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emospritelet · 3 years

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Manifesto - chapter 10

It's been 84 years...

Last time, Sutherland convinced Belle to join in with a Government consultation. Cue snark and UST

[AO3]

Belle stared at Sutherland, her pulse thumping at the base of her throat as she met his eyes. He had that tiny smile on his face, his eyes glinting, and she licked her lips nervously.

“I - I didn’t think you’d be here,” she said lamely, and he pushed upright.

“Well, it is my house,” he said. “After a fashion.”

“No, I didn’t mean…” She closed her eyes, swallowed, and opened them again. “I just meant I didn’t think you’d concern yourself with a consultation, that’s all. I - I thought it might be one of your Ministers.”

“Ordinarily I wouldn’t,” he agreed, reaching for the coffee. “But we’ve decided to give this policy more priority, and given that it’s a cross-government initiative, I thought I’d show face.”

“Right,” she said weakly. “Great.”

“Oh, I won’t be here for the whole thing,” he added. “I suspect I’ll leave after lunch. Coffee?”

“Thank you.”

Belle looked around the table, spying pieces of folded card printed with names marking each place. She read over the names, trying to find her own.

“You’re here,” said Sutherland, placing both hands on the back of one of the chairs and pulling it out. “Please. Take a seat.”

For a moment she was frozen in place, but then she lifted her chin, stalking around the table and sitting down. He pushed her chair in, and she murmured her thanks, squeezing her thighs together as he reached over her shoulder and grasped a cup and saucer between thumb and forefinger, slowly pulling it over until it was in front of her. Belle watched the movement of his hand: long, tanned fingers above a perfectly white shirt cuff, and wanted to sigh. Nope. Still fancy him. Dammit!

“I trust your journey here wasn’t too tiring,” he said, crossing to the chair opposite the door and taking a seat.

“It was fine,” she said automatically.

“And the accommodation?” he went on. “I’m sure Anna arranged something suitable.”

“Yes, it’s - uh - lovely.”

He nodded, reaching for his own coffee, and Belle glanced down at the table. There was a folder of documents in front of her, a close-up picture of a smiling multiracial group of people with their arms around each other in front of a gleaming modern building of steel and glass. Shaping a Stronger Society was written in yellow font on a dark blue background. Belle opened the folder to reveal a sheaf of documents, the day’s agenda lying uppermost.

“I’m afraid it’s going to be a long day,” said Sutherland, making her jump. “We’ll do our best to keep you lubricated. There’s plenty more coffee, if you need it.”

Belle automatically took a sip of her own coffee, and was spared the ordeal of making conversation by the door opening to reveal Anna. She was followed by several men and women in suits, and there was a buzz of conversation as introductions were made and seating places indicated. Belle smiled at the man who was directed to sit next to her. He looked a little out of place in his tweed jacket with elbow patches, glasses perched on his nose and red hair curling back from a high forehead. Belle read his nameplate.

“Dr Archibald Hopper,” she said. “Are you an academic?”

“Oh, Archie, please,” he said, with a warm smile. “And yes, I was a practising psychiatrist for many years. More recently I’ve been teaching at Cambridge, so that and research take up most of my time.”

Belle sat up excitedly.

“Oh! I studied at Cambridge,” she said happily. “So of course I have to say there’s no finer university for you to be teaching at.”

“Well, I certainly won’t argue with that,” he said with a smile. “And everyone knows who you are. A modern day freedom fighter for literacy, which is an excellent cause. Miss French, I believe.”

“Belle’s fine,” said Belle, with a grin. “What’s your interest in this?”

“I’ve been studying the psychological impact of poverty and deprivation and its links to poor health and other life chances,” he said earnestly. “I think your interests and mine probably overlap.”

“I should think they probably do,” said Belle. “Although I imagine your credentials are somewhat more impressive than mine.”

“On the contrary,” said Archie. “You have experience in the field, as it were. I’d certainly be interested in hearing your perspective on the literacy programmes you’ve introduced.”

“You heard about that?” she asked, surprised, and he smiled.

“There were a number of pieces in the press after your - ah - meeting with the Prime Minister,” he said. “I understand you’ve created a useful community resource built around literacy for all ages.”

Belle opened her mouth to explain what she was doing, but was cut off by Sutherland clearing his throat.

“Right, well, good morning everyone,” he said, leaning on the table and glancing around at the occupants. “We have a full schedule, and I’m sure you all want to make the most of it, so I won’t be doing the creeping death of introductions around the table, as you’re no doubt relieved to hear. We can save the obligatory networking for the tea breaks.”

There was an appreciative chuckle from the attendees.

“You all have a pack of documents in front of you,” he went on. “This contains information on everyone here, including interests and expertise. I’m pleased to see such a range of talent around this table, and I’m excited to see what we can achieve together. I know you all take the development of this policy as seriously as I do.”

Belle found herself nodding along with the others. Sutherland certainly knew how to command attention.

“The documents also set out some of the initial research provided by the government departments leading on this policy,” he said. “Of course you all have your own experience, and no doubt your own sources to bring to the table. I fully expect this to be a challenging session with a lot of strong opinions being aired, but I’m confident that we can avoid too much bloodshed.”

There was a ripple of laughter, but Sutherland’s eyes lingered on Belle a little longer than the others. She met his gaze steadily, hoping she wouldn’t blush.

“You might well be wondering why I’m here,” he added, looking around. “The Shaping a Stronger Society policy will fulfil several key campaign pledges and lay the groundwork for lasting change. I thought it right that I give it the high profile it deserves, particularly when it cuts across so many Government departments. We need to be presenting a united front on this.”

“I’m sure the fact that it’s election year is a happy coincidence,” remarked a woman with a white-blonde bob over dark roots. Belle read her nameplate: Ella Deville-Waters. Sutherland grinned.

“Well, you know what they say, Ella,” he said. “Politics is eighty percent timing, ten percent luck—”

“And ten percent knowing how to lie with a straight face,” drawled Ella, making everyone chuckle.

“Thought that was at least sixty percent,” muttered Belle, and Archie laughed and managed to turn it into a cough.

“Let’s get started,” said Sutherland, glancing at Belle again. “I know there are a few of you with presentations to give on your own areas of interest, and I’m assured the technology is working, so I’ll hand things over to each of you. Anna, could you help Miss French set up the first presentation?”

Belle blinked rapidly.

“Me?” she said weakly, and Sutherland smiled.

“Gets it out of the way, hmm?”

She supposed it would.

Standing up in front of a sea of expectant faces turned towards her, Belle momentarily wanted to run from the room. Once she started speaking and concentrated on her passion for the subject, however, she forgot that she was presenting to a bunch of politicians and academics in Downing Street. The fifteen minutes she had been allotted went by more quickly than she thought possible, and prompted a number of questions that she was able to answer easily. She sat down with a thump next to Archie afterwards, feeling an odd mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration, and he sent her a reassuring smile before turning his attention to the next speaker, Ella Deville-Waters. It turned out that she was Undersecretary for Education, and she spoke eloquently about the importance of early years learning.

There were other presentations, each followed by an opportunity for questions, the final talk being given by Archie. Belle scribbled notes as he spoke, and made a note of the papers he referenced; they sounded like something she would be interested in reading at a later date. When the questions were finished, Sutherland announced that they would break for coffee, and Belle felt herself sigh in relief. She was surprised to see that it was eleven-thirty already; the morning was almost over.

The rest of the day went reasonably well and the group generated some robust discussion; despite Sutherland having said he would be leaving after lunch, he showed no sign of doing so, and took the lead in steering the conversation. There was general agreement on the merits of expanding opportunities for all, and the desired outcome of the policy. Disagreements arose when it came to discussing how to get there. There was a frank exchange of views between Belle, Ella, and the brusque Sir George King, who worked for the Treasury. He seemed to take any suggestion that money would have to be spent as a personal affront. Anna had to step in and smooth things over more than once, and Belle could feel her patience draining away as the day drew towards evening. The draft call for evidence that was produced was the last straw.

“This doesn’t go nearly far enough,” she said bluntly, lifting the paper and dropping it on the table. “The questions skirt around the real issues, and there’s no meat on the bones of this thing. Whatever responses you get won’t address what we’ve been talking about all day. It’s papering over the cracks at best.”

“This is merely a scoping document,” said Sutherland mildly. “And a first draft at that. You can’t expect the policy to be fully-formed at this stage.”

“No, but if this is the direction we’re being nudged in, the whole thing is pointless,” she said. “How can you expect us to even start to make a difference if you refuse to fund it properly?”

Sutherland took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“We’ve been over this, Miss French,” he said, sounding weary. “Budget constraints—”

“Yes we have been over this, and as I’ve said, budget constraints only ever seem to apply to policies that benefit the many over the few,” she said tartly. “Your Government may have managed to sweep the whole Pennine Consortium debacle under the rug a couple of years ago, but I remember the reports about the amount of public money that was being poured into that project, and it turned out to be going into the back pockets of the Home Secretary’s relatives!”

“Paying out according to contractual agreements is normal practice in business, I believe,” he said, in a bored voice. “The matter was investigated and the Home Secretary was cleared of all wrongdoing, as I’m sure you’re aware. ”

“My point is that billions were paid out for defence contracts with no questions being raised about whether they were affordable.”

“Clearly you didn’t watch the Select Committee hearings,” he remarked. His voice was a flat drawl that was doing nothing to stop her rising irritation.

“They were held after the money had been spent, not before, that’s my point!”

“And of course the purchase of tanks is entirely analogous to the development of literacy programmes.”

“I’d argue that the purchase of tanks is of decidedly lower value, actually,” she said.

“Then it’s a good thing you don’t have to make these decisions, isn’t it?”

Anna cleared her throat.

“Perhaps we can get back to the matter at hand?” she suggested. “Ella, what were you saying about school opening hours?”

“Oh, we can talk about that later,” said Ella cheerfully, waving a hand. “I’d much rather listen to this argument.”

“No one’s arguing,” said Sutherland coolly. “Miss French has a passionate nature, it seems.”

“Thanks, that’s not at all patronising,” said Belle, in a dry tone.

“Passion for public service is to be commended,” he said, matching her tone. “I thought I was giving you a compliment.”

“No you didn’t.”

Sutherland fixed her with a dark-eyed stare, his mouth flat. It was strangely arousing, and she could feel her breathing quicken. She told herself it was irritation.

“Your input here is valued, Miss French,” he said, his jaw a little clenched. “But I’d be grateful if you would allow us to guide you through this process, given that you know nothing about the way Government works.”

“No, I don’t,” she agreed, losing the last of her patience. “I don’t know about policy-making and contract negotiation and tendering and public procurement. And likewise I’d say you and most of the people that work for you don’t know what it’s like to worry about where the next meal is coming from.”

“Which is why we’re seeking the input of a wide range of stakeholders such as yourself.” He was trying for a smooth tone, but his eyes were flashing, and she could sense he was getting as annoyed as she.

