it does stick in the ol’ brain

11 *Manhattan Murder Mystery (93)

12 Marriage Story (19)

13 Kramer vs Kramer (79)

14 Jojo Rabbit (19)

15 J’ai perdu mon corps (19) a cute animated film about a hand detached from its body!

16 1917 (19)

17 Married to the Mob (88)

18 Klaus (19)

19 Portrait of a Lady on Fire (19) If Little Women made me want to wear a scarf criss-crossed around my torso, this one made me want to wear a cloak

20 The Last Black Man in San Francisco (19)

21 *Lawrence of Arabia (62)

22 Gone With the Wind (39)

23 Kiss Me Deadly (55)

24 Dredd (12)

25 Heartburn (86) heard a bunch about this one in the Blank Check series on Nora Ephron, sadly after I’d watched it

26 The Long Shot (19)

27 Out of Africa (85)

28 King Kong (46)

29 *Johnny Mnemonic (95)

30 Knocked Up (07)

31 Collateral (04)

32 Bird on a Wire (90)

33 The Black Dahlia (05)

34 Long Time Running (17)

35 *Magic Mike (12)

36 Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead (07)

37 Cold War (18)

38 *Kramer Vs Kramer (79) yes I watched this a few months before! This was a pandemic friend group co-watch.

39 *Burn After Reading (08)

40 Last Holiday (50)

41 Fly Away Home (96)

42 *Moneyball (11) I’m sure I watch this every two years, at most??

43 Last Holiday (06) the Queen Latifah version of the 1950 movie above, lacking, of course, the brutal “poor people don’t deserve anything good” ending

44 *Safe (95)

45 Gimme Shelter (70)

46 The Daytrippers (96)

47 Experiment in Terror (62)

48 Tucker: The Man and His Dream (88)

49 My Brilliant Career (79) one of the salvations of 2020 was watching movies “with” friends. Our usual method was to video chat before the movie, sync our streaming services, and text-chat while the movie was on. 

50 Divorce Italian Style (61)

51 *Gosford Park (01) another classic comfort watch, fuck I love a G. Park

52 Hopscotch (80)

53 Brief Encounter (45)

54 Hud (63)

55 Ocean’s 8 (18)

56 *Beverly Hills Cop (84)

57 Blow the Man Down (19)

58 Constantine (05)

59 The Report (19) maddening!! How are people so consistently terrible to one another!

60 Everyday People (04)

61 Anatomy of a Murder (58)

62 Spiderman: Homecoming (17)

63 *To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar (95) Of the 90s drag road movies, Priscilla is more visually striking, but this has its moments.

64 Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me (92)

65 *The Truman Show (98)

66 Mona Lisa (86)

67 The Blob (58)

68 The Guard (11)

69 *Waiting for Guffman (96) RIP Fred Willard

70 Rocketman (19)

71 Outside In (18)

72 The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (08) how strange to see a movie that you have known the premise for, but no details of, for over a decade

73 *Star Trek: The Undiscovered Country (91)

74 The Reader (08)

75 Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker (19) This was fine until it VERY MUCH WAS NOT FINE

76 The End of the Affair (99) you try to watch a fun little romp about infidelity during the Blitz, and Graham Greene can’t help but shoehorn in a friggin crisis of religious faith

77 Must Love Dogs (05) barely any dog content, where are the dogs at

78 The Rainmaker (97)

79 *Batman & Robin (97)

80 National Lampoon’s Vacation (83) Never seen any of the non-xmas Vacations, didn’t realize the children are totally different, not just actors but ages! Also, this one is blatantly racist!

81 *Mystic Pizza (88)

82 Funny Girl (68)

83 The Sons of Katie Elder (65)

84 *Knives Out (19) another re-watch within the same year!! How does this keep happening??

85 *Scott Pilgrim Vs The World (10) a real I-just-moved-away-from-Toronto nostalgia watch

86 Canadian Bacon (92) vividly recall this VHS at the video store, but I never saw it til 2020

87 *Blood Simple (85)

88 Brittany Runs a Marathon (19)

89 The Accidental Tourist (88)

90 August Osage County (13) MELO-DRAMA!!

91 Appaloosa (08)

92 The Firm (93) Feeling good about how many iconic 80s/90s video store stalwarts I watched in 2020

93 *Almost Famous (00)

94 Whisper of the Heart (95)

95 Da 5 Bloods (20)

96 Rain Man (88)

97 True Stories (86)

98 *Risky Business (83) It’s not about what you think it’s about! It never was!

99 *The Big Chill (83)

100 The Way We Were (73)

101 Safety Last (23) It’s getting so that I might have to add the first two digits to my dates...not that I watch THAT many movies from the 1920s...

102 Phantasm (79)

103 The Burrowers (08)

104 New Jack City (91)

105 The Vanishing (88)

106 Sisters (72)

107 Puberty Blues (81) Little Aussie cinema theme, here

108 Elevator to the Gallows (58)

109 Les Diaboliques (55)

110 House (77) haha WHAT no really W H A T

111 Death Line (72)

112 Cranes are Flying (57)

113 Holes (03)

114 *Lady Vengeance (05)

115 Long Weekend (78)

116 Body Double (84)

117 The Crazies (73) I love that Romero shows the utter confusion that would no doubt reign in the case of any kind of disaster. Things fall apart.

118 Waterlilies (07)

119 *You’re Next (11)

120 Event Horizon (97)

121 Venom (18) I liked it, guys, way more than most superhero fare. Has a real sense of place and the place ISN’T New York!

122 Under the Silver Lake (18) RIP Night Call

123 *Blade Runner (82)

124 *The Birds (62) interesting to see now that I’ve read the story it came from

125 *28 Days Later (02) hits REAL FUCKIN’ DIFFERENT in a pandemic

126 Life is Sweet (90)

127 *So I Married an Axe Murderer (93) find me a more 90s movie, I dare you (it’s not possible)

128 Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (67)

129 The Pelican Brief (93) 90s thrillers continue!

130 Dick Johnston is Dead (20)

131 The Bridges of Madison County (95)

132 Earth Girls are Easy (88) Geena Davis and Jeff Goldblum are so hot in this movie, no wonder they got married 

133 Better Watch Out (16)

134 Drowning Mona (00) trying for something like the Coen bros and not getting there

135 Au Revoir Les Enfants (87)

136 *Chasing Amy (97) Affleck is the least alluring movie lead...ever? I also think I gave Joey Lauren Adams’ character short shrift in my memory of the movie. It’s not good, but she’s more complicated than I recalled. 

137 Blackkklansman (18)

138 Being Frank (19)

139 Kiki’s Delivery Service (89)

140 Uncle Frank (20) why so many FRANKS

141 *National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (89) watching with pals (virtually) made it so much more fun than the usual yearly watch!

142 Half Baked (98) another, more secret Toronto nostalgia pic - RC Harris water filtration plant as a prison!

143 We’re the Millers (13)

144 All is Bright (13)

145 Defending Your Life (91)

146 Christmas Chronicles (18) I maintain that most new xmas movies are terrible, particularly now that Netflix churns them out like eggnog every year. 

147 Spiderman: Into the Spider-Verse (18)

148 Reindeer Games (00) what did I say about Affleck??!? WHAT DID I SAY

149 Palm Springs (20)

150 Happiest Season (20)

151 *Metropolitan (90) it’s definitely a Christmas movie

152 Black Christmas (74)

THEATRE:HOME - 2:150 (thanks pandemic)

I usually separate out docs and fiction, but I watched almost no documentaries this year (with the exception of Dick Johnston). Reality is real enough. 

TV Series

01 - BoJack Horseman (final season) - Pretty damned poignant finish to the show, replete with actual consequences for our reformed bad boy protagonist (which is more than you can say for most antiheroes of Peak TV).

02 - *Hello Ladies - I enjoy the pure awkwardness of seeing Stephen Merchant try to perform being a Regular Person, but ultimately this show tips him too far towards a nasty, Ricky Gervais-lite sort of persona. Perhaps he was always best as a cameo appearance, or lip synching with wild eyes while Chrissy Teigen giggles?

03 - Olive Kittredge - a rough watch by times. I read the book as well, later in the year. Frances Mcdormand was the best, possibly the only, casting option for the flinty lead. One episode tips into thriller territory, which is a shock. 

04 - *The Wire S3, S4, S5 - lockdown culture! It was interesting to rewatch this, then a few months later go through an enormous, culture-level reappraisal of cop-centred narratives. 

05 - Forever - a Maya Rudolph/Fred Armisen joint that coasts on the charm of its leads. The premise is OK, but I wasn’t left wanting any more at the end. 

06 - *Catastrophe - a rewatch when my partner decided he wanted to see it, too!

07 - Red Oak - resolutely “OK” steaming dramedy, relied heavily on some pretty obvious cues to get across its 1980s setting. 

08 - Little Fires Everywhere - gulped this one down while in 14-day isolation, delicious! Every 90s suburban mom had that SUV, but not all of them had the requisite **secrets**

09 - The Great - fun historical comedy/drama! Costumes: lush. Actors: amusing. Race-blind casting: refreshing!

10 - The Crown S4 - this is the season everyone lost their everloving shit for, since it’s finally recent enough history that a fair chunk of the viewing audience is liable to recall it happening. 

11 - Ted Lasso - we resisted this one for a while (thought I did enjoy the ad campaign for NBC sports (!!) that it was based on). My view is that its best point was the comfort that the men on the show have (or develop, throughout the season) with the acknowledgement and sharing of their own feelings. Masculinity redux. 

12 - Moonbase 8 - Goodnatured in a way that makes you certain they will be crushed. 

13 - The Good Lord Bird - Ethan Hawke is really aging into the character actor we always hoped he would be! 

14 - Hollywood - frothy wish-fulfillment alternate history. I think the show would have been improved immeasurably by skipping the final episode.

[grapesodatozier]

I’m a Ruin

some nice, sad wheelzier angst lol. title from the song of the same title by marina and the diamonds. also there are some small references to past mileven, byeler, and reddie, all of which are implied to have ended badly bc apparently it’s angst hours for all of my favorite ships lol

warning: this is about drug addiction. it’s told from Richie's POV, and as we know Richie Tozier hates himself a lot sometimes, so he blames himself for a lot of stuff, but I would just like to make it clear that addiction is a disease that many people go through, and it's something that can be different for different people. It's nothing to be ashamed of, and it does not make you a bad person. Recovery is always possible and happens at different speeds for different people. <3

words: 2,306

read on ao3 or below

Richie came home already exhausted. Work had been hell, and his entire body felt simultaneously like it was a live wire and full of cement. He was planning on bypassing Mike and heading straight for the bedroom to take a long fucking nap. However, he couldn’t do that without walking through the living room, where Mike was standing with his arms crossed behind the coffee table, which had a bag of cocaine on it.

“You wanna explain this?” Richie rolled his eyes at the question. His head was already starting to pound from the sanctimonious tone his boyfriend had immediately broken into.

“It’s powdered sugar, borrowed a cup from the neighbors,” Richie grinned humorlessly as he headed for the bedroom.

“You’re really just gonna walk away from me right now?” Mike’s voice was strained, almost a screech, trying to sound indignant through the obvious pain he was feeling. Richie’s shoulders sagged, his chest suddenly heavy. He hated hearing that pain in Mike’s voice, he hated being a disappointment to him. Mike had only ever been good to him, and he kept fucking up, kept proving to him that he didn’t deserve Mike’s signature undying faith. Richie turned to face Mike and shrugged weakly.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he sighed.

“I want you to throw it out,” Mike said plainly. “Burn it, toss it in the Hudson, I don’t fucking care how you do it, just get this shit out of my house.”