“If you’re not prepared to listen to us, then it’s all empty gestures, isn’t it?” she protested.

“Wanting your input and allowing you to set the parameters of this thing are two entirely different things,” he said coldly. “I’m sorry if your expectations are out of step with reality.”

“There’s a lot of that going around.”

“Right!” said Anna briskly, slapping the table and making everyone jump. “That seems like a good place to break until tomorrow. It’s been a long day and I’m sure everyone could do with some fresh air.”

“Could do with a stiff drink, I don’t know about the rest of you,” said Ella, and there were appreciative murmurs from the others.

Belle sat back in her seat, listening with half an ear as chairs scraped back and papers were gathered up. Sutherland had already gone, stalking out of the room, and the others were throwing curious glances at her as they pulled on coats and drained cups.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Belle,” said Archie, tucking his folder of papers into a battered brown leather bag. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re right about the scope being too narrow.”

She gave him a grateful look, and a smile, and he ducked his head a little and sauntered out. Belle sighed, toying with the cold cup of tea in front of her as the others began to file out. She felt drained, wrung out. Was this what it was like every day for politicians? She wondered how they coped. Maybe it was why so many seemed to go grey so quickly.

“You settling in for the night?”

Anna’s voice made her look up, and Belle realised they were alone.

“Sorry, I was miles away,” she said. “I feel as though my brain’s been scrambled and stuffed back in my head all wrong.”

“Welcome to Whitehall,” said Anna, in a deadpan tone, and Belle giggled.

“Sorry for letting my temper get the better of me at the end,” she said. “I’m not cut out for politics, it seems.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Anna. “You have the ability to see to the heart of things. He wasn’t joking when he said your input is valued, you know.”

Belle sighed, running her hands over her face.

“It just - it feels like I’m wasting my time here,” she said. “I know I don’t have much longer before the library has to close, and - and yet I’m down here in London, in what seems like a hopeless uphill battle! Maybe I should just go back to Avonleigh and try to do what little good I can.”

“You may have longer than you think,” said Anna, gathering up some papers. “The Prime Minister approved a scheme for local authorities a few days ago. It offers grants to support providers of breakfast clubs and after-school learning.”

Belle sat up.

“Like the library?” she asked, and Anna shrugged.

“Seems likely, doesn’t it?” she said. “Oh, we’ve made sure that local authorities have to use it for the intended purpose, by the way. The scheme is due to launch next week. I’d keep my eyes peeled to the website, if I were you.”

She put the papers in a leather satchel and took out another folder before slinging the satchel over one shoulder. Belle was smiling, her heart swelling with what felt like hope for the first time in months.

“A reprieve for the library?” she said. “And it was his idea?”

“Like I said.” Anna hitched the satchel on her shoulder. “He does listen. You might not think so, but he does.”

“Listening’s all very well,” said Belle. “It’s the choices that are made that are the issue.”

“There isn’t always a choice,” said Anna firmly. “Or at least, not one a Prime Minister can make.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Difficult decisions have to be made,” she added. “Sometimes hundreds each day. Everything’s urgent, everything has an impact, and he tries his best to make the right call based on the information given by people he trusts. He doesn’t always get it right. No one could.”

“Maybe not, but—”

“He has to balance fifty competing interests with almost every decision he makes,” she went on. “The papers turn on a dime and whoever’s lauded one week gets pilloried the next. Everyone around him is looking to him to lead and half of them are willing him to fail so that they can step into the spotlight. I won’t let that happen if I can help it.”

She picked up the folder of papers, turning on her heel.

“I’ll show you out,” she said over her shoulder. “I expect you’ll want an early night after today. Or a large drink. Or both.”

“You care about him,” said Belle, and Anna stopped dead before slowly turning back to face her.

“Yes,” she said simply. “He’s a good friend. And whether or not you believe it, Miss French, he’s a good man.”

Belle was silent for a moment.

“I haven’t made up my mind on that score,” she said eventually.

“Oh, I didn’t say he wasn’t a stubborn bloody pain in the arse at times,” added Anna. “He’s definitely that.”

Belle couldn’t help giggling.

“Well, bearing all that in mind, and in the interests of cooperation,” she said. “I suppose I really ought to apologise for snapping at him.”

Something in Anna seemed to relax at her words, and she smiled again.

“He’s used to being snapped at,” she said dismissively. “He gets far worse in the Commons, let’s face it. But an apology would probably make him more inclined to listen to you, so I certainly won’t stand in your way.”

Belle nodded agreement, and Anna jerked her head towards the door.

“I was going to take these reports to him before I head off,” she said, holding up the folder. “If you felt like going there now, I’d be happy to tell him you want to have a word.”

Belle hesitated, but nodded, and Anna smiled briefly and headed for the door. The interior of Downing Street was busier than Belle had expected at that time in the evening, aides hurrying with laptops and drinks and phones clasped to their ears. Anna led her down a wide, thickly-carpeted corridor and paused outside a heavy office door, where two Special Branch officers nodded to Anna and eyed Belle suspiciously before stepping aside. Anna rapped smartly on the door, and Belle heard a muffled bid to enter from behind it. She could feel her heart thumping in trepidation, and when the door opened she could see a room with a high ceiling, dark green carpet and a dresser in dark, polished wood where several cut crystal decanters sat, their contents gleaming in shades of amber and ruby. There were two leather armchairs and a couch around a coffee table in the same dark wood. Bookshelves stretched around two walls of the room, and Sutherland was sitting behind a heavy desk opposite the door, scribbling something. His eyes narrowed as they met Belle’s, but Anna walked forward, cutting off his view.

“Brought you those updates on the infrastructure options,” she said breezily, holding up the files. “If you want to go through them later let me know. I thought I’d go and get something to eat.”

“So I know why you’re in my office,” he said evenly, sitting back and putting down his pen. “Not too clear on the presence of Miss French. Unless she thought of something else she wanted to call me.”

“Actually I’m here to apologise,” said Belle, making his brows lift in surprise. “So I’m not about to insult you unless you start something.”

Sutherland’s mouth worked, as though he was trying not to laugh.

“Uh - thank you, Anna,” he said, glancing away. “Yes, go and get some dinner. I think Miss French and I can have a conversation without it coming to blows.”

“Good,” said Anna. “Behave.”

Belle was unsure who that last comment was directed at, but Anna left the room before she could ask, shutting the door behind her with a click. She turned slowly on her toes to face Sutherland, who was leaning back in his chair and tapping his papers with a pen, staring at her.

“Anna told me about the local authority grants for educational services,” she said. “That should help a lot more libraries stay open.”

“That’s the idea,” he said, with a shrug.

“Providing librarians know it’s available, of course,” she added.

“There’ll be an announcement when it’s launched,” he said. “Of course there’s nothing to stop you contacting your peers and explaining the process.”

“I guess not.” She fiddled with a button on her jacket before smoothing her hand against her skirt. “What made you change the policy on local grants?”

“I didn’t,” he said abruptly. “Just provided - clarification around eligibility.”

Belle took a step forward, until she was almost touching the desk.

“Well, that clarification should mean I won’t be closing the library doors this year,” she said. “Lucky for me, hmm?”

“Surprising as it may seem,” he remarked. “I do actually take into account the views of interested parties when making decisions. Where I can.”

“Hmm.” Belle leaned on the desk, pursing her lips. “Well, I’m sorry for yelling at you. I don’t like losing my temper and I try not to if I can help it.”

There was a tiny, amused grin on his face.

“A pity,” he said. “It was rather refreshing.”

“Yeah, well it wasn’t all that satisfying from my perspective,” she said. “Dealing with politicians is making me more cynical than I’d like to be.”

He gave her a twisted little smile.

“Well, that’s no bad thing,” he said. “The moment you start wanting to be cynical it’s probably time to run screaming for the hills.”

“At nine this morning I almost did run screaming,” she admitted, and he chuckled.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” he said. “I enjoyed your presentation. It was delivered with your usual passion, and I think you may have brought some of the others on board.”

“I think Sir George King would rather I’d stayed at home,” she said, and Sutherland shrugged.

“If it was up to him we wouldn’t spend any money at all,” he said. “On the whole, today went rather well, I thought. No physical blows were exchanged, and there was almost no profanity. One of the more sedate policy meetings I’ve attended, truth be told.”

Belle smiled.

“We’re all here for the common good, I suppose,” she said. “Although in some cases I’m not sure how much common good they’re really interested in doing.”

“First rule of policy-making,” he said. “Try not to kill off half your contributors in a fit of righteous anger. Tempting though it is.”

“Hmm.” She was amused. “I don’t remember reading that one in the welcome pack.”

“Unwritten rule,” he corrected, raising a finger. “I think the pack said some bollocks about understanding motivation and managing expectations.”

Belle bit back a grin.

“I guess I’m not cut out for a career in diplomacy,” she said, and he smiled.

“Gets easier the more you do it.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Well, thank goodness you’ll believe one thing that comes out of my mouth.”

It was said in a dry tone, but he was still grinning, and she returned the smile. There was a moment of silence, and he pushed up from the desk, crossing to the dresser.

“I was going to have a drink,” he said. “May I offer you one? There’s whisky, port, brandy… If that’s not to your taste I could easily have something brought in.”

“Uh - okay.” Belle was beginning to feel as though she had stepped into a strange parallel universe, where small town librarians sat and drank with the leaders of nations as a matter of course. “Thank you. I’ll take a brandy.”

“Excellent choice,” he said vaguely, and opened one of the doors of the dresser, taking out two brandy glasses.

Belle watched as he reached for one of the decanters and poured two small measures. His suit pants fitted him very well, skimming his rear as he moved. She shook her head, telling herself to stop ogling the man. Sutherland turned, glasses in hand, and nodded towards the armchairs.

“Take a seat,” he said.

Still feeling as though she was dreaming, Belle took the glass he held out and sat down, crossing her legs and watching as he put down his glass and lowered himself into the seat opposite. She took a sip of her brandy to take her mind off how good he looked, and how much better he might look if he lost the tie and unfastened the first few buttons of that crisp white shirt. The brandy was very good, far better than she was used to, and she licked her lips, enjoying the taste of caramel and spice and the pleasant heat on her tongue. Sutherland took a drink, sucking in his cheeks and setting down his glass on the coffee table. He looked tired.

“Are your work days usually this long?” she asked, and his eyebrows flicked upwards.

“It’s barely six-thirty,” he said. “I still have a few hours left in me.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a work-life balance,” she observed. Sutherland pulled a face.

“Gets a little quieter at recess, but no, I don’t suppose it is,” he said.

“Are you married?” she asked, and Sutherland shook his head.

“Divorced.”

“Oh,” said Belle. “I’m sorry.”

“No no, it’s fine,” he said, sitting back. “It was amicable. We’re still friends.”

“Oh.”

“She’s engaged to a High Court judge now,” he added. “I wish her every happiness.”

“Oh.” For God’s sake, Belle, say something intelligent. “You have kids?”

“A daughter,” he said. “Grown up now. Early twenties.”

“Oh.”

Sutherland took a drink, seeming to savour the taste of brandy on his tongue before swallowing. His gaze was steady, his eyes dark, and she could feel faint stirrings of desire in her lower abdomen. She looked down into her brandy glass, watching the ripples in the amber liquid and telling herself to snap out of her crush.

“What about you?” he asked then, making her look up. “You married? Children?”

“You mean you didn’t have me checked out?” she asked dryly, and he shrugged.

“Maybe you’re good at hiding things,” he said. “Or, as is more likely, Anna told me and I forgot about it.”

Belle bit back a smile.

“Well, hiding a husband and children would be beyond me,” she said. “Luckily I have no need. No family. Well, there’s my dad back in Melbourne, but apart from that I’m on my own.”

“No large, intimidating boyfriend?” he asked. “Or maybe a girlfriend, what do I know?”

“Neither,” she said. “Last relationship was pretty crappy, to be honest. Made me want to take a break for a while.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “I understand.”

“I thought you said you were on good terms with your ex.”

“Well…” He waved a hand. “I vaguely remember what it was like to be young. Aeons ago.”

She scoffed.

“Come on, you’re not that old.”

“Bloody feels like it, sometimes,” he grumbled.

“Well, that’s what comes from running the country,” she said pertly. “It’s why I stick to running a library.”

“No doubt that comes with its own stresses.”

“Only when I’m threatened with closure by arrogant, shortsighted politicians,” she quipped, and he snorted in amusement.

“Well, thank fuck there aren’t many of those around.”

Belle giggled before catching herself, and he was grinning as he leaned further back in his chair. His eyes gleamed when he smiled, and she couldn’t decide whether it was more or less arousing than when he was angry. A dangerous path for your thoughts to take, Belle.

“Did you say your daughter was in her twenties?” she said, trying to steer the conversation onto a safe topic. “Is she at university?”

“No no, she’s finished studying,” he said. “She’s started work in the City. Not in politics, thank God.”

“You wouldn’t want her to go into politics?” she asked, and he wrinkled his nose.

“I don’t think she’d be happy,” he said. “It can be a lonely, painful existence, and you make as many enemies as friends. Probably more, if I’m honest. She has a gentle heart, and I wouldn’t want to see her harden it to survive.”

“It seems a shame that people have to,” said Belle. “I think politicians could stand to be more compassionate, not less.”

Sutherland took another sip of his drink, eyeing her as he licked an amber bead of brandy from his lower lip.

“I’m sure you’re right,” he said. “Alas, we have to deal with the world as it is, not as we might want it to be.”

“So why did you decide it was what you wanted to do?” she asked. “Did you always want to end up running the country?”

“No, I can’t say it was a childhood dream,” he admitted. “I started out as a barrister. The politician wasn’t born until I was in my late thirties.”

“So why politics?” she asked. “I’m guessing it wasn’t for the money.”

Sutherland pulled a wry face, taking another drink.

“I was earning more at the bar, certainly,” he said. “Far better work-life balance, as well.”

“Ego, then?” she suggested, and he grinned.

“That was certainly part of it.”

Belle waited, and he sighed, turning the brandy glass between his hands.

“Would you believe me if I said I thought I could make things better?” he asked.

“My new-found cynicism wouldn’t,” she remarked, and he chuckled.

“To the tragic death of innocence.”

He raised his glass in a mock toast, and Belle grinned, raising her own before sipping her brandy. The drink was almost gone, and she found herself regretting having drunk it so quickly. She would have to leave as soon as it was done, and to her great surprise she was enjoying their conversation.

“Do you think you have?” she asked. “Made things better?”

Sutherland hesitated, turning the glass between his fingers.

“I suppose it’s a work in progress,” he said. “But I’m trying. Perhaps not in the ways you would want me to.”

“I don’t suppose what I think matters,” she said, and he shook his head.

“You might be surprised at what matters to me, Miss French.”

He took another sip of his brandy, his eyes fixed on hers, and she could feel herself shiver. She drained her glass, setting it down on the table with a loud clink.

“Well,” she said, a little breathlessly. “I should go. I feel as though I’ve been wrung dry and turned inside out, and I could really use some sleep before I have to do it all again tomorrow.”

He smiled at that, setting his glass beside hers.

“In that case, I’ll show you out. Anna will expect me to have read those papers by the time she gets back.”

“She seems very committed to her job,” observed Belle, and he grinned.

“Couldn’t do my own without her,” he said. “I need someone to keep me in line.”

“I won’t argue with that,” she remarked, and he chuckled, a deep laugh that made her belly clench.

“I can see why she likes you,” he said, and strode to the door, opening it up and nodding to the Special Branch officers outside. “Good evening, Miss French. It’s a pleasure to be working with you.”

Belle nodded, slipping from the room and heading back along the corridor. A smiling woman with a dark ponytail and a brisk manner showed her out, and she stepped into the street with a sigh of relief. The press pack had gone, and she walked down towards the gates, smiling thanks to the police officer that let her out into the street beyond. It had been a long day, there was another to come, and her crush on the Prime Minister was developing into full-blown lust.

#fic: manifesto #sutherelle fic #sutherelle #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #my fic #anyelle

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larry-lutsky · 3 years

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Burying the Past

George Martin finished his miserable shift at the usual time and took the same bus that made 23 excruciating stops until it reached his station in the Gravesend section of Brooklyn. Then there was the 14-block walk in the blistering July heat until he reached the humble, bungalow style house he had inherited from his mother a few years before. The house was aging and crumbling much the way he was at 57-years old. He looked and felt a lot older than his years. Forty years of manual labor will do that to a man, as his craggy, weather-beaten face will attest to. After forty years, he didn't have much to show for it, staying as the same job he started as a teenager. The kind of job usually done by immigrants from Latin America and the Caribbean who were generally, much younger, faster and stronger than him. It was only a short matter of time when he couldn't do it anymore. Then he would have really nothing left, no family, friends, or money to live his few remaining years in dignity. “I may as well just end it now,” he thought to himself as he started the long trek from the bus station to his home. He already had the plan in place after he bought the gun on the street a week ago. This was going to be his last day on earth.

After entering his house, he turned on the light, closed the blinds, and took the revolver out of the top drawer of the credenza. He opened the chamber and checked to make sure he had a full complement of bullets. After all, he figured, the first bullet may misfire or he might flinch and miss his head even at point blank range. Better to have spare bullets so he wouldn’t have to get up and reload and maybe lose his nerve. He placed the revolver on the table next to the chair and sat down. Then he picked it up and pointed it at the side of his forehead, closed his eyes, and slowly squeezed the trigger. Buzzzzz! The door buzzer was always way too loud, and the unexpected noise jolted him out of the chair. His mother had made the buzzer extra loud as she was hard of hearing, and he never bothered figuring out how to lower the volume. After all, almost no one ever buzzed his door. Who the hell would be buzzing it now at 7 pm? George walked over to the window beside the door and peered out. There was a well-dressed young man standing in front of the door; it was not someone he recognized. George tapped on the window and gestured to the young stranger, but he could not hear what George was saying through the window. The young man pointed to the door and seemed to mouth “please.” George went back to the table and put the revolver back into the drawer. Then he walked back, reluctantly opened the front door, and said, “Yes?” “I’m so sorry to disturb you,” said the young man. “Are you George Martin?” George looked him up and down and replied. “Yes, I am. What do you want?” “I would like to talk with you for a few moments in private,” the man replied. “Talk with me about what?” George asked with a hint of irritation in his voice. “I can’t talk out here,” the main replied, nodding in the direction of his next-door neighbor who was sitting on his porch within earshot. “It’s something important, and I promise not to take up much of your time. Can I please come inside?” George shrugged, stood to the side, and stretched his arm out, pointing the way inside. “Fine. Suit yourself.” The young man sat on the couch while George sat on the chair. “I’ll get right to the point,” the young man said. “My name is Ralph Mercado and I have reason to believe that you are my father.” George sat in stunned silence for a while, studying Ralphs’ face. Indeed, the shape of his face was very similar to his own, and he had the slightly hooked nose and the same kind of wavy, brown hair. In fact, Ralph was the spitting image of how George looked when he was in his early 20’s. George did briefly have a girlfriend named Veronica Mercado about 23 years ago, a Dominican beauty, with long flowing hair, and a model’s figure. She had a volatile temper and mood swings that made it impossible to maintain the relationship. George finally broke the awkward silence. “Is your mother Veronica? When Ralph nodded, George continued. “She never told me she was pregnant. I never knew she had a kid.” “My mother always told me that my father died so I never tried to find you,” Ralph said. “She didn’t want me to know you. Then after she passed away eight years ago, I Ivied with my aunt for a while, and she didn’t tell me anything about you. More recently I found evidence that you are alive, and from information I managed to piece together from other relatives I traced you to this address.” “I’m sorry to hear that your mom passed away, but what do you want from me?” George replied. “If you want money, I don’t have any.” “No, no, no,” Ralph practically shouted back. “I don’t want money. I just wanted to meet you and maybe have some sort of relationship. I’ll tell you what. I’ll write my name and phone number on a slip of paper, and if you want, you can call me sometime and we can talk or maybe meet somewhere. If you are not interested, that’s OK. You will never see or hear from me again. It’s entirely up to you.” Ralph wrote his number of a slip of paper, handed it to George, and started walking towards the door. He briefly stopped, turned around, and said, “It was nice meeting you. Perhaps we will talk again. Good night.” After Ralph left, George walked over to the drawer, looked at the revolver, and thought, “Can’t do it now. So much to think about. Maybe another day.”