“Your house?” Richie scoffed, a bitterly unamused grin on his face. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize your fan fiction and DnD campaigns were paying for this place.” Mike always did this, always acted all high and mighty and made Richie feel like shit for needing a way to unwind or have a laugh from time to time. Richie knew that it came from a well-meaning place, that Mike was just trying to convince Richie to quit his bad habits, but the way he went about it kind of pissed Richie off. There was also the disappointment again, the reminder that Mike deserved better than Richie. Richie really didn’t know why his boyfriend tried so hard; Richie clearly wore him down.  

“Don’t start that,” Mike shook his head. “We both live here. We both pay rent and bills. If we get caught with this shit I’m taking the fall too. Don’t you care about that? Don’t you care what happens to me?” Richie rolled his eyes despite the guilt dragging his stomach down to his feet. Of course he cared, how could Mike not see that? And how could Mike not see what Richie needed? “We agreed you wouldn’t bring this here anymore. I just don’t understand why you’d lie to me.”

“Because you never hear any fucking side other than your own!” Richie exploded. “We don’t discuss, you just tell me what to do and assume I’ll follow every order you give me!”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize that ‘Please don’t bring illegal drugs into the house and then hide them from me, honey’ was such a controversial request!” The hurt Richie was feeling must’ve shown, because Mike sighed, his anger fizzling out a bit. “I’m just worried, Rich. This clearly isn’t just about having a good time every now and then. This keeps happening, and I think it’s a serious problem.”

“Why does it have to be a problem?” Richie challenged. “I’m functional. I shower and go to work and make money and eat food and drink water. I’m fine.”

“If you’re lying about it you know it’s wrong.”

“No, I know you think it’s wrong. That doesn’t make it wrong.”

“Are you happy without it?” Mike asked. His voice was so sincere, his eyes wide and brown and heartbroken. Mike was awful at hiding what he was feeling, so the sadness and pain in his voice and his eyes and his posture tore Richie up pretty bad. He hated himself for hurting Mike like that. It was selfish. But there were certain things Richie needed, and if those things hurt the ones he loved… then maybe the only way to stop hurting them was to leave them. But Richie had to make sure that wouldn’t hurt Mike, he had to make it Mike’s choice. He had to show Mike he wasn’t worth the effort or the pain he was putting himself through to stay with Richie.

“I can go without it,” was all he said, forcing an edge into his voice.

“Then why don’t you?” Richie was pleased to see that Mike was becoming irritated again. Good. He wanted Mike to see that he was better off without Richie dragging him down.

“Because I like it. That’s who I am, Mike,” Richie said helplessly, deflated. “You can take it or leave it, but stop trying to change it.”

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to change it! You can get better, Richie. I can help you get better.” Mike put a hand on Richie’s shoulder, which Richie shrugged off with an exasperated groan.

“I’m not something for you to fucking fix, okay? I know you wanna fix everything that you don’t like, but you can’t fix me! You can’t fix people!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry for wanting you help you,” Mike replied snidely.

“You don’t wanna help me, all you’re worried about is having a perfect boyfriend, or working on me like I’m a project to be accomplished and finished so you can feel good about yoursel. When are you gonna realize that I’m not a project? I’m a fucking person, and I’m never gonna be the person you want me to be.”

“I don’t treat people like projects!” Mike said defensively, his arms crossed.

“Yes, you do! You always have! You did the same thing to El and Will!” Richie watched all of the momentum of Mike’s anger drain from his body at Richie’s accusation. It made his blood run cold, the way Mike clenched his jaw, but he knew he was doing the right thing. Even if it felt awful for both of them, it was for the best in the long run.

“This isn’t about El or Will,” Mike said, his voice low and strained, trying to be measured. Richie felt a pang in his chest; he wondered if Mike had ever loved him as much as he clearly still loved both of them. “This is about you-”

“Do you think that’s why they both left you?” Richie urged on, stepping closer into Mike’s space. “Do you think they got sick of being your little projects?” Richie’s stomach dropped as he saw Mike’s lower lip start to quiver. No, he thought, nonononono. He could deal with Mike angry, he wanted him angry, but he couldn’t deal with tears. There was no way Richie could just stand there and watch him cry, he couldn’t walk away from that.

Thankfully, Mike’s misty eyes steeled then, and the coldness in them strengthened the coldness in Richie’s own chest. “I know that this,” Mike said, looking Richie up and down, almost in disgust, “is why Eddie left you.” And yeah, that hurt, but it was exactly what Richie needed to hear. And he was so glad Mike said it. It was the final push he needed to really walk away, to really push Mike far enough way that he could stop hurting him. “Maybe he had the right idea. He seems pretty happy these days.”

“Then leave,” Richie replied, his voice deep, almost threatening. None of the pain that was aching in every bone in his body showed through. “Fucking leave if you think it’ll make you happy. I don’t need your goddamn pity.” He swallowed thickly before forcing himself to say, “I don’t need you.” And god, the lie tasted bitter on his tongue, but Richie knew he would do anything he had to in order to save Mike the pain and disappointment.

Mike looked at Richie like he had slapped him. He wrapped his arms around himself as his lips quivered, searching for the right words. “Do you want me?” he asked eventually, his voice trembling. Richie clenched his jaw; he focused on the tears welling in Mike’s eyes, on the way he curled in on himself, as if he was afraid to be so close to Richie. He reminded himself that he did that, that he would continue to do that if he tried to make things better, if he kept holding onto someone he would only drag down.

“Not if you’re gonna try to control me like this,” he forced himself to say, his stomach churning at how easy and true he was able to make the words sound.

“You don’t mean that,” Mike said, shaking his head, his voice as thin as air.

“I do.” Richie’s heart sunk to his feet; he couldn’t help imagining a reality where he was saying that at an altar, where Mike still had tears in his eyes but a smile on his face.

The dam broke then, and Mike’s tears flowed freely. His body wracked with sobs, but he stayed put, not moving in any direction but further into himself. Richie couldn’t take that.

“Baby,” he whispered, taking a step toward Mike and reaching to pull him in.

“Baby?” Mike exploded, smacking Richie’s arm away as his head whipped up in fury. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? You’re breaking up with me for, for fucking drugs, and you’re trying to comfort me? You just told me you don’t want me and now you’re calling me baby?” Richie’s mouth opened and closed silently, the only part of his body he could move as the pain and anger and heartbreak in Mike’s watery eyes struck him like daggers. He grabbed the bag from the table and nearly threw it at Richie as he shoved him in the chest. “Fuck you. You can have this, since it makes you so much happier than I do.” Richie flinched. Mike stormed away toward the bedroom, shouting over his shoulder as he went. “I hope you shove it up your ass!” Mike slammed the bedroom door then, not giving Richie room to reply even if he could’ve thought of something to say.

Richie left the bag on the floor and collapsed onto the couch. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, one of which was bouncing incessantly. He eyed the bag, which sat on the floor where it had fallen at his feet. He hated how much he wanted to get his credit card out just then, how badly he wanted to feel that rush, to ignore all the bad feelings clawing at his heart. He just needed a distraction, needed to stop feeling the way he did. He heard muffled banging and talking coming from down the hall. He lay back on the couch, staring at the ceiling and picking at his hangnails. He resolved to not look at the bag while Mike was still home, but its very presence weighed down on his chest, had him itching for it. He’d been saving it for his day off, when Mike would be at work, but it sounded like he was gonna have the house to himself a lot sooner than that. Good, he thought, but he didn’t feel good at all.

Richie really didn’t know how much time had passed by the time Mike came storming out of the bedroom and began making a racket in the bathroom. A few minutes later he burst back into the living room, a nearly bursting backpack over one shoulder and a duffel bag over the other. Richie’s chest seized at the sight. He sat up, but didn’t move from the couch. “Going somewhere?” he asked, his voice rough. Mike turned to him, his face splotchy and eyes red.

“I’m gonna go stay with Nancy and Jonathan,” he said, his voice raw but steady. Richie blinked, trying to hold himself together.

“For how long?” His voice sounded much stronger than he felt, almost uncaring. He sounded like an asshole, which he supposed was appropriate.

“Until I find my own place, I guess,” Mike shrugged. Richie felt like he turned to stone just then. Mike looked at him then, and his eyes said it all. His wide, brown, red rimmed eyes. They were near pleading, and in that moment Richie knew Mike was giving him one last chance. Richie just had to get rid of the bag, he just had to swear it off. If he asked Mike to stay he would.

But he couldn’t do that to Mike. He loved him too much.

“Think there’s anything in your price range?” he smirked. “Or are you gonna have daddy pay for it?” He saw fire try to flash behind Mike’s eyes, but it died almost immediately. He shook his head, tired and disappointed in a way that made Richie want to melt into the floor.

“I really hope you get better, Richie.” He looked around the living room for a moment before finally meeting Richie’s eyes. “I really did love you.”

That nearly broke Richie. He screamed at himself internally in the breathless moment Mike took before turning toward the door. Don’t let him walk out that door, he told himself. Don’t let him go. You know you need him, you love him. Get on your fucking knees, beg, burn that shit, anything you have to do, just don’t let him leave you. Then, one silent plea to Mike before the door closed, Please don’t leave me.

Then he was gone.

Richie swallowed thickly. He thought he should feel tears, thought he should be crying, but he just felt a bone-deep, aching emptiness. He sighed and eyed the bag on the floor. He cleared the table and got his credit card out.

a/n:  I know this ending was very bleak and not promising, but that's just because it's a small snippet of this (fictional) universe. Like I said before, recovery is always possible! Help is out there, and it's okay if it takes some people longer than others to recover.<3

taglist: @clouded-eyes-and-salty-tears @reddie4thesinbin @deadlighturis @constantreaderfool @reddieloserz @jessicaheartsderry @vegetarian-avocado @tinyarmedtrex @sml1104 @chocolatemangoose

@reddie-for-anything

[kitchenwitchsuperwhovian]

We’re All a Little Mad Here

Pairings/Characters: Loki x Reader, Mr. Gold, Captain Hook, Prince Charming, Jefferson/Mad Hatter, Steve, Tony, Sam, Wanda, Vision, Thor, Natasha x Bucky mentions

Summary: Loki is surprised by the reader and what a surprise it is.

Prompts:  The TV Show Once Upon a Time and the Marvel character Loki.

Word Count: 5,231

Warnings: Nipple play, ice play (maybe?), bareback sex (it’s fiction people: Wrap it before you tap it.), shapeshifting, & marking the skin.

A/N: This is for @angryschnauzer and @feelmyroarrrr #FallForYou challenge. Hope you lovelies like my little spin on a somewhat classic fairytale. I know that I’m a bit late because life sucks sometimes so thank you for waiting so patiently. I did change some of the Marvel storylines to fit my story so any mistakes, I claim freely as mine. Thanks to my grammar beta, @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid.

*All Gif’s/Images used are not mine*

“Natasha, you grab the drinks and popcorn and I’ll start the que. Extra butter please.” Y/N shouted as she got comfortable on her beige couch.

“Yea yea yea, you heathen! Extra butter for you and cinnamon sugar for me. So, what episode are we on now?” Nat asked while noisily munching on her snack.

Y/N shot her a dirty look and smirked when Nat gave her the cross eyes while shaking her head back and forth. “Your favorite. How Jefferson became the Mad Hatter…” A faint blush rises on Natasha’s cheeks as Y/N snorts in glee.

Natasha gives her the stink eye and pushes her lightly in jest. “I never should have told you I think he looks like a younger, sexier Bucky. I’m never gonna live this down, am I?” Nat smiles widely as Y/N shakes her head no and continues to chuckle softly.