George met Ralph at their preassigned location in a bar on Surf Avenue near where Ralph lived in Coney Island. It was a warm, humid day, but the gentle sea breeze provided some relief. George found Ralph sitting at a barstool in the back, sidled down next to him, and ordered two Heinekens. Ralph seemed glad that George showed up. George sounded so hesitant on the phone when he called that Sunday morning to arrange the meeting that that Ralph had his doubts. After making some small talk, George had a contrite expression on his face when he admitted he had a confession to make. “I lied when I said I didn’t know that Veronica was pregnant. She did tell me. I didn’t want a kid and I paid her to have an abortion. Obviously, she did not go through with it. I wonder what she did with my money.” Ralph had a disturbed look on his face. “Did my mother not want to have me?” he stammered. She showed me so much love and she was a religious Catholic who would not approve of abortion. She never missed a Sunday mass.” “She went back and forth on it,” George replied. One week she wanted to have the baby; the next week she did not. Back and forth, back and forth. I don’t know if you know this about your mom. I went with her to the psychiatrist because of her crazy mood swings – this was early in the relationship - and he diagnosed her as bipolar. She took her medication at first, but then she stopped because she said it made her sluggish. Later she had the delusion that there was nothing wrong with her, and maybe her moods were due to devil possession. She thought she could deal with it by praying and lighting candles in church. She even went to a woman who claimed she could cure her with an exorcism. Needless to say, none of this worked.” Ralph sat silently taking this all in. “Well,” he said, “she was certainly very moody, but she never told me about the diagnosis. Her religious views were kind of nutty, though I didn’t think she would go as far as seeing an exorcist. I’m glad you told me. Now I have to make a confession too. It’s not true that I don’t want anything from you. The truth is that I’m dying and I’m hoping you can save my life.” George looked shocked. Ralph looked like the picture of health. He was tall, muscular, and energetic; he seemed to exude good health. “What’s wrong?” George asked. “I have a congenital condition,” Ralph continued. “The result of this condition is that my kidneys are totally shot. If I don’t find a donor soon, I’ll be dead in 6 months. I can’t find a donor with a match and the waiting list is too long for me. I’m hoping you as my dad will be a match.” “But can’t you be kept alive with dialysis?” George replied. “Yes,” Ralph said, “but I refuse to live that way. If I don’t get a donor in 6 months, I’m refusing the dialysis. I won’t be hooked up to tubes for 3-4 times a week for years and years. I would rather die than live like that.” George put his arm around Ralph's neck and said, “Don’t worry son. I’ll go for the test, and if we are a match, I will donate my kidney. It’s the least I can do. You’re too young to die.” George woke up in the recovery room still groggy from the anesthesia. The transplant surgery was scheduled just two weeks after finding out he was a suitable match to become a donor so there was little time to think about the operation beforehand. He was glad for that because he had made up his mind to be a donor and didn’t want to think of the consequences or what may go wrong. Now there was just the long wait to find out how the operation went. Finally, the surgeon walked in, looked down at the chart, and then at George's eyes. “Hello, Mr. Martin, how are you feeling?” the doctor said with a faint smile. George grimaced and said, “Very tired and a lot of pain on the lower right side of my back.” That’s normal,” answered the doctor. “The operation went very well. I expect that you will be up and out of here in three days.” “That’s great,” replied George. “How is Ralph doing?” He could see by the doctor's expression that something was wrong. The doctor’s smile faded and he hesitated before replying, as if to collect his thoughts before proceeding. “Ralph has some complications,” he started and paused again. His congenital condition has caused more problems than just with his kidneys so this is more difficult than the usual transplant. In addition, for some reason his body is rejecting the implant. We are doing the best we can with immunosuppressant drugs and we have to run some more tests to see what can be done. Right now, I just want you to rest as much as possible and we will give you updates as his condition changes.” After George was released from the hospital, he would get daily updates from the hospital on Relph’s condition. His condition was touch and go; sometimes there were hopeful hints that there was improvement, and even when an infection set in, he seemed to respond well to antibiotics. But now it was a week later and the caller ID indicated the doctor was calling at an unusually early time, 7 AM. George had a lump in his throat as he picked up the phone. This couldn’t be good news. Indeed, it was not. Ralph, his only child, who only recently came into his life, had succumbed to an infection that had rapidly become septic. His aunt told him that Ralph requested cremation and that there was be a memorial service as soon as it could be arranged. Later he would learn that Ralph changed the beneficiary on his life insurance policy at work and that a check for one-hundred thousand dollars was on its way. That would be enough money for him to quit his job and finally retire with a modicum of dignity. “It’s strange,” Ralph thought to himself. “I couldn’t save my son’s life, but somehow in trying to save him I ended up saving myself instead.” He could feel the dread that plagued him for so many years lift from his shoulders. He slowly walked to the drawer where he kept his revolver, pulled out the gun, opened the chamber, took out the bullets, and dumped them in the trash can. Then he took it to his small backyard with a trowel and started digging a hole. When the hole was deep enough, he dropped the gun into it and covered it up. It felt like he was not just burying the gun, but burying the past as well. George got up from his crouch and slowly walked back to the house while wiping his hands from the dirt. There were many more miles to travel and a memorial to plan.

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mymarvelbunch · 4 years

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Different Roads... Same Destination: Part One

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (established)

Summary: When the Avengers went back in time to get the Infinity Stones, new timelines were created. By not delivering them back to their exact same spots, you and Steve created major changes in those timelines. What happened? (Non-American!Reader)

This is a sequel to “Be Your Own Hero”. I highly recommend you read it first, since it features many major changes in canon that are addressed here.

Notes: Y/N = your (first) name; Y/Co = your home country; Y/Ci = your home city; Y/N/L = your native language (to be ignored in case you speak English).

Masterlist

Part One

New York, 2012

The Avengers were still trying to understand what happened when a loud ‘thud’ was heard. Tony turned to see the Scepter lying on the ground.

“Well, here is the thing Loki used to brainwash people”, he said. “But where is the Tesseract?”

“This isn’t the Mind Stone”, Loki said. “They placed the Tesseract in the Scepter.”

Everyone turned to him. He had already been right minutes prior, when he pointed out there were four Avengers from the future. Now the team was more inclined to believe him again, especially Thor.

“How do you know this, brother?”, he asked, frowning.

“The glow is different, for starters. And... I don’t know how to say this accurately, but I feel different when the Mind Stone is near me. Ever since those warriors came from the future and took it, I felt... lightweight, even if for brief moments. As if...”

Thor’s eyes widened. “As if the Mind Stone has some sort of power over you.” Loki nodded weakly. “Well, this is important information. Mother will certainly know to fix this. Stark, hand me the Scepter. It will be safer in Asgard.”

A SHIELD agent opened his mouth to protest, but there was little they could do as Tony gave Thor the Scepter. The Asgardian walked to the open balcony, his brother in his arm, and left, though not without asking his ‘brothers-in-arms’ to find the Mind Stone first.

“We’ll do surveillance around the Tower”, Runlow said, “with your permission, Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. I don’t want that thing near any of us.”

“Wait”, Tony said. “Loki was under mind control back then?”

You turned behind to face him, but a quick glance told you almost everyone was surprised. “You didn’t know? He told me back in 2014.”

Loki wasn’t there to defend himself, busy as he was being king, but Thor was. “Honestly, I didn’t know either, not until Asgard was destroyed. Loki told me on our way here that Mother chose to perform her purification spells out of everyone’s eye because... It would be better (or less worse) to have people believe Loki had turned evil than to have them know about Thanos. But yes, he was under Thanos’ influence through the Mind Stone. It wasn’t exactly like what he did to Barton and others, but close enough.”

That made an awful lot of sense. No one had a good answer for that, and they turned back to the ‘screen’.

It took five years for the Mind Stone to be found. In the meantime, SHIELD was dismantled, the Winter Soldier was revealed to be a brainwashed Bucky Barnes and HYDRA was taken down piece by piece.

There was no Scarlet Witch, no Quicksilver, no Ultron, no Sokkovia Accords, no Zemo. Steve found Bucky in Bucarest in 2016 and, after weeks of talking and with Sam’s help, took him to New York. There, they faced another battle, as many people wanted him in jail for the crimes he committed as the Winter Soldier.

Surprisingly, their help came from Tony. “I know what he did to my parents, yeah. I read all those files Romanov leaked. But we all saw what brainwashing does to a person, huh?”

No, Tony and Bucky didn’t become friends. Despite his forgiveness, Tony was still wary of him; poor man had his own mental health issues to face already. But he was willing to pay the best lawyers to convince the public that Barnes had no control over himself for the past seven decades, and that the Winter Soldier was nothing but a weapon in HYDRA’s hands. It took time and money, but it was worth it, for Bucky was absolved and reclaimed his status as war hero.

Even so, he didn’t want to stay in US. “Too many memories”, he explained, and Steve understood. It all got worse when one of Tony’s employees found a glowing Stone in the elevator shaft. Thor wasn’t on Earth when it happened, so the Mind Stone stayed at the Tower for a while. Needless to say, Steve was worried, and Bucky was terrified.

“I found a place that might be good for you”, Maria Hill told him one day. “Y/Ci, in Y/Co. It’s a place untouched by HYDRA and with no evidence that the Winter Soldier ever stepped foot in there. No memories, no triggers.”

Bucky accepted the offer almost immediately, and Steve was happy to follow him. “I’ve had enough fights for a lifetime”, he said. “We should have retired from soldier duty decades ago, Bucky. We both deserve a normal life.”

It was early 2018 when they finally settled, and, upon Steve’s insistence, Bucky started looking for mental health care facilities.

Your grip on Steve’s hand tightened when you recognized the mental health facility Bucky got inside. “I was an intern there at college”, you said. Steve’s eyes widened, and he grinned.

“Maybe Bucky will be the one to get you instead of me”, he teased.

Behind you, whispers could be heard.

“It’s weird to not see myself with you guys”, Wanda said. “I wish I could know if Pietro is alive.” Vision rested his hand on her shoulder, likely reflecting on how would his life be if he had stayed as a disembodied voice.

“Wakanda wasn’t even mentioned”, Shuri said. “I guess with father still alive, the borders remained closed.”

“Probably the reason why Bucky moved to Y/Co instead of Wakanda”, Sam added. “If people still think Wakanda is a poor country, no one would think of it as a mental health care reference.”

“I’m not mentioned either”, Scott said, “which is kind of weird, because I don’t see why I wouldn’t meet at least Sam.”

“Yeah, but there was no fight in Germany for you to take part of”, Hope replied. “They probably never contacted you again. Parker isn’t mentioned either.”

Someone shushed them.

Even though he had scheduled it all by himself, Bucky didn’t want to go his first appointment alone. So, when Y/N called for Sebastian Stan (his new alias), he and Steve (who called himself Chris Evans) stood up together from their seats.

Inside, Bucky soon confessed his true identity. Your surprise was visible for five seconds, and then you smiled. “I’m glad you trusted me with such a delicate information, Mr. Barnes. But I wish you’d tell me your story with your own words, not just what was said about you on newspapers.”

Steve stayed inside the whole time, having also revealed who he was. Bucky didn’t tell his whole story at once, give there was a time limit for his appointment, but you asked him to come back in a week. “We can’t give you any concrete diagnosis for now, Mr. Barnes, though we have a few suspicions. But I assure you we’ll help you in every step of your recovery. You won’t be alone.”

After three more sessions, he was diagnosed primarily with PTSD, along with general anxiety disorder and memory problems (he had yet to remember key details of his past).

You were supposed to leave the facility at the end of the month, but your mentor offered you a prolonged stay. “You mentioned your next internship would be in surgery, and you don’t like it, right? I can pull some strings to keep you here. It’s not like you’ll need those skills to become a psychiatrist.”

You happily accepted his help. You’ve always been sure of what you wanted to do after finishing college; skipping surgery internship was honestly a dream come true, and you were eager to follow Barnes’ case. Your classmates didn’t know his true identity, but the case discussions made it clear you got one of the most complex cases at the facility, and some classmates envied you.

Your teacher was successful, and for the following three months you stayed, taking care not only of Barnes, but of other patients as well. It was a wonderful experience, and you were sure you had fallen into the staff’s good graces, which increased your chances at getting into residency program there after graduation.

As the weeks went by, though, you noticed something rather odd. Barnes had been getting inside the room alone since his fifth appointment, but Rogers still accompanied him, waiting for him outside. Eventually, you asked your patient why that was, assuming he’d say he still didn’t feel safe coming alone. Instead, he grinned.

“Oh, he pretends he comes for my sake, but he actually just wants to get a glimpse of you.”

You nearly choked on your own saliva.

At your side, Steve laughed and hugged you tight.

“Guess I didn’t steal Y/N from you after all, punk”, Bucky said, grinning just like his alternate counterpart.

“Thank God”, you replied. “No offence, Bucky, but seeing us dating would have been way too awkward.”

“Couldn’t agree more.”

---x---

It wasn’t easy for Steve to convince you to go on a date with him. You were hesitant, given he was her patient’s best friend and roommate, but eventually you conceded.

“We won’t talk about Barnes at all”, you said firmly. “And if I sense this will affect my relationship with my patient, it’ll be over.”

“Yes, ma’am”, he replied instantly, willing to do anything to see you more.

You had charmed him from day one, and his interest on you only grew as weeks went by. When the day of your date arrived, he was a nervous wreck.

“Haven’t seen you like this since Peggy”, Bucky mentioned.

“Shut up, jerk”, he retorted. “And go hide, I don’t want Y/N to see you and cancel our date.”

“She’s got you wrapped around her finger and you haven’t even kissed yet”, he teased, but left to his room anyway.

A date led to another, and another, and another... Steve waited for you to leave the facility and stop seeing Bucky to ask you to be his girlfriend, and she promptly agreed.

A year later, when you met the Avengers for the first time, Thor told the story of how he, Loki and others fought Thanos when he invaded Asgard to take the Space and Mind Stones. Your eyes widened as he gleefully detailed the purple alien’s demise.

“Glad you defeated him still in Asgard”, Tony said. “We just found out about another of these Stones here on Earth. A wizard here in New York is its guardian.”

“Really? Give me his address, I figure we have much to discuss.”

You didn’t really understand all those talks, but Steve’s visible relief was enough information for you.

On the current timeline, that same relief was visible among everyone. “A peaceful timeline”, you commented. “I hope there are more of these.”

After Strange showed what happened to the Avengers who were not featured, Wong took his place to show another timeline. You straightened your back as the ‘screen’ showed you briefly kissing Steve in Morag.

Did you like it? I was looking forward to write about the consequences of those changes. Butterfly effect is strong here.

For those who don’t remember, in ‘Be Your Own Hero’ Loki tells the Reader he was under the influence of the Mind Stone in the events of the first Avengers movie. This is a popular theory that explains some differences between his behavior in that movie and his behavior on... well, any other movie he’s in.

In this, I try to touch on how things would be different if this information was made known right away, instead of being kept a secret. Being seen as a victim instead of a villain changes a lot for Loki’s story, and therefore Thor’s arc as well (The Dark World and Ragnarok’s. It also helps Tony understand Bucky’s story and actions better, since he saw the effects of mind control on Clint and Loki.

Scarlet Witch, Quicksilver, Ultron and Vision are all products of the Mind Stone, meaning that, in its absence, they don’t exist. The events of Age of Ultron are what make Civil War happen, meaning one doesn’t exist without the other. With no Civil War, nobody reaches out to Scott, T’Challa doesn’t become king to open the borders, and Peter Parker’s role in Tony’s life is probably less significant (though I do believe he mentors the teenager anyway).

If you want to follow my crazy ideas on time travel and its consequences, taglist is open!

#steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #marvel imagine #The Avengers

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never---ending---story · 4 years

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A Year Redacted

Possible triggers: Death mentions/implied death, hysterics, panic, and not believing. They also call a person who’s in hysterics, insane.

See end of the post for inspirations

Word count: only 1,741

—————————————————

The morning was just another day really. It didn’t start in shambles or with the universe collapsing. Eli had woken up grumpily and everything was blurry. He forgot why. Last night he was up studying a recent breakthrough on black holes. Maybe his vision was clouded by sleep. Hopefully, it would clear up soon. So, he stumbled blindly around his apartment until he stumbled into his roommate, Damien, who snorted.

“There you are!” He exclaimed “you left these on the bathroom counter,” he said holding out something. It was a blur of black lines. They almost looked like- oh. Glasses. They were his glasses. That was the missing piece. Eli had worn glasses for 16 years by now how could he have possibly forgotten. He felt overwhelmingly embarrassed as he put the glasses- his glasses and looked at Damien. He had a mildly amused expression on his face and his jet black hair stuck out at odd angles.

“What is it,” he asked, “you look confused. And I might add embarrassed, your cheeks red.”

Eli sighed and shook his head “I just,” a chuckle escaped his lips “is it dumb that I forgot that I wear glasses?”

“You forgot that you- Eli you’ve had those for-”

“Sixteen years. Yeah, Yeah I get it. No need to harass me,” Eli crossed his arms as Damien laughed at him

“You act like it’s the end of the world. You were probably just unreasonably tired, I saw you up at like 2 am” Eli’s roommate took a step past him, “you want some coffee? We can stop by Starbucks or someplace.”

“We have a coffee maker idiot.”

Damien waltzed into the kitchen and opened a cabinet. “So what? Everything is better when it’s not in this crappy apartment”. The black-haired man stood on the tip of his toes and grabbed a cereal box from the top shelf. Damien was short-ish, around 5’9, so he always wore platform shoes. They made him confident until someone commented on him. Obviously, he wasn’t wearing the shoes at 5 am seeing as he was still in his pajamas and pouring his milk before his cereal like a psychopath.

“I hate how you make cereal,” Eli commented, “you’re worse than a serial killer.”

“Eli, the Zodiac Killer wishes he were me”

Eli snorted and walked into the kitchen, leaning against the counter. “You do know that cereal is terrible for you right?”

Damien shrugged “That’s kinda the point. Maybe if I eat enough I’ll go into a coma. Lord knows I need to catch up on sleep.”

Eli couldn’t argue with that as he fished a handful of cereal out of the box and into his hand. He carefully tilted his head back and dumped cereal into his mouth. Damien made fake gagging noises. Eli only called it a “feast fit for a king” before he walked off to get ready for another, likely uneventful, day with the addition of Damien following him around as his mentee.

When Eli and Damien walked into the lab everything seemed okay. Nothing was out of place, besides one scientist who Eli knew as Eric Channing. The man had a brilliant mind and was usually calm and collected. Today was different. Eric ran about the lab talking to people, looking as if he were begging them to do something. Damien, who was following Eli around, nudged his shoulder.

“Is he okay?” he asked quietly, “He looks just about ready to break down.”

Eli observed Eric more. He was fidgeting and tugging on people’s arms with a look that Eli could only describe as pure fear. He was talking fast and his eyes were wide as saucers. Dr.Channing’s hair was sticking out at odd angles. He locked eyes with Eli across the room and ran over. He looked about ready to cry.

“Dr.Nunn!” He cried, grabbing both of Eli’s arms, “You have to listen to me,” he begged. Eli glanced over at Damien with worry, by the mentee only looked mildly amused. He looked back at Eric.

“What can I do for you?” he asked.

Eric took a deep breath, “the world is going to end if we don’t stop our current time traveling project.” he said. A scientist walked by “sure it is buddy” he mumbled. Seems Eric really had gone to everybody. “If you go through with the current project you’ll get us all killed.” Eric continued as if he hadn’t heard, which judging by the desperation he probably didn’t. He was too caught up in his own story that he didn’t notice. “I know you’re close to Carson! You have-” He pushed on, but Damien interrupted.

“Eric, are you okay. Do you need a doctor?” he asked

Eric looked ready to explode. “I AM A DOCTOR!” he all but screamed. He looked over to Eli again, a silent prayer hidden in his eyes. “Elijah you have to believe me.” he got choked up, “I don’t want to die. Not like this.”

Eli didn’t know what to think. Eric looked so serious, but the world wasn’t going to end. He would’ve known.

“Eric, where did you hear this?” Eli asked, and Eric looked crushed. Before he could get upset and say Eli didn’t believe him he started speaking. “I need solid evidence. It’s literally a part of my job. How did you hear that? What’s going to happen?”

Eric’s brown eyes lit up a bit but the fear on his face never left. “It’s hard to explain, but I found that the required amount of energy we need is just too much. After doing some calculations I found that if we go through with this it will-”

“Cause a power shortage?” Damien guessed, “that’s not the end of the world”

“Would you shut up Mr.Lee!? It’s not just going to cause a shortage it’s going to destroy the universe!” A chill went up Eli’s spine as Eric continued. “Either it would cause a reaction like the Big Bang that would wipe us out in minutes! Maybe even seconds. Or it would completely obliterate time and space.”

Eli felt a trickle of sweat trail down the back of his collar. Fear was in his every muscle. That couldn’t be real. Damien of the other hand had an unreadable emotion on his face

“That’s not funny Eric,” He said seriously, “do your math again. People like Eli have been studying this stuff for years.”

A few tears fell down Eric’s face but he wiped them away. “You’re horrible,” he hissed, “I’ve spent just as long on this project.” he was looking to Eli once more, “you believe me right? I’m not crazy…right?”

Eli wanted to say that he wasn’t crazy, but Damien was right. Eli had spent six years on this project. He and his team couldn’t have forgotten about something as important as that.

“Eric,” he said gently, pulling his arms out of the young man’s grasp, “I think you need to see a psychiatrist, or maybe just catch some sleep.”

Eric broke down then and there. He sobbed and fell to the floor. Eli wanted to console him, but the head of the lab, Dr. Carson Anderson, said he would handle it, so Damien dragged Eli away.

The next day, Eric was at his desk when Eli walked into the office. He was calmly typing out something on his computer.

Damien gave Eric an odd look and whispered to Eli, “It looks like someone needed a nap.” Eli glared at him and elbowed him in the side.

When the time came for the lab’s time travel unit to be tested, they were holding the envelope they were going to send. Eli bounced around excitedly with his fellow scientists (and Damien) as final checks were made. Everything was going fine. And still, everyone seemed on edge. Eric’s words bounced around Eli’s head, “Either it would cause a reaction like the Big Bang, Or it would completely obliterate time and space.”

Speaking of the devil, Eric calmly walked into the room and handed a letter to Dr.Carson Anderson. It was in a neat envelope, with a fancy lab wax seal. Carson smiled at Eric and put a hand on his shoulder as he spoke to him. When Eric was done talking to Carson, he walked over to Eli, and Damien.