With the back to back missions lately, finding time to unwind with her fellow Avengers has been scarce. After a mission gone bad two years ago, Nat and Y/N became as thick as thieves, lending each other the support needed to come back to a small semblance of the new normal. Nat watches Y/N out the corner of her eye critically and her rapid-fire thoughts make a quick connection. Now to be subtle and ease the confession out of Y/N is the tricky part. She’s almost as good at keeping secrets as Fury and her.

“I have an idea. Why don’t we play the shots game with Once Upon a Time? F.R.I.D.A.Y. can record the rules and let us know when to take a shot or do a dare or truth or something. Like every time Gold says “dearie” or Snow gives a hug and so on. Come on, Y/N. We deserve to let loose after the shit we’ve seen in the last few weeks. PLEASE!” Natasha begs as she crawls over Y/N’s legs and pouts in her face using her best puppy dog eyes.

“FINE! But none of that nasty ass tequila. Tony still won’t let me use the pool by myself after last time….” She mumbles as Nat squeals and heads for her private stash of vodka. Y/N is in awe as she sees her remove a back panel of the freezer to pull out her almost full bottle of Diva Vodka that Tony lost to her in their last game of poker.

“Been saving this for just the right occasion. Tonight sounds good. Tony really knows his alcohol…” Nat murmurs as she sips the deliciously crisp vodka with a satisfied smirk on her ruby red lips.

Y/N eyes the shot glass like it’s going to jump up and bite her. She hesitantly downs the shot and comes back up gasping for air at the wicked burn the alcohol has going down her throat.

“Fuck Nat! Warn a bitch why don’t you? I really don’t want to know how much this costs do I?” Y/N wheezes as Nat sends a saucy wink her way.

“Nope. Just know that Tony never does anything by halves, alcohol especially. So let’s get started.”

As both women laugh while they make a standard set of rules, the men of the Avengers are back from a grueling mission. Mostly scratches and battered, war-torn suits but luckily the men walk away with no major injuries.

“Debrief and then take the rest of the week off guys, no missions pending of course. Thanks for the assist Thor and Loki.” Steve thanks them as he and Bucky discuss seeing a ball game tomorrow instead of staying in. Tony is helping Bruce to his quarters so he can de-stress from Hulking out for most of the mission which leaves Loki and Thor with no immediate plans.

“I think that a certain female would like your company brother.” Thor laughs while heartily patting Loki’s shoulder hard as Loki throws him a glare and a grimace.

“No idea what you mean. And take a shower. You smell like burnt wiring.” Loki huffs as Thor laughs at his poor mis-direction.

“I do believe the fair Natasha and Y/N are engaged in a... oh yes…. A binge in the entertainment room.” Thor suggests kindly as a brief flash of green sparks in Loki’s otherwise emotionless face.

“Brother, a word of advice, if I may?” Thor asks softly.

Loki sighs in resignation and faces Thor, standing resolutely still in a closed off position.

“As if I could stop you. Go on, Oh Great and Wise King.” Loki snarks as Thor waits patiently for some sign that Loki is open to what he has to say. Once he sees a slight softening of his posture and his eyes express his inquisitive nature does Thor impart his thoughts.

“Waiting too long and keeping secrets leads nowhere. Look at Father. Tell her how you feel before it’s too late. Or she may find another...I believe the Captain said that he admired her greatly the other day…” Thor states boldly as he sauntered out of the room, leaving Loki to ponder his words carefully.

“She would never be interested in someone like the good Captain Rogers. His is too by the book. She takes risks all the time. Well-calculated but risks just the same. She needs someone to fuel her passions as well as her mind and Rogers is a dullard in comparison to her wit and beauty.” Loki mumbles as he slowly proceeds to his debriefing.

After a quick shower and change of attire, Loki makes his way towards the entertainment room only to come to attention at Y/N’s shout, “NATASHA!”

With daggers is both hands, fingers gripped tightly to control his anger and magic, Loki stalks towards the slightly ajar door to be faced with the most unusual sight he’s ever seen. And he’s thousands of years old.

Natasha is standing in front of the viewing screen making kissing faces at the face of a man who looks suspiciously like a younger Barnes while Y/N cackles from the couch, steadily counting down to one.

“Three...Two...One! No more making out with Jefferson. I know he looks as fuckable as Barnes, Tash, but the amount of tongue you just used has me wondering just how cozy you and Winter have been lately….” Y/N pouts as Natasha takes a shot and plops down onto the couch with a silent sigh.

“Fine, I’ll tell you but you gotta swear on your collection of Howlies comics to never repeat what I tell you or I’ll burn them in Tony’s fireplace.” Nat whispers as Y/N’s face suddenly becomes serious. She takes a couple of moments to study her friend who has suddenly gone quiet and contemplative over her empty shot glass.

“Deal now what's going on in that spider-brain of yours?” Y/N whispers back as she gets comfortable in her mound of stolen pillows.

“James has been having frequent nightmares for the last few months with the upsurge of Hydra takedown missions. A lot of it is just memories of the torture he was inflicted but a couple times have been where the team was the people he killed. He sleeps better with a warm body by him at night to whisper things like what year it is, where he is, his full name and birthdate. Then he has someone to ground him in this reality.”

“Some nights he just needs a release, like something or someone to wear him out enough to get some solid sleep. So two months ago, we kinda hooked up. And they do not lie about super stamina!” Nat laughs at Y/N’s wide eyed stare.

“Details woman! I need details! Size, shape, favorite move, all of it girl!” Y/N squeals as she hugs Nat tight.  As she fills Y/N about the nitty gritty details about her and James, Natasha spies a certain God standing still in the doorway, taking in everything Y/N is doing. She has enough sobriety in her system to catalogue his reaction to Y/N’s more than oblivious nature.

“So while we’re talking about attractions and likes, anyone catch your eye?” Nat smirks as Y/N drunkenly tries to pour another shot. Some spills on the table and in a surprising move, she swipes up the liquid with her tongue and smacks her lips in satisfaction. Y/N fails to hear the low groan of hunger from the doorway as Nat laughs at her friends drunken antics.

“Well, Hook is hot cause ya’ know, badass and all. Charming is okay for like the one night stand. So is Jefferson to be honest but I think I’d rather bang Gold. Just imagine the experience the man has plus the accent combines with his magic, fuck I could come just from his dirty talk alone.” Y/N sighs as she looks at Tasha through hazy eyes.

“Oh sweetie, I meant the real world, you know like Sam or Cap or Tony. Why the men from the show though?” Nat asks honestly as Y/N takes a moment to collect her scattered thoughts. Dark smiles and lingering gazing float heavily in her mind as with a sigh, Y/N hugs a pillow tight to her chest as she feels the tears start to gather in her eyes.

“You know how everyone says that they’ve been in love, Nat. Even Tony, the…..how did he put it? Billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. I’ve never been in love and no one has loved me either. Family love is different than romantic love. Who wants to be with a woman who can do what I do, Nat? I’ve always been on the sidelines looking out at the world as the world around me falls in love. Hell, Cap experienced love before the ice so that means I have a chance though, right?” Y/N whispers with a choked hiccup, as she valiantly tries to suppress the deep sadness her disclosure revealed.

“Sorry for the sudden pity party Tash. I just needed to get it out into the Aether so I can move on. Who knew a woman of my age still dreamt of her own Prince Charming? I think it’s time for bed for me though. Stay and finish the episode and keep taking care of James. I know you both need each other more than you let on. Goodnight sestra.” Y/N kisses the top of her friends head and walks quietly back to her room with a melancholic air. She just misses the slight flash of green of Loki’s magic as he makes himself disappear. She also doesn’t acknowledge Tony or Sam as they pass her in greeting and both look to Loki with questions he cannot answer.

A few days pass and things seems to get back to normal. Y/N keeps up the cheerful face her friends have come to expect from her but a pair of somber forest-like eyes watch as cracks appear in her facade which none but he and the widow catch. Nat corners Loki later in the library and confronts him on his feeling for Y/N. Once she judged him sincere, they plot of a way to show Y/N how appreciated she really is.

Y/N is laying facedown on her queen size bed, pillows strewn haphazardly around her frame, covers bunched over her cold feet to ward off the sudden chill in the air. When she notices a puff of white breath escape her lips, she rolls her eyes and shouts for Loki to enter. He laughs low and mischievously and it resonates through Y/N’s frame like a lust-filled fog.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, oh God of Mischief and Revelry?” Y/N snarks as his grin grows slightly wolfish.

“Do I need an excuse to see such a beauty as yourself, oh sweet princess of my heart.” Loki states softly as he stands near the head of her bed, looking at hY/N expectantly with his hands crossed over his heart and his lashes flutter like a cartoon princess.

A soft blush graces her cheeks as she scoots over to allow room for his lithe form.

“Join me in the clouds, Prince Loki. It will be an experience you shall never forget.” Y/N coos as she gives him a sultry pout. His sudden bark of laughter has a spark of glee flashing in Y/E/C eyes.

“Seriously, park it oh great and powerful God. I want snuggles and your body has a nice chill I like to cuddle with. Don’t tell Tash or she’ll mess with my thermostat again. A whole month of near freezing temperatures is cold enough for me….” Y/N whispers as she resettles the pillows around her head.

Loki removes his green leather cover and unfastens his weapons belt to gently lay them both on her black recliner. Another moment has his shoes kicked under the bed and his shirt unbuttoned and falling to the floor with a soft thud. Y/N barely bites back the moan at the sight of his unblemished skin but something catches her eye. A deep scar appears on his torso but the next second, is winked out in favor of smooth skin.

As Y/N continues to stare at Loki’s chest, he begins to fidget and squirm under her intense scrutiny. He is stunned when she quickly rises to sit at the edge of the bed, firmly grabbing his sides and places his form directly in front of her panting lips. She licks her lips slowly in concentration and the low growl he emits shocks her out of her focused inquiry.

“Loki, is this an illusion?” She whispers while trying to read the truth in his eyes. By the darkening of his pupils and his sharp intake of air, a moment of stillness takes over the once over-loud room.

He coughs a little to clear his throat and croaks out, “Everything can be an illusion with the right mindset.” He watches on in fascination as she seems to sweep away his illusion to reveal bits of his Jotun form. He growls low in warning as she edges closer to his natural state. His illusion is completely shattered by her actions as she gently places a kiss to the deepest of the scars and murmurs a low hum of sorry’s that have tears falling from both their eyes. His in shame and fear and hers in sorrow and pain for the tortures he had to have faced to garner such scars.

A quick knock on her door has both jumping apart in guilt as Y/N yells a watery, “Come in.”

Steve pokes his head around the corner of her door with a sheepish grin. “Sorry if I’m interrupting anything but have you seen Buck and Nat? We’re supposed to have a TV marathon of one of the shows on my list and I’ve looked everywhere.”

At Loki’s snort and Y/N’s giggle, Steve looks them in the eye and tries to use his best “dad voice” to get some answers.

“Sorry, Steve but I think that you’re shit out of luck on this one. Ask Sam and Wanda to watch with you since Tony, Thor, and Vision went out earlier.”

With one last questioning look, Steve huffs out the door, kinda pissed his so called friends decided to ditch him. As the door clicks shut once more, bothe occupants burst into maniacal laughter at their truly clueless friend.

“You would think one in such an advanced age might catch on to the fact his two best friends have hooked up would cross his mind but he really is that clueless…” Loki mutters as Y/N takes in his relaxed demeanor. She gently takes his hand and pulls him to sit next to her on the bed. They both take a moment to relish the comfortable silence as peace settles over their minds.

“How did you see? Not even Thor can see through the elaborate illusions I create. Fools him every time, the dolt.” Loki asks in honest curiosity.