Eli tapped him on the shoulder as the head of the lab packaged the letter they were sending. Apparently it was being sent back in time. As odd as it was, no one dared doubt, Carson. After all, he was a genius. Eric hummed in acknowledgment of Eli.

“Are you feeling any better,” he asked, “you were kind of a wreck yesterday.”

Eric shrugged, looking at his feet, ‘I’ve learned to cope.”

As Dr.Carson put the envelope in the machine, Damien asked: “So, your calculations were incorrect?”

Dr.Channing shook his head solemnly “No. We’re all going to die”. His voice was scarily calm and Eli felt himself shiver. “The letter they’re sending isn’t the one they wanted me to write. It’s a letter to the past. Kind of like a suicide letter, maybe a letter of mass homicide. It depends on how you look at it really.”

Eli was definitely shaking. From head to toe.

“I ran my numbers. Again and again. Nothing I did was wrong,” he looked at Eli and Damien with a dead stare. How ironic. “I’ve learned to accept it. Maybe if you believed me, you would have too.”

Damien put his hand on Eli’s shoulder as a comforting gesture. He could tell how utterly terrified Eli felt.

“We’re not going to die,” he whispered, “he’s just insane.” This didn’t help Eli’s nerves. He felt like crying. Was this how Eric felt.

Carson put his hand on the lever and started a countdown from ten with a broad smile.

Ten

Eli turned to Damien and shook his head, “I can’t do this.” he whispered

Eight

Damien quickly realized that if Eli was scared, he was bound to get scared too. Now was the moment

Six

Eric shook his head and checked his watch.

Four

Eli hugged Damien and buried his face in his jacket as the crowd of scientists got to three. “You’re my best friend, I love you,” He said, just loud enough for Damien to hear.

Two

Damien hugged him back tightly. “Eli I,-”

There was no time for anything else.

—————————————————

That’s my story, inspired by a school prompt. Here’s the newsletter I was given. This is what Eric sent to the past as a warning.

#fiction #end of me #end of time #end of the world #personal story #text post #story #original character #original content #original writing #original #my ocs #my writing #original chracter #time travel #implied death #death ment tw

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thing-you-do-with-that-thing · 6 years

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Ties That Bind - Part 2: A Place In The Clouds

Characters: (AU: first names are as in the show renaming a few last names to fit my story): Reader (Y/N Harvelle), Crowley McCloud (mentioned), Castiel Novak, Claire Stanford, Pamela Barnes (mentioned), Charlie Bradbury, Chuck Shurley (mentioned), Gabriel Benedict (mentioned), Meg Masters, Ben Braeden, Dean Winchester, Benny Lafitte, Bela Lafitte (mentioned), DJ Lafitte (OC-mentioned), Jimmy (OC), Oscar (OC)

Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually)

Warnings: Mention of abuse, mention of rape, mention of incest, mention of phedofilia, (none of these are graphic or dwelled on but they are part of the kid’s history), language, violence, use of weapons (knife and gun)

Word Count: 4500ish

A/N: Thanks to @blacktithe7 for betaing and helping me rework this series.

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

MASTERLIST

McCloud’s was made up of 5 buildings scattered around a small piece of land up on the hill just outside of town. It wasn’t further away than the kids could ride their bikes to school or to go shopping, but it was out of the way enough for a social workers to keep some level of control over who was coming and going, which was often important when dealing with kids from abusive homes. Each of the houses were named after parts of a ship. Crowley’s idea, and you had never gotten why, just accepted it for a fact.

A week after Ben’s arrest you were walking from the parking lot, passing the Deck and Beam, like you did every day coming to work. Those were the houses where the younger kids usually lived. There were exceptions when siblings were housed at The Clouds. The Clouds was the kid’s nickname for the home, and all of the social workers had taken to using it too. The kids that were housed in the Deck were babies and toddlers, and they weren’t there for long. The kids in the Beam were around 4-10 years old, and they only stayed at The Clouds for a year tops. It was one of the state rules. Kids that age had to be placed within a foster home or a permanent group home within a year. The Clouds was not a permanent home. It was a midway house for kids and teens. You accepted kids with a 3 hour notice. One social worker picked them up at hospitals or police stations while another made rooms ready for them. Your job was ever changing, and that was how you liked it, even if saying goodbye to the kids never because easier.

You continued through the big yard that all the houses shared. Too your left was the Bridge, and to you right was the Bow. Both of these houses were for tweens and teens. You worked at the Bow alongside Cas, Pamela, Gabriel, Charlie, and Chuck. Each house had 6 social workers and some temps to help out when needed. How the workload was divided differed from house to house, but at the Bow, you had chosen to team up in pairs. Each kid was assigned a primary and secondary social worker when they arrived at The Clouds, and if you were assigned primary, Cas would be your secondary and vice versa. Same went for Charlie and Chuck, and Gabe and Pamela.

Everyone looked after all the kids in the house when they were at work off course, but the primary and secondary assigned to the kid in question were the ones that handled meetings, parent contact, school functions and so on. It was Crowley’s idea that you paired up male and female to give the kids a sense of family, but who you had chosen to pair with he had left up to you. Gabe was good at keeping Pamela’s temper in check, and she was great at grounding him a bit. Charlie was outgoing and bubbly, which was a great counter to the more shy and collected Chuck. Cas was the reason and logic to your emotion and strong will. The six of you worked well together, and The Bow was the only house with no drama amongst the staff.

Right between the Bridge and Bow was the Lighthouse. The Lighthouse was where Crowley lived and worked. It was his home as well as the administrational building where all meetings were held. You had always loved that he cared enough to stay at the Clouds. He was always there, day or night, whenever his staff needed him. He knew all the kids by name, and even though he scared some of them a little, he was a good man. He fought for the kids under his roof, and he respected the people he had working for him and valued their opinions.

The Bow was quiet when you walked through the doors. Most of the kids were at school, and the rest were probably of with Pamela for the day. You made your way down the hallway passed the kids rooms and to the office.. It was empty when you walked in. Maybe Cas was running late? You put your coat and your bag in your locker before locking the office up behind you and walking back up the hall and towards the kitchen and the living room.

“Hello Y/N.” You jumped at the voice behind you and swiftly twirled around and hit his arm.

“Damnit Cas! Don’t do that,” you hissed at him.

Cas just smirked and walked passed you, putting the folder he was carrying down on the kitchen counter. “You scare to easy, Y/N.”

“No, I don’t,” you protested and frowned. “Where did you come from anyway? I was just in the office?”

“I was over at the Lighthouse. Crowley called a few minutes ago. The police report is in.” Cas stopped and looked at you. “You are not going to like it Y/N.”

You flew across the room and grabbed the folders on the counter. “They don’t believe her? How can they not. She was covered in bruises and…”

Cas walked around the counter and put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “There was no evidence of sexual assault the night she ran, and they are saying since she is 16 - 15 at the time, it is not uncommon for her not to be a virgin. Plus she has a history of lying about…”

“She wasn’t lying, Cas. She named the wrong person, and yes that was dumb, but she was scared. Everything she said happened back then did happen. It just wasn’t her teacher that raped her. It was her dad.”

You were furious. You knew the police report would carry a lot of weight with the county, and this was going to make your job a hell of a lot harder. You couldn’t let them send her back home. You knew you couldn’t make these cases personal, but this one was. Claire had gotten through your layer of professionalism. She was like a little sister to you and you couldn’t let her get hurt anymore.

Cas reached out to you and pulled you into a tight hug. “I know. Crowley talked to Meg. She is going to drag out the psych eval for a bit. Buy us sometime. Claire is not going anywhere today. None of us are going to let that happen. We got your back – all of us.”

You took a deep breath before pulling away and drying your eyes. “Okay what is our game plan here?”

Almost a year ago today, you had picked up Claire at the hospital. She had been treated for broken ribs and a split lip. When the doctor had asked her who had done it, she had said it was her father. After the police had interviewed her, they had called The Clouds, asking them to take her in. Claire had been your first case as a primary, and it had taken a lot of work to get her to open up to you, but she finally had. She had told you about how her father had come into her room every night ever since she turned 12. She had told you about his treats and the beatings that had gotten worse when she began to fight back. The night she had found her way to the hospital, she had kicked him in the nuts and managed to get away. She had pleaded with you to make sure she would never have to go back there, and you had promised her you would do everything you could to make sure that never happened. The police report in front of you did not make it easier for you to keep your promise.

***

You breathed a sigh of relief when you walked out through the doors of city hall and into the fresh afternoon spring air. The war was not yet won, but this battle was. The county social workers had agreed to let Claire stay at The Clouds for another 6 weeks to give Meg Masters, the psychiatrist that worked most of your cases, time to finish her eval on Claire. Having her there today had really helped. You were grateful to her for dropping everything when Crowley had called. She had showed up at the meeting, fighting for Claire alongside you and Cas against the two bull headed cops, who had written the report clearing Claire’s father of any wrong doings.

Meg smiled at you as she walked up beside you. “Well fought Y/N. You are getting good at this.”

You smiled back at her, grateful for her compliment. Your eyes wandered back to City Hall and to Cas, who was still behind the glass doors, finishing up some paper work. “Well I did have a great teacher.”

Your eyes found Meg’s again, and a slight blush showed on her cheeks. You knew she and Cas liked each other, but neither of them had the guts to ask the other out.

“Yes you have,” she quickly agreed before hugging you. “Say goodbye to him for me. I need to get back to the hospital and my clients.”

You smiled as you watched Meg hurry back towards her car, and you jumped for the second time that day when Cas’ disappointed voice sounded behind you. “She was off in a hurry.”

“Damnit Castiel!” You slapped his arm and fought to hold back a laugh. “I am going to put nails in your shoes or something. You move like a damn cat.”

“Sorry,” he grinned at you. “So we still have a few hours left of our shift. I was thinking about going down to see Ben at juvie. Do you wanna come, or do you want me to drop you off at The Clouds on my way so you can finish up the paperwork on Claire?”

Cas was primary on Ben Braeden, but the two of you tended to do everything together if you could get away with it. You didn’t need Cas to tag along with you everywhere anymore. He certainly didn’t need you, but you worked well as a team, and you both preferred it that way.

“I would love to come. I got a morning shift tomorrow so I can finish up while the kids are at school.”

Cas smiled at your words. “I was hoping you would say that.”

***

Seeing Ben had brought a lot of mixed emotions to the surface. You knew juvie was the worst place in the world for a kid like him. There would be way too many kids there trying to influence him and turn him into the kind of person he easily could become but really wasn’t. Ben never hurt anyone on purpose. He was a gently, kind boy who desperately needed a male role model in his life. He needed someone who would tell him he was doing right and that he could look up too.

You hated seeing the black eye some kid had given him. He apologized to you and Cas over and over, even though you both insisted he didn’t have too. You both wanted him to focus himself and keeping his nose clean. The two of you would get him back home after the hearing in a few weeks.

“You go sign us out,” Cas nodded towards the office around the corner. “I’ll call Meg and have her look in on him sometime this week. We could use her help at the hearing.”

“Sure you could,” you teased, and Cas immediately pulled a face at you.

“Would you stop that? There is nothing going on between the two of us.”

“I know there isn’t, but there should be.” You winked and smiled when you saw Cas blush, and you left him speechless as you headed down the hall and around the corner towards the office.

You weren’t really paying attention to where you were going. So when you felt like you ran into a brick wall, you dropped all of your folders and let out a small yelp. You started apologizing until you looked up and realized who the man you had collided with was.

“YOU?!”

***

Dean’s PoV

“Are you coming over tonight? DJ misses his uncle.” Benny grabbed his jacket from the chair and stopped to look at his partner who was just finishing up some paper work.

Dean looked up and smiled. “Not tonight buddy. I promised my dad I would stop by and help him get his old truck running, and I am thinking I might drop in on that Braeden kid on my way there.”

Benny frowned as he tried to recall the name. “You mean that kid who pulled a gun on you at the convenient store last week?” Benny smiled when Dean nodded. “Wow, that social worker chick really did a number on you brother.”

Dean was taken aback by Benny’s words, and his jaw dropped. “What? No. Are you kidding me? She was rude and bossy and she…”

“…was damn hot.” Benny finished Dean’s sentence, making him smile.

“Yeah well… It is not about her. It’s the kid. She said he was easy to influence, and he just seemed scared more than anything else. Nothing like the other two.”

Dean got up and grabbed his jacket, and Benny quickly followed him as they headed for the door. “So she said that did she?” His partner kept teasing him, and Dean shot him a glare.

“Would you stop that? A chick like that is way too much work. Besides she hates me.”

Benny sent his partner a big grin as they separated, each heading for their cars. “Oh believe me. They are worth it.”

Dean laughed, shaking his head and yelled after Benny before he got in the car. “Tell Bela and the kid I said hey.”

***

A few minutes later, Dean arrived at juvie, and he was greeted by the guard in the sign in office and put his name in the day book. Just as he turned around, she rounded the corner and ran straight into him. “Oh I am so sorry. I didn’t see….” She looked up and her eyes met his. “YOU?! What are you doing here?!”

There was something about her. She pushed all of his buttons, but he still felt drawn to her.

“Same as you I suspect,” Dean tried to keep his voice calm in spite of her rude greeting. “My job.”

She huffed and squatted down and started to gather up her papers, and Dean did the same in effort to help her. “What does that mean?”

Dean handed her back some of her papers and reached out to help her back up, but she brushed off his hand.

“It means that you cops only worry about the kids you lock up when you want something from them.”

Dean raised his brows and stared at her. Damn she was infuriating, but there was also something else. Something about the curve of her lips and the spark in her eyes that made him wanna reach out and pull her in for a bruising kiss. He fought the urge, and instead, he snapped back at her.

“Us cops huh? So you know me because you know what I do for a living?”

“Yes,” she raised her voice a little, and she didn’t back down. Actually, she took a step closer to him, and Dean had to admit he was a little impressed by her gumption even though her words pissed him off. “You have a motive for being here. You are not turning Ben into some snitch. He deserves to have a life.”

“You know what Miss Bleeding Heart, if he wanted to work for me, that would be his call. Not yours,” Dean snapped at her.

He had no idea why he said what he did. He had no intention of asking Ben to inform for him, but this Harvelle girl just had a way of making him lose his head.

“Don’t call me that. You are a cocky jerk cop who thinks he can do whatever he wants, because he is hiding behind a damn badge.”

She was full on yelling at him now and Dean was just about to open his mouth and bite back at her when a man appeared behind her. He quickly grabbed her arm and nodded at Dean before dragging her with him out of there, “Crowley called we are needed back to The Clouds.”

Dean turned around and looked after them. He saw how she shook herself loose of the guy’s grip and he could tell by her body language she wasn’t much happier with that guy right now than she was with him. Dean’s eyes rested on her form. Her long Y/H/C hair that she had tied into a ponytail and the way her hips swayed when she walked. Maybe Benny had been right? Maybe she was worth the fight? Dean couldn’t help but smile when he remembered the way she had looked at him when he stripped of his jacket and shirt in front of her to get his west on. She liked him. Or she would if she would just give him half a chance. Maybe someday she would. Dean admired her that was for sure. She was infuriation and stubborn as hell but she was courageous. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had spoken to him like that. Much less a girl.

Your PoV

“What did Crowley want?” You shook free of Cas’ grip when you were halfway down the hall, and Cas just stared back at you.

“Nothing. I haven’t spoken to him. I was saving you from making an enemy out of a cop. They might be jerks, but we need them, and you know that.” Cas scolded you, and your eyes narrowed.

“Castiel you can’t be serious. That guy put Ben in here. He doesn’t belong here.” you snapped at him as you followed him out the door, and Cas turned to look at you.

“I know that. But that cop… Detective Winchester, doesn’t. And you pissing him off is not going to help Ben’s case. He could be useful to have in our corner at the hearing, or at the very least, not fighting against us. Judges tend to listen to the cop that had a gun pointed at their face.”

You huffed, but you knew Cas was right. So you backed down a little. “He calls me a bleeding heart. He is a jerk with a badge.”

Cas smiled as he opened the car door for you. “Well you are. We all are, and what was it you said about me and Meg? Maybe you should make up an excuse to call that detective of yours?”

Your eyes opened wide, and your jaw dropped. “Have you lost your mind Cas. I can’t stand the guy.”

Cas let out a heartfelt laugh as he headed around the car to the driver’s seat. “Sure you can’t.”

A week later

It was a Saturday night, and most of the kids were out. Claire, Jimmy. and Alex were the only ones left at your house. The Deck and The Beam had quieted down for the night, and The Bridge seemed quiet too. You assumed the social worker’s had taken their group out for a weekend or day trip or something, because you hadn’t seen much of them all day.

Cas was down in Jimmy’s room playing some game on his laptop and you and the girls were in the kitchen baking and fooling around. You loved nights like this. Quiet and normal. Just what most of these kids needed. You smiled to yourself as you watched the girls fight over the recipe.

“If you two don’t stop that, I am going to start throwing flour,” you warned them, and they both laughed and pulled faces at you.

All of a sudden the front door slammed, and you jumped in front of both the girls instinctively. Oscar, a new 17 year old boy from The Bridge, stumbled through the door. At 5’9” and around 200 lbs, Oscar was a big guy. His pupils were dilated, and he was clearly on something. He stormed towards you before coming to a halt a few feet away.

“I need money!”

“Girls go to your rooms,” you quickly ordered them. Claire started to protest, but you shoved her towards the hall as you repeat yourself. Finally she followed Alex down the hall, but she passed her room.

“I need money!” Oscar repeated as he grabbed a knife and pointed it at you. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. You didn’t allow yourself to feel anything. Your only job was to keep the other kids safe. You knew you couldn’t get to the safe without walking past all of the kids rooms, and you couldn’t risk one of the girls, Jimmy, or Cas surprising him. You needed to try to reason with him.

“Oscar I can’t give you any. You know that. If you need money you need to talk to the staff at The Bridge.” Your efforts didn’t help, and the boy stepped closer, still pointing the knife at you.

“I will cut you bitch. I need cash now.”

“Okay...” You held your hands up in defense. “I can see that. Why don’t you tell me what you need it for, and I will see what I can do?” you offered, but Oscar just swung the knife at you. You jumped backwards, barely avoiding the reach of the blade.

“None of your damn business you cow. You just need to pay me now.”

Your new position allowed you a better view of the hallway, and you saw Cas slowly approaching the kitchen, nodding at you to keep the kid distracted. So you did. “Okay. Oscar, right?”

“What does my name matter?” the kid stormed forward just as Cas jumped, grabbing his legs and pulling him down with him.

You reacted fast, kicking the boy’s wrist hard enough to make him drop the knife. Cas struggled with him for a while before he got him wrestled into a lock on the floor, just as you turned back around from picking up the knife.

“Call 911.” Cas ordered, and you ran down the hall where Claire was hiding.

“I’m sorry I didn’t go to my room. I thought if I got Cas… I was afraid he was going to hurt you so….”

You smiled at her the best you could and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “You did good sweetie. But I need you to go to your room and stay there until Cas or I come for you okay?”

Claire nodded and ran down the hall just as you hurried into the office and picked up the phone.

Dean’s PoV

Dean and Benny had been heading back towards the station when they responded to the call. It would usually have been a job for one of the uniformed officers and not a detective, but they were less than five minutes out, so Dean had turned the car and sped up the hill towards The Clouds.

Y/N had greeted them at the door, and Dean knew it was serious when she completely ignored the fact that he was the one responding to the call. She just led them through the house where the other social worker Dean had seen at juvie a week ago was holding down huge kid who was clearly high off his ass. Dean didn’t give it a second thought – he jumped to the man’s aid, and together they got him wrestled off his side and onto his stomach; into Dean’s cuffs while Benny had his gun pulled, ready to respond in case the kid slipped out of their holds.

“Nice work.” Dean applauded the dark haired social worker as they helped each other pull the screaming and struggling kid onto his feet. As soon as he was up, Benny took over from the guy and gave Dean a quick nod when the sirens sounded outside. Benny led the kid, quiet forcefully, out the door and towards the newly arrived patrol car.

“So you wanna give me a speech as to why I shouldn’t arrest that kid too?” Dean turned his attention towards Y/N, but when he saw how pale she was, he could have bit his tongue. The dark haired social worker rushed to her side and helped her onto the couch before he sent Dean a hard glare.

“Back off a little would you?”

Dean nodded, bowing his head in guilt as he sat down in front of them. “I’m sorry.” He caught her eye, and when she just nodded, Dean really wanted to kick himself. He should have known better than to speak to a victim like that. He turned his attention to the man. “I don’t think we have met. I am Detective Dean Winchester.” Dean held out his hand and the man took it.

“Castiel Novak.”

Dean sent both of them a reassuring smile. “Okay Y/N and Castiel, I need you guys to tell me what happened tonight. Just take your time. I am not in a hurry.”

Dean stayed and listened for the better part of an hour, and the more Y/N and Castiel talked, the more he hated himself for his behavior earlier. When he was finishing up the interview, another social worker Castiel had called earlier to relieve them arrived. She ran right up to Castiel and Y/N and threw her arms around their necks.

“Thank God you two are alright.”

“We’re fine Charlie.” Dean watched Y/N send the red haired woman a weak smile. “Thank you for coming in. I just need to check up on Claire, and then I am heading home. Are we done here?” She returned her attention to Dean. He looked up to check in with Benny who nodded back at him.