“It’s a part of my unique ability. I can see to the heart or the truth of a matter, if I concentrate enough that is. I’m an emotional empath on a good day but wading through so many emotions constantly clouds the pathways. I guess it was the right time to see the unseen. Are you mad?” Y/N asks softly as she nervously fiddles with her fingers in the blankets.

“Mad, no. In awe, yes. You have no idea how much I need someone to see. Not just the illusion but to see the real me and not cower in fear or to rise in anger to battle.” Loki whispers as he gently takes her twitching finger and places them in his hands calmly. He clears his throat and asks in trepidation, “Do you wish to see it all? My true form. I must warn you, it is quite a shock.”

“If I can handle a naked Bruce after a Hulk-out, I can pretty much handle anything.” Y/N states proudly as she squeezes his hands in reassurance.

With a flurry of green flashes, Loki’s Jotun form pops into existence. Where once pale skin and forest-green eyes was, a sky blue of swirls and scars shadows a sullen and wounded crimson eyes of red. A subtle flinch is the only reaction he has as she gently traces the patterns across his cheeks and brow. At a nearly silent sniffle, Loki meets her teary eyes and she whispers it’s okay as he clings to her trembling frame.

A harsh bark of laughter proceeds the psychological breaking of the dam of Loki’s emotions that is released in the arms of an understand Y/N. As she gently coos nonsensical words while rubbing calming circles in his war-torn skin, Loki feels a feather-light touch in his heart as a glow of warmth fans into an ember of peace. The ember flames into a warmth that he has not felt since he was in Frigga’s last gentle embrace. The rush of emotions leaves Loki weak and tired so Y/N gently lays him in her bed and makes to leave so that he may rest.

“Stay, love. I need...well…” Loki trails off as his illusion gradually returns him to his former state. However the lingering look of pain, panic, shame, and fear in his emerald eyes have Y/N pulling back the covers and snuggling in close to his slightly chilled chest. With a sigh of acceptance, they both drift off to sleep, dreaming of each other.

The perception of a cool breeze across her neck has Y/N stretching into the sensation. As the breeze descends her body, gooseflesh rise in reaction across her flesh.  Her nipples pebble as she moans in sweetest of agony when the breeze seems to swirl and suck as a lilting male voice whispers from her dreams.

“Open your eyes, Y/N. Dreams are meant to be made into reality.” Loki whispers across her chest as the chilling sensation ebbs and swirls around her neck like a gentle kiss.

Y/N gradually opens her sleepy eyes to see a smirking God lingering over her scantily clad chest.

She watches in fascination as a cloud of cold air escapes his sinful lips to twirl and twist around her beaded nipple. A low moan escapes as Y/N arches into the phantom lover. “Loki, please.” She begs as the wind gets harsher and colder. Just as she’s on the razor’s edge of ecstasy, the mist disappears as if it never was.

Y/N’s harsh panting has a smug grin forming on Loki’s lips as she tries to collect her thoughts in order. They scatter like the wind as Loki gracefully slides his slender fingers along the bottom of her lace bralette, looking in her eyes for permission to continue. At her shallow nod, his grin turns wicked as he tears it in two and descends on her breasts like a man starved. He manages to nip and lick at every sensitive spot except the beaded pearls throbbing for his touch.

A pained groan of denied pleasure has Loki chuckling darkly across her sensitive flesh. “Did you wish for something, my dear? Or is it someone you wish for?” He whispers as he suddenly changes into Prince Charming.

“Do you wish for a noble knight to take you to heights of pleasure you’ve only dreamt about?” he whispers as he lightly pinches her left nipple.

“Or do you wish for man to make you mad with desire?” As Loki morphs into Mad Hatter, dark kohl-lined eyes and all as he harshly nips and licks the throbbing tips.

“Or do you wish to be taken over and over again until nothing but the sea can calm you?” Loki whispers as with a flourish of green mist, Hook appears with a realistically sharp hook on his left hand. Y/N watches in equal parts fear and fascination as he takes the tip and gently rakes it across her sensitive tip, grinning in approval at the lusty moans Y/N tries to suppress.

“Or would you rather have a Dark Lord magically make every wish come true, dearie?” Loki pants as his features transform into Gold, wicked grin and all. “Do you wish for magic hands or teeth, my dear?” He asks in his gravel-laden accent as phantom hands play with her over-stimulated breasts while sharp teeth nip and bite her painfully hard nipples.

“Hmmm, dearie. What will it be: A Prince, a Madman, a Pirate, or Me? Choose wisely for magic always comes with a price…” Gold whispers into her ear as everything suddenly fades into silence. Y/N takes a deep breath and looks at the illusion of a forgotten fantasy as soon as her Dark God appeared next to the God of Thunder all those years ago.

“I choose you. The God of Mischief and Revelry, Loki Laufeyson Odinson. All parts of you, Jotun included love.” Y/N whispers as she hangs all her hopes and future dreams on the one being with the ability to crush her into dust, if he so chose.

All of the illusions fade away to reveal the crimson orbs of her love, silent tears falling down his beautiful sky-colored face. In a voice choked with emotion, his whispered plea reaches her ears on a breath of chilled air. “Again, my love. Say it again.”

“I.” *kiss* “Love.” *kiss*  “You.” *kiss* “Loki.” *kiss*  “Only you.” Y/N murmurs softly against his tear-stained cheeks, ending with a soft press of lips and a sigh of relief.

The kiss quickly turns hungry as Y/N moans at the chilled relief to her pleasantly tortured nipples. Loki uses his magic to make all of their clothing disappear. At the insistent throbbing of her core, she surprises Loki by rolling them until she is riding his thick, muscled thigh. The delicious friction of his flexing thigh has Y/N panting as she glides her wet, swollen lips over his muscles, straining for the release she was denied with Loki’s earlier teasing.

“Pet, slow down. We have eternity to seek these pleasures. Let me show you how to be worshiped by a God.” Loki pants as Y/N’s slick leaves a trail up and down his thigh, her leg occasionally brushing his shaft. Her mewls of need cause the rise of his magic to ebb and flow around her tender and aching bud in a swirl of suction. Y/N’s eyes go wide before they roll back into her head and she screams his name to the heavens in release. Her fluids run free down his thigh and pool under him while she shivers and shakes.

She slumps onto his ridged form and attempts to even her breathing. Y/N absentmindedly is tracing circles and swirls around his sensitive nipples and with a sharp flick of a nail, she grazes the tip. A stuttered moan from Loki has Y/N looking at him in a haze of lust. A truly sinful smile graces her features as she rises above him to rest her mound on his torso. A slow roll of her hips as she braces her hands on his shoulders has his eyes crossing in pleasure and Y/N chuckles darkly over his lips.

“Ready for more, my Dark God?” She pants as she grinds on his shaft, her juices coating his painfully hard cock.

“Are you, Y/N?” Loki breathes across her lips as he suddenly grasps her sides with his nimble fingers and glides them across her dewy skin.  She moans quietly as his hands and magic work in tandem across her back and ass while he sucks a dark mark upon the delicate curve of her neck.

“Loki.” She moans and he helps her grind across his aroused flesh by grabbing fistfulls of her ass and directing her motions. A drop of precum oozes from his shaft and his mind is suddenly overrun with filling her with his seed. Y/N feels his shaft throbbing and with every slow grind across her clit, the waves of her arousal threaten to break.

“Loki, more please. I need you...oh” Y/N cries out as a tendril of his magic pulses within her depths. As he sucks and bites at her nipples, his magic thrusts gently into her sheath with a life-like intensity that sends her senses reeling.

“Fuck, oh, Loki, I, oh…” Y/N moans as his magic sends tendrils of icy waves to caress her g-spot with an insistent rhythm. With a choked cry and tears of joy streaming down her face, Y/N’s cunt spasms uncontrollably as her second orgasm breaks and her vision goes white. When she comes back to herself, she is lying on the bed with Loki’s face poised above her clit. With a gentle puff of air across her clit, Y/N whimpers as the over-sensitive bud throbs in time with her erratic heartbeat.

“Welcome back love. Ready for more?” He whispers as he adjusts his position and his shafts glides smoothly across her slick covered lips, flushed red and pulsating in need. She lazily drapes her arms around his neck and gently guides his lips to hers as she whispers her wish.

“Make me yours, my Dark God.”

Y/N has no time to brace herself as Loki takes his shaft in hand and guides it slowly into her quivering sheath. Once his hips rest flush against Y/N’s, they both take a moment to relish the closeness of being joined as one. Y/N looks into his eyes and watches as a spark of magic swallows the pupils while they darken to a midnight sky, Loki pulls his shaft out till only the tip is resting inside Y/N. He waits a heartbeat, waiting for a sign from Y/N’s body that she is ready for him.

When she squirms and tries to lower onto his shaft, he grins wickedly and licks his suddenly dry lips. “Loki.” Y/N whines and the air leaves her in a rush as he grips her legs and spreads them as wide as they can go while gently pushing them out till she is white knuckled and gripping her knees tight to her chest.

“Hold on, love.” Is Y/N’s only warning before Loki begins a punishing pace of thrust and retreat. The very air is lost to Y/N as each stroke fuels the raging fire and passion that is Loki. All the while, his lips hover over her ear, crooning filthy words of lust and desire.

“I'm going to fuck this pussy so hard that you won’t be able to walk for a week. Look at this cunt taking me so well. Can’t wait til you strangle my dick as you cum from my voice alone. You’re just a slut for my cum, aren’t you pet?  Do you want that, Y/N? To be my little cum slut? Want me to cum in you all night and day, only stopping to sleep. I want to cum so hard Y/N that my cum will leak from you for hours after I’m done with you. I’m going to cum in this pretty little pussy. You’d like that, wouldn't you pet? Your hungry little sheath milking me dry, waiting for my seed to take root. Will you let me take you, anywhere, anytime, just a receptacle for my cum until your belly is nice and round with my child?”

At the image of being pregnant with Loki’s child settles in her mind, Y/N screams her release into the room, Loki’s pleasured grunt echoing shortly after as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. She feels a foreign pressure below as her cunt flutters with her ongoing climax. Loki looks her in the eyes and when he has her full attention, he slowly licks her nipple and sucks it into his warm mouth. Her eyes widen in arousal and a tiny bit of fear as he suctions hard and nips the aching bud between his teeth. At the exquisite pain, her sheath clamps down once and Y/N’s entire body bows hard as a sudden rush of liquid gushes around his shaft. The pressure sends her senses into overdrive and without a break in its intensity, Y/N is rendered unconscious.

“Y/N!” Loki shouts into her chest as his neck strains and his back bows hard while his shaft pulses warmly within her clenching walls. He collapses ungracefully onto her unconscious form as his cock continues to spasm and jerk with his prolonged release. He lets out a ragged sigh as the pulsing of her walls slows to a gentle throb which caresses one final pulse of cum from his sensitive cock.

Loki lifts his head to ask Y/N a question and is startled to see her snoring softly with a blissed out expression on her face. He gently moves around a little so that she is not crushed under his weight without removing his cock from her depths and settles in to sleep. He likes feeling connected to her and when they wake, they can work out where they wish to go from here. All he knows is that without her understanding and loving nature, he might as well be as Mad as a Hatter.

Source link: Diva: the premier bottle of Diva Vodka - $1,000,000.

Sestra: Sister

[echelonlab-blog]

Reigning Madness – Chapter 62

Masterlist

Disclaimer: Fiction.

Warnings:  None

Tagging: @hazeleyedleto @msroxyblog @letojokerownsme @miss-shannanigans @snewsome756   @maliciousalishious   @nikkitasevoli@meghan12151977 @mindlessselfindulgence88 @sanellv@ambolton@jayded-reality @bradlea23@spillinginkwithlove@alexis7215@dezmarz@pezziecoyote@whoistheprettiest@avaj99@iridescxntsolitude@pheenixpeterson @guccilowell@blondiefrommars @rowen1976​

Jared’s POV:

  “Mr. Leto, she says you can come back now,” the nurse said with a smile. I got up from the plastic waiting room chair and followed her into the softly lit maternity suite. There was a knot of unease in the pit of my stomach that I couldn't shake. As soon as I entered the room I was rushed by a swarm of young children.

   “Kids, give your Daddy some space so he can come see your new little brother,” a nasal and unpleasantly familiar voice instructed. The children just kept jumping around me and hugging my legs. “Jared Jr, Courtney, Camry, Cayenne! I mean it!”

   The kids groaned and grumbled before going to gather back around the bed where Cynnamon was reclining, a newborn in her arms. “Isn't he handsome, J-roy? Jaxxen looks just like you!” she cooed.

   My heart raced and my palms grew clammy as I took the tiny bundle from her. The oldest girl climbed up on the bed, and though she couldn't have been more than about six years old she was wearing a sports bra, makeup, and false eyelashes. “Mommy,” she whined, “I'm going to miss my dance class!”

   “Ugh, where is that girl?” Cynnamon huffed. “I don't know why I let you hire her, Jared. She's always late and she's always giving me dirty looks. She's so jealous.”

   “She needed the work, Cynn,” I pointed out. Baby Jaxxon started crying and I bounced him to try to calm him while Jared Jr. zoomed around my knees making car noises.

   “Well, Courtney can't be late for her dance class. You know she's already very focused on her career. Aren't you sugar pie?” Cynnamon added as she beamed at Courtney. Courtney just rolled her eyes at her mother and popped her gum.

   Caroline rushed into the room just then, wearing a navy blue dress that came halfway to her ankles and was closed at the neck with a peter pan collar. In place of a ponytail, she wore a matronly bun. “I'm sorry Mr. and Mrs. Leto,” she panted. “I went to pick up Camry and Cayenne's new pageant dresses but there was a mix-up...”

   “I don't care about your stupid excuses!” Cynnamon cut her off. “Can't you see you're ruining my family's special day? J-roy, do something!” she whined.

   “Now Cynnamon baby, do you want me to do something or do you want her to take Courtney to her class?” I asked. Cynn just huffed and crossed her arms. “Courtney, hurry up and go with Caroline,”

   “Why can't I have a new nanny, Daddy?” Courtney pouted and batted her eyes at me just the way Cynnamon did when she wanted something. “This one is so ugly and she cries in the bathroom when she thinks we can't hear her.”

   Cynnamon laughed and I handed her the baby back as Caroline whirled around and ran from the room in tears. As all children started calling for Daddy at once I looked around at what my life had become, all because I hadn't seen Cynnamon for what she was at the start and hadn't stood up to her the way I should have. They pulled at my pant legs and got under my feet so I couldn't move, and the entire time I could hear Cynnamon's laugh in the background, harsh and cruel.

   “Mr. Leto?” Someone was calling my name but I couldn't make out from where over the din. “Jared? Jared!”

   I awoke with a start, covered in a thin sheen of sweat with my phone sounding its alarm from the bedside table. Fuck. Not again. I shut the phone off and stumbled into the bathroom to splash some water on my face before calling Caroline. We were away for three weeks of European dates and Caroline and I had arranged a Skype session for tonight. I was actually grateful this time for having to wake up in the middle of the night to talk to her, at least it had interrupted that terrible nightmare.

   Once the Skype call had connected Caroline immediately took in my appearance and deduced what had happened. “That dream again?” she asked. I nodded. “That's the, what, fifth time now?”

   “I know,” I said. Ever since the blow up at the ultrasound appointment, Cynnamon had been keeping me away and my imagination was running wild. No matter how much I hoped it wasn't the case there was still the possibility in the back of my mind that this was my child, and that Cynnamon was out there making decisions for it without me. That fear was manifesting itself in my dreams of raising a horde of mindless Cynnamon clones with her shepherding their tiny little glitter covered heads through the worst kind of fame chasing. “They were in pageants, Caroline. And I'm pretty sure Courtney's dance class was pole dancing for preschoolers.”

   Caroline laughed. “You have to let it go, Jared. There's nothing you can do about it right now.”

   “Camry, Caroline. She named our daughter after a Toyota.”

   “Well I hope you're at least fucking the nanny,” Caroline said with a wink.

   “I'm glad you think this is funny,” I growled. Caroline frowned at me.

   “I'm just trying to maintain a sense of humor, Jared. It's just a dream. You know you don't have twin daughters named after an affordable car and a spice, right?”

   I sighed. “She could be doing anything right now, Care...”

   “And you'll deal with it when you get back. Eleven more days.”

   I knew she was right. There was only so much Cynnamon could do at this stage of the pregnancy. The real decisions would be made closer to birth and immediately after. We were ready to file a court order for the earliest medically feasible paternity test available but until we got those results, Cynnamon would be calling the shots. It terrified me to think of the damage she could do in that short time, especially now that she seemed to determined to shut me out.

   This, of course, was an aspect of all of this I hadn't foreseen. If you had told me before all this started that I would be upset at being excluded from Cynnamon and her pregnancy drama I would have told you that you were crazy, no way did I want to get caught up in that. But with every appointment, every test result, every chance to hear a heartbeat or feel a kick or see the outline of the little life growing inside Cynnamon's stomach my attitude began to change. Of course, I didn't want anything tying me to Cynn one minute longer than necessary, especially not a child, but I was beginning to rethink my entire stance on my perpetual bachelorhood. Maybe having a family of my own wouldn't be the limiting experience I thought it would be. And it was still early with Caroline, but I had to admit the way I felt about her was much different than with any other woman I had been with. As I watched her smiling and laughing as she tried to cheer me up I began to think that just maybe.....

   “So what do you think?” Caroline asked, her quizzical face filling the laptop screen. I had been so lost in thought I had no idea what she was asking about.

   “Uhm...”

   “You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?” she asked. I just shook my head in embarrassment. “It's okay. I know how stressed out you are right now. You look exhausted. Why don't  you try to go back to sleep and we'll talk again tomorrow night? Same time?”

   “I don't know if I can get back to sleep after that vision of Cynnamon and her nightmare litter, but, yeah, I am really tired. Thank you for being so understanding. I love you, Care,” I told her.

   “Love you too, J-roy,” she said with a laugh. I shook my head and disconnected the call.

   Contrary to what I thought I was asleep again the minute my head hit the pillow. The next thing I remember my phone was ringing and I was confused to find out it was morning and I had slept through my alarm. A glance at the screen told me it was Emma calling, but since we were knee deep in tour dates I could have predicted that before ever touching the phone.

   “Hey, Emma,” I said as I answered. “I'm sorry, I slept through my alarm. I'm about to get in the shower right now.”

   “Well make it quick,” she admonished. “The reporter from Spex is going to be here in fifteen minutes.”

   I got out of the shower to find Shayla had let herself in and was tidying things up in preparation for the reporter's arrival. I thanked her before going to get dressed. By the time I was ready she had the reporter seated in the other half of the suite with a coffee and there was tea, a bowl of muesli and some fruit laid out for me.

   “I hope you don't mind,” I said, gesturing to the spread in front of me. “I'm a little pressed for time this tour. Did Shayla offer you something?”

   “It's fine,” he said with a smile. “And yes, she did but I've already eaten.”

   We had a pleasant enough chat about how the tour was going and the unique story behind this album. He moved on to asking about upcoming projects and then there were some lighter questions about things like if I would return to acting, what had inspired my drastic haircut, what was my favorite part of touring. I thought the interview was going smoothly and I was relaxed and enjoying myself when the bombshell dropped.

   “And so, Jared, how do you think fatherhood is going to fit in with your busy life? Will you be making adjustments to your grueling schedule to have more time with your girlfriend and your new baby?”

   For a minute I wondered if I should pinch myself, maybe I was having another nightmare. When I realized I wasn't I wanted to punch the guy but the reporter was looking at me so sincerely and benignly I didn't think he had any idea he had blindsided me. “I don't know what you mean. My girlfriend isn't pregnant,” I told him. Which was the truth.

   The reporter furrowed his brow in confusion. “I'm sorry, I was just repeating information from the wire story I picked up this morning...”

   That feeling of panic from my nightmare swelled up in me in an instant and I swiftly rose to my feet, nearly knocking my empty tea mug into the floor. “This interview is over,” I stated flatly as I retreated back to my bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind me.

[christophercori]

Possible Blog/Journal Entry Nov 18, 2015

Ok. So, the following “entry” was written while In Brooklyn House Detention Center, overlooking the Carroll Gardens/ Crown Heights (right neighborhood?) shortly after being remanded back into custody after being out on ball for not even 30 days, following nearly 8 months on Rikers Island, which was excruciating enough in and of itself. Needless to say, my unexpected reintroduction into yet another lion’s den, after such a brief taste of freedom, was nothing short of a bad hit”, leaving the proceeding mood to be plenty somber. And so commences the woeful narrative of a young man in reflection.

House Lights:  Dim Music:  Cur ominous/dramatic, foreshadowing Jazz Note:  Written as if in Retrospection from some point in the future. So, let’s get this out of the way. between 21 and 25 I was in and out of jail. Yes, me the handsome suburban “white” boy. I had two major stints each lasting about a year (second on more like 3) with maybe a year and some change of freedom in between. You better believe there is nothing more soul-crushing than getting your life back together after a year in the “can”, just to have it taken from you all over again. Sure, I’m responsible for ending up there in first place, I made some poor, impulsive decisions I mean, sue me. Who makes many good decisions in their early twenties anyway? I just happen to have been in that small majority (oxymoron?) of poor suckers who get caught, mainly because I got to be one of those assholes so full of myself, I never thought it would happen to me. Some things I wish I could take back, but other aspects of it I am grateful for and would consider an instrumental part of my personal evolution. Why was I in jail you ask? Well the finer details will have to be suspend until a much lengthier piece comes into being, but the long short of it is the result of my menacing and hostile behavior resulting from emotional instability and substance abuse. Had I been healthier and more stable at the times of my arrest, probably none of it would have ever happened, but we can't turn back time and I've long since come to terms with paying the price of allowing myself to get spread so thin and become so unhealthy to the point where I’ve lashed out at those around me. While I’m far from playing the victim in any context, it's still ridiculous that I even did time for the petty bullshit I got myself wrapped up in, but in the end, I take responsibility for my actions and after all the insanity, I think I can say with confidence that I'm a better man for it.  Even more grateful am I than for the lessons I learned along the way, are the amazing people I was blessed enough to cross paths with, who also, totally did not deserve to be there, just as they felt about me. Some people just have “dumb luck” enough, I guess, to get their hand caught in the cookie jar, doing something the law makers” generally from upon. Rut just because you may have allegedly done questionable in the eyes of society, one cannot fairly or appropriately labeled a bad person”, something which needs serious clarification here. Just because you've been to jail or even have a felony as a result, doesn't mean society reserves the right to judge or even stigmatize you (even though they do, the fuckers). A majority of civilians, not much unlike yourself, have no idea how the criminal justice system really works (how could you without having experienced it first hand?) and to what degree it victimizes and deliberately, calculatingly dismantles the lives of some very good, if at most misguided, “impulse control lacking” individuals, who have had the misfortune of, more or less, being in the wrong place at the wrong time. A majority of people who even end up arrested are victimized by some king of discrimination (a huge issue to be revisited another time), a mental breakdown we’ve all bad those moments), or guilt by association (some people truly are innocent and get caught in the crossfire of hanging with the wrong crowd). Now, once they have their slimy claws in you, they'll bleed you dry, break you down and do everything they can to kill your spirit, backing you into a corner where you're ready to hang it un or plead guilty just to get the hell out of jail (or onto state prison, which gets the clock ticking), which la not the most pleasant place to be to say the least. It's certainly not terrible (surprising, hub?), this is isn't Hollywood people, but it's no Holiday Inn either, as they say. So, after a couple of months of fighting the power, no matter how proud, strong, or rebellious you are, just about everyone sets themselves up to be haunted by this enslavement, in some way, for the rest of their lives. End of Entry #1 (to be expanded upon?)

Entry #2: Postured for a new day/first post launch of a new blog/publication whatever the kids are calling it these days. Hey Everybody and welcome to the disorienting documentation of my mind-boggling life (As if you care [laughs]). First, let me start by saying that I think this journey I am (we are) about to embark on is absolutely friggin’ ridiculous, but for some reason it appears to be one of the necessary evils of modern life for anyone who wants to be noticed for anything. Gone are the days of the next big thing showing up on a street corner, strumming a six string for space change. No those days are long gone and have been replaced by compulsive teenyboppers (is that even a category anymore?) and obsessive narcissists compulsively posting self-indulgent excrement out on every social media outlet available. Regardless of how socially retarded people have become as a result, for some freakish reason, it works People are gaining notoriety from this dysfunction, fame ever (or some bizarre degree of it) And even though human beings are gradually losing their ability to function naturally and normally in everyday life, thanks to their addiction to living though palm sized screens, this is how anything worth knowing about, gets circulated. Or at least that’s what the marketing professionals would like us to believe. While dinosaurs like me might go to the library, pick up a newspaper, drop by a community center, or peruse a bulletin board at a local coffee shop, the greater percentage of “society” is thumb-tapping their way through the search bar of their preferred information engine. I guess at the end of the day there’s nothing wrong with it except of course, the inability to say hello to a passing stranger, or get through a meal without checking for alerts, which is so incredibly rude, by the way. I suppose it's just about time that I catch up with the rest of the wonderfully dystopian populace. Like the old saying goes: “if you can’t fight’em, join'em”. So here I am world. From here on in you’re going to get to completely invade my privacy whether you like it or not. Because whether you care to cyberstalk me or otherwise, the people I'm looking for might just take notice and maybe, just maybe, it will bring me closer to my goals. So get ready world, as I post, tweet click, and ping my way through the twenty first century, while I attempt not to throw up all over myself and everything I value about my individuality. Here's to kissing that all Goodbye. Here's to my rebirth as a regular ratchet ho. End of Entry #2 Note: Disorienting originally was “Digital” after typing it up I see it probably should have been changed. Note: this could also be used as part of a fictional storyline/script as I'm not sure I could lower myself to actually publishing this.

Entry #3: Reminiscence Rant Can you remember when everything was just fucking awesome? I can. What, in God's most holy name, happened to those mind-bogglingly epic adventures? The endless nights and following morning where we wandered for miles peaking on LSD, experiencing the supernatural, making friends with homeless cartoon characters and stubborn runaway suburban kids calling themselves “gutterpunks” and “Occupiers”. What happened to the times when, all of a sudden, I'm on a subway wearing a stolen skintight glitter shirt, doing backflips next to a girl rocking a panda-bear cap with these stupid little gloves hanging like arms from either end of the accessory, while on the way to some disgusting, mold infested, totally illegal, basement rave with the illest DJs on the planet spinning the most face meltingly ass-shaking, torso-wiggling, abso-fucking-lutely, subatomically intoxicating dubstep that these ear pieces have ever had the pleasure of being blown away by. Bassdropping capsules of MDMA while being passed an endless chain of blunts until after what feels like no time at all, someone is shaking me awake, and just when I’m about to question if any of this is real, a fat glow in the dark Eskimo shapeshifter, ever so gently guides me to the exit which opens to reveal the painful slap In the face of bright, 8 in the morning daylight, only to look at mv fellow nightlife cohorts who are smiling, still wired, totally ready to continue the adventure; the words “what do we do now?” never once crossing the mind, as the flow that we're grooving with is unquestionably sure of itself. Man, how I miss those sacred moments. Will I ever get them back? Or is my yearning for them and desire to pursue or force moments like those into being. Exactly what is keeping them out of my life? Better yet, maybe those kinds of ridiculous things are only allowed to happen at certain points of one’s youth when even attempting to live so irresponsibly is even an iota within the realm of acceptable and to pursue such experiences is categorically “juvenile”? Well, fuck that!! I have faith, yet. One day, I'm gonna breath in the taste of that on-top-of-the-world air, no matter how old I get. I don’t care what anybody says. There’s no cut off age for soulshaking borderline religious experiences, never-going-to-feel-the-same-way-about-having fun. Sure, we all do have to accept reality and the responsibilities of adulthood, but that’s no reason to get bitter. Just because it’s not happening for us right now, and there seems like there are still people out there, yet to step off the “magical schoolbus.” But, how do we get back on? Does all of this fall into that realm of philosophical conversations we have at three O'clock in the morning, stoned, contemplating the meaning of life and the pursuit of happiness? It might just be. Maybe all of this just falls into the very personal narrative of my never ending quest to he truly happy, a point which I'm presently a ways from.

Having been there before, I know I'll be there again and while I'm not terribly depressed at the moment, it doesn't seem all that far away. In fact, I have a more or less framework plan for how I'm going to get there when I move on from where I’m at now, but the first step is getting out of this place. Part of me is just totally stunned at life’s great contrast. How can you go from being a happy go lucky, free spirits urban street showman, to living in a cesspool of society’s unwanted pregnancies, in what feels like a blink of an eye? Boy does time fly. What feels like yesterday, simultaneously feels like eons ago. A lifetime ago. Earlier today, some mad at the world hoodrat wannabee gangster told me I sounded like an old man, reminiscing over decades of life.

To which I responded: I’ve lived. That I sure have. I’m 23 years old and I've lived a lot of life, the details for which I’ve got little to show for other than my own words and the culmination of institution records labeling me as Bipolar, criminal, drug abuser. That's right. On paper, I’m a dual diagnosis, polysubstance abusing, mentally-ill criminal, presently laid up in jail, the lone “white-boy” in a sea of “brown” skin, for some strange reason perceived to be rich, Jewish or both, nicknamed after any celebrity I can possibly bear resemblance to, for allegedly roughing up my wife during a record breaking psychotic melt-down. In a world where the credentials hold more water than the person they represent, I'm a mentally-ill, drug addict, criminal who has a problem with women – who doesn't? Do you know how this looks? Seriously this is what I've been reduced to. These are the highlights of my "career”. In the eyes of society, I'm some kind of monster, a scumbag. I've somehow gotten myself lumped into the category which the mainstream media would call “marginalized”. Me, the kid in highschool with the long curly hair, who wore patchwork tie-dye jeans and Victorian blouses, looking like a white Jimmy Hendrix, or someone straight out of Prince music video, who just wanted to share the Love, pass the buds, and give everyone a hug. The kid who was dubbed “most likely to be famous” in his graduating class yearbook, who everyone knew just wanted to save the world, one smile at a time. And I still do, but my updated methodology is a bit more practical these days. Now, I have a stigma to live with, all of which completely overshadows and nullifies that at the age of 22 I incorporated and developed a thriving start-up, destined for success which was abruptly cut short by my untimely run in with the Law – a result of my unfortunate emotional instability which emerged from the fallout of a tumultuous and ultimately failed relationship with my now ex-wife, who I became married to and divorced from, all while behind bars. But that is another story for another time. We are, after all, just beginning to scratch the surface of this crazy rollercoaster which is my life. At this stage I don’t see the point of sugar coating any of It. No matter how bad any of it looks. I'm proud of who I am, the positive things I’ve accomplished (however overshadowed). I’m destined to achieve even greater success than that which I feel I have already tasted and I will never be ashamed of the nasty details. I love who I am and no matter how much this backwards system tries to victimize and marginalize me, I'm never going to let them snuff out this light. The End (For now)

[everydaysal-blog]

Starting Again

A story for Scottish Book Trust’s Rebel writing campaign. Read more responses here. 

My shoe broke on the way to the station which I tried not to take as a sign. Limping into a new life does dampen the intended grace somewhat. The right lace now trailed along demonstrating all too plainly how I couldn't hold my life together. I half expected a mocking over the tannoy. Thankfully, none came.

My travel companion was to be a York University student; tall, dark, unfazed by revision. As I sidled slightly flushed into my seat we exchanged small smiles and small words, while I tried to work out where best to store a poster tube for the next four hours. I concentrated on the wire of his headphones as the train pulled away and, true to form, I had a cry on public transport. ™ London. I've wondered since if his soundtrack was complimentary to the scene.

A forward facing window seat with a plug, naturally. A lifetime of British holidays has taught me that much. Facing forwards no doubt about it and yet stretching back. As a discontent child squirms in a pushchair my insides follow suit. As concrete diminishes and tree trunks multiply I divide myself between two places. It feels physical. Intestines unravel, one end still attached, the other in the hands of my dearest friends back on the platform, and I'm wondering at what point will I feel the tension? How much elastin is in this fleshy rope - will it stop the train or tear right out after ten, twenty, fifty miles? Am I invincible or dispensable?  

"A green tea please."

"That'll be £2, darlin'."

Contained change. A hot and emotional whirlwind with a lid on it. My heart beats along with my distraction playlist, an untitled medley to new beginnings. I raise my tea to hope, or is it to foolishness? Will I open up the forum to the carriage? I stay silent.

Whose idea was this because it doesn't feel like mine? It was a thousand hated breaths of a city that pushed me out. Invisible, polluted hands and mouths snidely daring change. Was I mistaken to tune into them? Because I really am alone now. No friends in a new country, unemployed, short hair, short fuse. Of course I've noticed the voices faulter, the split second eye refocus as they try to craft comment on what no one wants to label as outright ridiculous. Adventures are for fiction, for gap year uncertainty to be a bit of a joke of coming of age. They're for late night 'if I could do it all again' conversations brought on by wine or sunsets or New Year. Yet when I really listen I can hear my inner voice saying 'yes', I can feel the sparks of fire inside that fuel the assurance of this, on paper, outright mad desire: to start again.

I observe every blur of a sheep and whizz of a bird. If I'm attentive and lucky I might see a fox. Everything is stripped back to a worldly version of I Spy. I can only merely label 'sheep', 'house', 'river' because as I get further away from old I've no forged connection to be able to describe anything more fully. I feel very young. This is just the beginning of everything being new and it's already so hard. I'm dipping my toes into strength I haven't imagined.

From Kings Cross to 'what if?'. I can sense the paths of my life frantically rerooting themselves in this new direction. Those things that I have anticipated up ahead, that I've taken the liberty of running on and tending to, are overturned in the storm. They fly by with the Wicked Witch of the East.

Well wishes flash up on my phone from all sorts of people I didn't even know cared. Oddly though, I feel more connected to the people on this train, to Mr York University now highlighting passages of an indistinguishable textbook (right-handed), than to so many I am meant to love. Somehow emotions have gotten out of joint. Ashamed, I take the opportunity to bury myself in a novel. A thin, battered volume selected specifically for comfort. Part of my adventurers kit. What do you pack when you want to erase so much of the past?

Adrenaline diminishes over the hours and sensation returns. The ground is below, the air unpleasantly stale. We go through a tunnel and emerge into reality. I stop designing the experience and check my belongings. Two suitcases, a scarf, a tiny flame in the belly, a belief in change. I could swear the display screen wishes me well as I ease into the aisle. I hold hands with no one as I step onto the platform.

[redlemonz]

Day #26

Slept in for a bit today after marathoning that new Marvel show last night and finishing it. Certainly the only sort of marathon I could sadly participate in and accomplish. Nonetheless, it was a superb (ba-dum-tsh) show anyway, and especially really great when it came to enlightening me with some fictional false hope for my own life. I wasn't use to the fact that I was awake into such late hours of the night without her presence either, because it's the only usual time I would generally be. The loneliness burned stronger within me as a result.. I can't help but always feel so incomplete. I woke up to the sound of my phone vibrating, as my brother in law was ringing me to ask if I could come over to hang out with the nieces because they have some stuff to attend to, and he's still recovering from a recent surgical operation so is unable to actually be involved in many activities at all. Of course I was happy to drive over and spend time with the cute little ones, and well, I have nothing else to do anyway. I've already disbanded myself away from my friends after all, and haven't really heard from people. A part of me was still reluctant to go over though, because I didn't feel as stable during this late morning - it's one of those days where I miss her so damn much, more so than usual, that I couldn't help but withdraw a stream of tears which melded into the waters pouring out from the shower yet again. I keep thinking about how unfair and silly this all is, that we shouldn't even be apart when it comes down to the wire, that it's so easy to make this work now - but that's not my decision to make in the end. The damage has already been done in her eyes and is irreversible. Honestly speaking, I actually broke down quite a bit this morning, internally and externally, so I was a bit afraid as to the atmosphere my presence among my nieces would offer. But no - of course I'd temporarily shove all that into a separate corner of my head, even if my heart still bleeds, because I still gotta fulfil my duties to be the best uncle ever. Especially because I may not be able to fulfil my dream to be the best father I can some day. And so I did - I got riddled with hugs, cuddles and kisses from the younger ones which made it all pretty worthwhile. As nap time arose for the two little ones, I tweaked the definition of fun for the seven year old, as I spent nearly a couple hours teaching her some basic mathematics instead. Why in the hell would I voluntarily propose to even do that? Because I know she has the capability and interest to actually learn, and I'm not gonna waste it by poisoning her mind with Pokémon all the time (even though I've probably done it enough). She's smart, yet humble, and I want to help guide her from the sidelines into being the best her she can. So I'm not ashamed to admit that I actually enjoyed the feeling of teaching her the usefulness of decimals, fractions and percentages as they would apply in real life situations - especially when it comes down to knowing whether you're getting your fair share of cake and pizza. Day 26 - Holding my own hand Thunder. Another wonderful afternoon filled with the raging echoes of the skies, that soothe my soul and resonates a sense of balance within me. It's my only real friend that understands me during these troubling times, and it's ironically quite pleasant for it to come visiting two weekends in a row now, in the absence of my best friend being with me anymore. Reality knocked me down even harder than usual today actually, as on my way back home I had to take a detour and pick up some medicine from a specific pharmacy in a certain area. The familiarity of the streets and route sunk me, as on literally any other occasion I'm use to driving in this area, It would mean visiting her or picking her up. Knowing that her house was right there just brought back all the memories, which even though initially resulted in a smile, also felt somewhat tarnished by my current circumstances and ability to ruin that timeline from continuing. From the roads, the shops, and the best Thai takeaways to the nearby basin at which we'd walk bbt together, and the park in which she'd introduce me to my very first flying fox experience (yes, I didn't have the same sort of childhood experiences gosh) under the stars at night, it all started hitting me. I relived all the occasions in which I had spent and even unofficially lived several days at a time in that house with her, and it now just felt like shit knowing that it'll never be the same again. I've been cast out of that life of happiness I had, and her gate will permanently remain shut for me now. I miss it all so much, and I keep imploring to wake up from this damned nightmare that I've brought upon myself. I do have to admit (again) that I'm so fucking sick of myself, especially the constant whining and self-pitying that I know I don't deserve, but I can't help or control any of it. It's the most sane part of my insanity that keeps me going, and provides me with the visibility to eventually cross that bridge. I'm still waiting for the shock to wear off too, which is kind of even more troubling and frightening, considering it's now 26 days later. This all regularly just feels like one massive mistake or misunderstanding that shouldn't have ended the way it did, and I keep hating it and myself more and more each day, knowing that I led it to this very conclusion. In the spirit of punishing myself further, I've decided to rewatch one of my favourite analytical films, Ruby Sparks, which I know I've mentioned before. It's satisfying within this thunderous weather to receive another encore in this on-going barrage of internal pain, as I can gain a decent glimpse of understanding and reflection upon the sort of evil that I am. The unrealistic happy ending of this damned movie where he is blessed with another, undeserving chance after all his fuck ups will truly hurt me even more - and I want it to, which is why I march into this world with full knowledge of the suffering I'll be deservingly dishing out to myself, because I despise me. Moments after hating myself through rewatching that movie (probably isn't worth the details any longer), I walked outside in an attempt to view the stars, though it was a bit of a cloudier night. I thought about all the moments in which we'd laid upon the beaches and parks as we would gaze at the beautiful wonders which were beyond our reach. I remember affirming with myself during each of those heavenly moments that I was the luckiest man alive, as I was graced with the most beautiful star of them all, right there next to me, shimmering as bright as ever. So as I shivered and was on the verge of creating another hypothermic memory in my present day, I looked out into that night sky to relive and feel some sort of connection with her. Don't ask me what that necessarily means if it's weird or confusing - I can do some of the strangest and most random shit sometimes, and attempt to accordingly justify that it's got some sort of additional meaning, even if it's just a plain greyish sky right now. If anything, the sky tonight is just reminiscent of myself with its basic, undecorated and boring display on hand. It's simply ugly, has nothing to offer the world, and is certainly not worth waiting around to see it ever change for, even if it constantly attempt to shine. The light beyond it is so ravenous to take centre stage, but is ultimately shielded by the overwhelming dominance of the dark grey clouds. I wish that my soul could merge with this darkness of this night, and be purged from this sinister torment that corrupts it. The broken remains continue to annihilate me, and the fragments continue to sharply stab away at my mind and heart. I've already reached the point where I've whole heartedly (ha) invited in the emptiness, because I don't care anymore. Though even stIll, I channeled the inspirational light which she's granted me that remains, and managed to cumulate a little bit of faith from behind the darkest clouds of my soul. Even though I'm not sure what that word means any longer, as I'm of the living, breathing hypocrites who denounces it through his general actions and mistrust in others on a daily basis. In my desperation my hands joined together for the first time since I can ever recall, and with my eyes shut, I selfishly begged to be forgiven for all my sins - past, present and for the 'mistakes' yet to happen. I begged for another chance at redemption, so that I can emerge as the person I wish to be - for her, for others, and for myself, and sealed my amen with a single teardrop which landed against the rough ground on which I knelt. I can't bear to admit that this was an act of prayer, because it wasn't. I have no right to utilise that word in this or any regard, when all I've ever done is uncharitably taken and never given thanks in return. I'm not worth listening to, or worth taking another chance on, or worth anything whatsoever anymore. I've already betrayed my faith in God, just as I betrayed my faith in her.

[heliosfinance]

One Idea That Could Change Your Life (and How You Invest)

“Good morning, Sir,” I called out to a man walking just ahead of me during my morning walk yesterday. Like me, he was a regular at the walking track and we often crossed each other exchanging smiles and wishes. I had heard good things about him from others, and so I thought of engaging him in an interaction.

“How are you doing today?” I asked him.

“Great, as always!” he replied with a smile of a ten-year old. He, by the way, looked ninety years of age but healthy enough to be walking at quick pace.

“I have been observing you for the past many days,” I said, “And you always wear a nice smile on your face and look so healthy. It seems you are living a great life.”

“Yeah, it’s always been wonderful,” he replied, “No regrets at all.”

“That’s wonderful!” I said, “But you’ve been lucky,” I murmured, which he could hear, “Else life is so full of adversities and regrets.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” he replied. “It’s adversity all the way, but that’s what life is supposed to be, isn’t it?”

“Maybe, but then that’s not a life you seem to have lived, right?” I asked. “I can see that you are happy and healthy at ninety years of age, and I know that you are financially free. In other words, you seem to have everything that is missing for most of us going through mid-life.”

“Well, you may be right here, but I have had my own share of adversities. But that’s not the point here. The point is how do you cope up with such situations and not allow them to weigh you down.”

“That’s easier said than done, Sir,” I replied.

“I understand that, but here I am reminded of what I read in this brilliant book from Viktor Frankl…”

“You mean Man’s Search for Meaning?” I interrupted.

“Yes, the same book, where Frankl chronicles his experiences at a Nazi concentration camp during World War II. So, Frankl wrote something like when we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.”

“Again, easier said than done,” I replied. “Frankl wasn’t living in today’s world where situations change so frequently. How do you change yourself in such quickly changing times?”

“It’s all about the attitude, son,” he replied. “The world may not be changing so fast for Frankl, but he survived a near-death situation at the camp. And what helped him, as he wrote in his memoir, was the constant belief that everything can be taken from a man but one thing, and that is the choice of one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”

“That’s a nice thought, Sir,” I said, “But again easier said than done.”

“Who said life is easy?” he replied. “But the only thing in your hand, as you go through difficult times, is to recognize that you cannot control, influence, or affect in any way the adversity you may be going through…but you still have the power to choose your attitude in such times. You may engage in self-pity or feel victimized, but that’s not going to turn the adversity on its head. In fact, you will become even more miserable. But the only way you can come out of such situations and remain sane and happy is by having the attitude that however bad it is in anyway, it’s always your fault and you just fix it as best you can.”

“That’s an eye-opener of a thought,” I replied. “I can so well relate it to how I invest my money in the stock market.”

“So, you are an investor?” he asked.

“Yes, and I also teach people how to do it sensibly.”

“That’s wonderful! Teaching is such a beautiful profession.”

“True, I have come to realize that,” I said. “And what you just talked about in terms of not regretting the past but choosing how we must deal in the present is actually one big emotion tussle most of us investors deal with often.”

“How?” he asked. “Can you explain please?”

“Yeah, so we will often not sell our bad stocks because we cannot bear the pain of regret associated with a bad decision we may have made. And we will often sell our good stocks too soon, again because we cannot bear the regret of a possible loss of money we have already earned from that stock.”

“It seems investing is just an extension of how we live our lives,” he said. “Isn’t it?”

“You are right,” I replied. “It’s all connected. And it doesn’t end there. Because we as investors often want to avoid regrets. So instead of knowing how to choose well, most of us commit this huge sin called envy. Just to avoid the future regret of not becoming richer fast like others around us, we start making thoughtless decisions. We start copying others without much thought, because we are more driven by what others are doing than by what is right for us.”

“Oh envy!” he exclaimed, “It’s so dreadful! I have seen so many men and women around me fall for this sucker of a sin. But I am sure what differentiates good investors from others is their ability to not let envy drive their decision making, and also rebound quickly from failures and disappointments, without much grief. After all, what’s important in life is not what happens to you but how you react to what happens to you.”

“You are right,” I said. “But isn’t grieving over bad situations a basic human nature, whether it’s life or stock market investing?”

“Of course, our brains are wired that way,” he said. “And so, when life knocks you over, and it often does so, you may allow yourself a modest amount of grieving. But then, you must gather yourself, get up, dust yourself off your regrets, align yourself with reality, put yourself back in the saddle of the horse called life, and get going with it.”

“I must frame what you just spoke,” I said. “These are words worth their weight in gold!”

“Oh, I am just speaking from experience I’ve had in my long life.”

“A happy, beautiful life all through the way, right?”

“Well, almost…except that I was divorced and broke by the time I was 31 years of age, and had also seen my nine-year old son die of leukemia. And then later, I faced a horrific operation that left me blind in one eye.”

“Oh God! I am sorry I never knew that!”

“You shouldn’t be sorry for it. I myself have not spent much time regretting my past, once I have taken lesson from it. I don’t have any feeling of terrible regret.”

I was still numbed by the revelation this gentleman had made, and so he continued.

“You see, life is a whole series of opportunity costs. You lose other alternatives when you choose one alternative. So, you must choose the best alternative, and regretting what has happened in the past or what may happen in the future isn’t the choice worth making.

“Life will have terrible blows in it … horrible blows, unfair blows. And some people recover and others don’t. And there I think the attitude of Epictetus is the best. He said that every missed chance in life was an opportunity to behave well, every missed chance in life was an opportunity to learn something, and that your duty was not to be submerged in self-pity, but to utilize the terrible blow in constructive fashion. That is a very good idea.”

“That’s indeed a very good idea,” I said as I hugged this gentleman for the guide to happy life he provided me on a beautiful Monday morning.

I felt the earth move under my feet. “Is this an earthquake?” I asked him.

But before he could reply, I heard my wife’s voice, “Get up Vishal. I understand that you got very tired after your workshop yesterday, but it’s already 10 o’clock, and we need to go to the market to buy groceries.

“Oh, I just saw a beautiful dream, where I met an elderly gentleman who gave me a mantra to living happily.”

“But wait!” I exclaimed. “I think the guy I met in my dream resembled someone I have known for many years. Who could be that?”

“Oh, knowing the kind of dreams you see, it must be Warren Buffett,” she replied, “Or Charlie Munger.”

“Charlie … yes, yes … he was Charlie Munger!” I exclaimed with a smile on my face, as I got off my bed feeling no tiredness despite the previous full-day of standing and talking with my bad throat and a very bad back.

It was a beautiful dream after all, with the potential to completely change how I looked at life, adversities, regrets, and investing.

P.S. While my dream was fictional, what that elderly gentlemen, I mean Charlie Munger, talked about his life and experiences is reality. As you can read in his biography, Damn Right: Behind the Scenes with Berkshire Hathaway Billionaire Charlie Munger, Charlie was indeed broke and divorced by 31 years of age, was living in dreadful conditions, and then learned that his son, Teddy, had leukemia. Rick Guerin, Charlie’s friend, said Munger would go into the hospital, hold his young son, and then walk the streets of Pasadena crying. One year after the diagnosis, in 1955, Teddy Munger died. And if that was not all, later in life, Charlie faced a horrific operation that left him blind in one eye.

But most of us don’t know about this aspect of Charlie’s life, because all we know is that he is a sharp thinking, witty, happy billionaire…one of the world’s smartest and richest.

Also Read/Watch:

Damn Right!: Behind the Scenes with Berkshire Hathaway Billionaire Charlie Munger ~ Janet Lowe

Man’s Search for Meaning ~ Victor Frankl

How Does Charlie Munger Recommend Dealing with Adversity?

If Charlie Munger Didn’t Quit When He Was Divorced, Broke, and Burying His 9 Year Old Son, You Have No Excuse

Munger’s USC Law School Commencement Speech

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THE SCIENCE OF HAPPINESS: WHY COMPLAINING IS LITERALLY KILLING YOU

Sometimes in life, all the experience and knowledge simmering around in that ol’ consciousness of ours combines itself in a way that suddenly causes the cerebral clockwork to click into place, and in this fluid flow of thought we find an epiphany rising to the surface.

One such point for me came in my junior year at University. It changed the way I viewed the world forever as it catapulted me out of the last of my angsty, melancholic youth and onto a path of ever-increasing bliss.

At the time of this personal discovery, I was pursuing a double-major in Computer Science and Psychology. Aside from these declared interest, I also had an affinity for (Eastern) Philosophy and Neuroscience. This led to semester course load comprising of two 300-level psychology courses, one 300-level philosophy course, and a graduate-level artificial intelligence course for both biology and computer science majors. This amalgamation of studies quickly tore my brain into a dozen directions, and when I put the pieces back together, I found myself resolute with rational reasons for optimism and for removing from my life the people who liked to complain.

“SYNAPSES THAT FIRE TOGETHER WIRE TOGETHER.”

This was the first phrase my AI professor told the classroom, and to this day it is still one of the most profound bits of logic I hold onto in order to dictate the decisions of my life. The principle is simple: Throughout your brain there is a collection of synapses separated by empty space called the synaptic cleft. Whenever you have a thought, one synapse shoots a chemical across the cleft to another synapse, thus building a bridge over which an electric signal can cross, carrying along its charge the relevant information you’re thinking about. It’s very similar to how nerves carry electric from the sensation in your toe all the way up to your brain where it’s actually “felt”.

Here’s the kicker: Every time this electrical charge is triggered, the synapses grow closer together in order to decrease the distance the electrical charge has to cross. This is a microcosmic example of evolution, of adaptation. The brain is rewiring its own circuitry, physically changing itself, to make it easier and more likely that the proper synapses will share the chemical link and thus spark together–in essence, making it easier for the thought to trigger. Therefore, your first mystical scientific evidence: your thoughts reshape your brain, and thus are changing a physical construct of reality. Let that sink in for a moment before you continue, because that’s a seriously profound logic-bomb right there.

SHORTEST PATH WINS THE RACE.

Beyond the absolutely incredible fact that your brain is always doing this, consistently shifting and morphing with every thought, even more exciting is the fact that the synapses you’ve most strongly bonded together (by thinking about more frequently) come to represent your default personality: your intelligence, skills, aptitudes, and most easily accessible thoughts(which are more-or-less the source of your conversation skills).

Let’s dig deeper into the logic behind that. Consider you have two pairs of people throwing a ball back and forth. One pair stands ten feet apart, the other at a distance of 100 feet. One partner from each team throws their ball to their respective partners at the exact same moment with the exact same speed. The first team that catches the ball gets to dictate your personal decision and mental state of mind.

So which team will get the ball first? Basic physics of distance, time, velocity tell us that it will always be the pair standing 10 feet apart. Well this is basically how your thoughts work. Through repetition of thought, you’ve brought the pair of synapses that represent your proclivities closer and closer together, and when the moment arises for you to form a thought ( and thus throw our metaphorical ball of electric energy), the thought that wins is the one that has less distance to travel, the one that will create a bridge between synapses fastest.

MIRROR-NEURONS

So if your mind hadn’t already exploded when you learned you could alter reality with your thoughts, you may want to get ready for it.  Because guess what? It’s not just your thoughts that can alter your brain and shift those synapses; the thoughts of those around you can do it as well.

If there’s any ability that truly separates us from our primate ancestors, it’s that of imagination. It’s the root of all art and architecture, of the (fictional) stories that formed religions that now control the lives of billions—even to the point of war over which fairytale is the “right one.”

That human failing aside, imagination lets us live in the past and in the future, and by escaping the present moment we can use our memories of the past to predict what will happen in the future; ie: I know from past experience that fire burns skin, so I know inside my minds-eye that if I stick my hand into a fire I will lose my flesh. This is so instinctual we don’t even recognize it’s constantly happening with every symbol that we’re perceiving in our day-to-day moments. But it is this ability that allows us to navigate the complexity of our society. Even more exciting is the fact that this skill also works with emotions, not just situations.

The premise, again, is quite simple: When we see someone experiencing an emotion ( be it anger, sadness, happiness, etc), our brain “tries out” that same emotion to imagine what the other person is going through. And it does this by attempting to fire the same synapses in your own brain so that you can attempt to relate to the emotion you’re observing. This is basically empathy. It is how we get the mob mentality, where a calm person can suddenly find themselves picking up a pitchfork against a common enemy once they’re influenced by dozens of angry minds. It is our shared bliss at music festivals, or our solidarity in sadness during tragedies.

But it is also your night out with your friends who love to constantly complain, whether it’s about their job, the government, or about their other so-called friend’s short-comings, or whatever little thing they can pick apart in order to lift themselves up and give themselves some holier-than-thou sense of validation when you nod your head in acquiescence, agreeing like a robot afraid of free-thought.

As you continually surround yourself with this attitude, you are continually trying out this attitude by firing the synapses in your brain. And as I explained above, every time you fire these synapses, you’re reshaping your brain.This is why it is so important to spend time with people who lift you up, because your friends are moving those fearful, cynical, pessimistic synapses closer together, making your default, short-path-personality as jaded and bitter as your peers.Want to be happy? Surround yourself with happy people who rewire your brain towards love, not towards fear of being invalidated.  I’m NOT saying don’t be there for friends who are having a hard time and need an ear or who need to work through a difficult situation. Nor am I saying you can’t be critical about the failings and injustices in the world. Positive change usually requires critical thought.

STRESS WILL KILL YOU.

You see, the thing about all this negativity, of regretting, of attachment to desires, of pointless complaining about impermanent things that will always continue to pass in an existence where time moves forward—the thing is: it all causes stress. When your brain is firing off these synapses of anger, you’re weakening your immune system; you’re raising your blood pressure, increasing your risk of heart disease, obesity and diabetes, and a plethora of other negative ailments–as PsychologyToday points out below.

The stress hormone, cortisol, is public health enemy number one. Scientists have known for years that elevated cortisol levels: interfere with learning and memory, lower immune function and bone density, increase weight gain, blood pressure, cholesterol, heart disease… The list goes on and on.Chronic stress and elevated cortisol levels also increase risk for depression, mental illness, and lower life expectancy. Recently, two separate studies were published in Science linking elevated cortisol levels as a potential trigger for mental illness and decreased resilience—especially in adolescence. Cortisol is released in response to fear or stress by the adrenal glands as part of the fight-or-flight mechanism.

-PsychologyToday

And if you need more evidence for the damaging effects of stress, there are innumerable more studies that show the negative impacts of pessimism, bitterness, and regret on your health. Here’s one from the Mayo Clinic and another from APA.

Regardless of what the universe brings your way, your choice is simple: Love or Fear. And yes, I understand it’s hard to find happiness on those nights when you feel like you’re all alone in the world, when a loved one passes, when you fail that test or get fired from that job; But when these moments come, you do not have to live in regret of them, you don’t have to give them constant negative attention and allow them to reshape your brain to the point that you become a bitter, jaded, cynical old curmudgeon that no longer notices that the very fact that they’re alive means they get to play blissfully in this cosmic playground where you get the godlike power of choice.

What you can do is say; “Yes, this sucks. But what’s the lesson? What can I take away from this to make me a better person? How can I take strength from this and use it to bring me closer to happiness in my next moment?” You see, a failed relationship or a bad day doesn’t have to be a pinion to your wings, it can be an updraft that showcases to you what things you like and don’t like, it can show you the red flags so that you can avoid them. If there was a personality your ex-partner had that drove you insane, then you now have the gift of knowing you don’t want to waste your time with another partner who acts the same way.

If you are mindful to the lessons of the failures, there is no reason that you can’t make the default of every day better than the one before it. Do something new everyday, learn its lesson, choose love over fear, and make every day better than the last. The more you do this, the more you will see and appreciate the beauty of this existence, and the happier you’ll be.

This article has been republished from Curious Apes

About the Author

Born and raised in Cincinnati, OH, Steven Parton moved to Portland, OR after getting a degree in Computer Science. As well as programming software, apps, and websites, he is an avid writer of novels and short stories, which can be found through Curious Apes Publishing. Like most Portlanders, he also rides a bike and loves IPAs. His latest book can be found at Amazon