“I finished interviewing the kids so if you’re…” Benny let his words trail out, and Dean returned his attention to Y/N.

He sent her a warm smile and nodded. “We’re done. If any of you remember anything else…” Dean pulled out two cards from his wallet and handed them to Y/N and Castiel, “don’t hesitate to call.”

Y/N nodded. She was still pale when she got off the couch and headed down the hallway. Dean and Castiel stood too, and together with Benny, they headed for the door.

“Don’t let her be alone tonight,” Dean spoke as he shook Castiel’s hand. “When the shock subsides, she is going to need a friend.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Castiel promised, and Dean’s heart sank a little as he couldn’t help but wonder if there was any hidden meaning behind those words. Dean nodded again before following Benny back to his car, silently wishing he could have been the one to be there for her tonight.

Dean Tag Team

@mizzzpink @emoryhemsworth @not-moose-one-shots @sleepylunarwolf @roxyspearing @blacktithe7 @atc74 @mogaruke @mysupernaturalfics @fatalcrossbow @mrswhozeewhatsis @goandsavemyunicorn @crushing83 @arryn-nyxx @superapplepie @salvachester @docharleythegeekqueen @walkingkhaleeesi @multifandombackpack @ruined-by-destiel @blushingdean @impala-dreamer @winchasterdean @iamabeautifulperson18 @peaceloveancolor @theoriginalvicki @feelmyroarrrr @hexparker @vvinch3st3r @shamelesslydean @katymacsupernatural @elevenofmages @jensen-gal @mysterious-398 @dustycelt @ericaprice2008 @adriellej @ashleydivine @waywardmoeyy @storytimewithylva @canadianjelly @percywinchester27 @featherleaf12 @percussiongirl2017 @sis-tafics @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @mayasmedberg @ruprecht0420 @jayankles @torn-and-frayed @its-not-a-tulpa @spn-fan-girl-173 @ryantherandomhero @lupine-princess @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @sylverminx @kathaswings @becs-bunker @mery-magizoologist @sandlee44 @sillesworldofwriting @mariahoedt @akshi8278 @michellethetvaddict @samisimportant @wishuponastarlana @bebravekeeponfighting @smoothdogsgirl

TTB Tag Team

@grace-for-sale @superflurry @miah7hant @oneshoeshort @two-feet-of-topsoil @laurenisnot @angelsandwinchesters @mina22 @spnmariiscake @earthtokace @korrababy @daughterleftbehind @justdrankaliquorstore @gloria1097

#dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester series #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester #dean angst #dean fluff #dean smut #dean series #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #dean winchester angst #dean winchester au #dean au

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stone-man-warrior · 3 years

Text

December 22, 2020: 3:37 pm:

===========================

Thunderbird’s Episode 6: Day of Disaster

============================================

youtube

This one is an extension of the previous plan devised to take over the Capitol Records Building from previous episode “Edge of Impact” explained here on this account yesterday.

The plan is portrayed at the beginning and throughout with coded ideas about use of a restroom, some coffee, a swallowed microphone transmitter, some water, some blockage, things that float, could make a mess, might get some on your hands... all presented with a rocket that breaks a bridge and a rescue effort, which in the real world, these small details in code were used as a means to take over Hollywood, at Capitol Records.

The plan includes that there is diversion/distraction, presented by Penelope and Parker blowing up a abandon research center, in reality could have been a traffic jam accident on the 405 Freeway, and/or other such places where Los Angeles area emergency and police (many of them were operatives at the time) would be busy nearby the Capitol Records Building at the time of the attack there. Those places where the distraction emergencies were done, then, became a sort of mobile command and resource center for use by those who actually went into the Capital Records Building. Terror operative police and equipment all would have been nearby, for use as nitrous gas fogging of the area, and for use as backup for the actual attack party, and for use as clean-up/OxCart services for hauling victims away.

The attack seems to consist of focus on top-floor executives, who were poisoned with something that will cause them to need to use a restroom fast. That was done by Brains, who is portraying a salesman who is at Capitol Records to sell some high tech recording equipment to them at Capitol, and has some new products from the manufacturer he works for, is the plan.

Brains, the salesman, has to only be there, sound as if he knows what he talking about, make some timing happen by putting some poison into the coffee of the executives, while selling whiz-bang tech, the result is another whiz-bang in the restroom. That’s all he needs to do.

The poison thins out the people at the top floor, they get spread out into various restrooms all suffering from a belly ache, as Brains is dealing with the purchasing agent at Capitol Records, and has the attention from the top executives because the tech he says he has is awesome tech. That is the timing component he needs to do. Once the executives are isolated, they can be taken by special operatives from the emergency staged nearby on the Freeway. Meanwhile, there is some hint of the introduction of some women to come to to Capitol Records Building to do nitrous gas fogging while also serving as powerful distractive measures at the attack zone.

The goal is the top of the Capitol Records Building.

Basically, that’s the plan.

Some women, and some poison to make the executives need to use a restroom, as small sales team goes there for a planned meeting for discussion about new, high tech recording gear to sell to Capitol Records. With support outside at a fake car wreck on the freeway, nearby, to assist in whatever way is necessary, and also to divert traffic away from the Capitol Records Building attack zone. Some girls show up, maybe a British Rock Band members are there to do recording work, and all of the people at Capitol Records would have been fully distracted, each in their own special way, while the executives are hauled away and replaced with impostors, or some other way to proceed after the executives were removed.

At the end of the Thunderbird’s rescue, the mission is a success, as the Capsule with the astronauts is hoisted away. Those are executives at Capitol Records Building being hauled away in a Oxcart.

Maybe next episode we find out what the plan is for proceeding after the executives at Capitol Records, are taken.

=================================

===========================================

Meanwhile, at Thunderbird Volcano Island Command Global Field Offices, operatives are struggling to make sure that Lyndon B. Johnson is re-elected for a second time, which would have given a 10 year term of office had that part worked. That would have provided maximum power duration at the place of maximum global power.

========================

Abstract thought:

Think of US Democracy. The nation is like a game sort of, there are no opponents, but there are many challenges that must be overcome as time progresses.

Think of The White House, as the place where the Democracy Challenges is dealt with as they present themselves, Congress is part of the White House for this thought, so the President is the player of the Democracy Game against Challenges.

now, think of a Chess Board. The White Team is the White House. The Black Team is the Challenges, not an opponent. Most of the pieces are on the board, the game has been progressing for awhile, all pieces are very strategically located, neither team has advantage at that moment on the Democracy Chess Board. Delicate Balance exists there.

With all of the parts in their places, some asshole playing Risk shows up. He has some Chess parts from broken games in his game closet, and paints a new King.., the asshole had a green vs blue weird chess set, so, he paints the green on White. He sneaks over to the Democracy game, steals the real White King, puts the painted green one turned white on the board where the real one was at.

now, the Democracy Game still looks exactly the same way it did when the delicate balance between Democracy and Challenges existed.

The asshole is not interested in Democracy. He plays Risk.

The whole object of maintaining balance changes instantly, the Challenges are not met, they are helped to advance towards the White House Green King Painted White. Everything in between is wiped off of the Democracy Chess Board of Balance.

They have a new name, new packaging, new playing board, new object, new rules, all new... by Ron Popeil... as seen on TV.

no more Hasbro.

no more Milton Bradley

no more Mattel

no more Aurora Slot Cars....

now, all of the individual black & white tile squares become evident that they always have been far more important than we previously had thought about. We realize that the Knight, Bishop, Rook, King, Queen, and all of the Pawns all needed a place to stand on in order to play the game in the first place. We only have been thinking about the moving parts, not the foundation on which they stand.

only new Green/White Chess is available after that.

=======================================

5:27 pm:

Some connection to the Thunderbird’s Day of Disaster:

See that when Grandma comes in to Father’s office, looking for something, it’s easy to see “Granny” from Beverly Hillbillies, which first aired in 1962, the year before Jacqueline Onassis shot John Kennedy on a live parade, which is why LBJ became US President, which is why Jacquie shot John.... (this keeps going for ever with another shooter that shot the shooter that John, who Jacquie shot, and onward into the Russian Mother of all Hoaxes)

The Beverly Hillbillies will be shown to be the executives of Movie Studios and Television Studios of Hollywood, who were somehow roped in to present TV programs and movie screenplays that actually contain the very instructions of how those people who decided to produce and air such productions, will be hijacked, killed, replaced, later on, at some point after the Christian terror army watches TV and goes to the movie theater to see what their instructions are to take out the Beverly Hillbillies.

Clampet = C Lamp Pet = Holy See Lamp Pets = Holy See TV Pets = Christian terror family cells watching TV and Movies to get marching orders.

So, the targets expressed in Thunderbird’s episodes, are Whales of Hollywood, executive producers of entertainment... I think the White House and US Government is thought of by British Leadership and Royals, as Producers of Entertainment, so, the congressional members and virtually all of the US Elected Officials are seen as Entertainers, because of the way democracy is done by Popular Vote, which makes the elected officials, technically, famous celebrities, same as TV and Movie stars, and are popular that way. That idea seems to be a globally applied idea, where there has always been very little differentiating qualities between entertainers, and politicians, in the eyes of the British.

(do you agree that the term “Star” is a bit over the top, pompous, self indulging to use a job title?)

“Thunderbird’s Grandma” is “Granny from Beverly Hillbillies”,at least in Day of Disaster episode. There could be more to see in that idea if you look there.

==================================

This next connecting dot is more difficult to explain:

There is continuous theme presented in Thunderbird’s episodes, one that includes Chinese Artwork (ancient Chinese Secret... is not from China).

Look at the Psychiatrist Office Background information, there is a lot to see there, one thing is “Enormous Chinese Statue Man” there. “Big Statutory Power” is expressed with “Enormous Chinese Statue Man” at the psychiatrist office.

That is because he is not a psychiatrist, that is the Police Station, Rampart Division, the District Attorney’s Office perhaps. There, Brains (the salesman of Whiz-Bang Hi Tech [Hi-Fidelity Stereo]) is a witness to what went down at Capitol Records Building, is questioned by investigative persons associated with Rampart Division (the makers of the “fake Freeway crash distraction emergency road closure detour and Oxcart service” at the 405 San Diego Fwy out front of Capitol Records Building). The inclusion of “Ancient Chinese Secret” in the episodes seems to show associated Russian Mother Hoax of Lies Membership and is a place where “Airplane Vodka” (see explanation from last week here on this account, information about Airplane Vodka is difficult to obtain, so, learning is still in development about that) is available to club members (I think Airplane Vodka is almost the same as “Olive the Above”, is a snack at the bottom of the Queen‘s Martini, is a “Workable Bullshit Story”. So, “Airplane Vodka” from a place that serves “Ancient Chinese Secret” is also another lie that gets recorded into the “Master Russian Mother Hoax Library” [Google] for reference to it later on, so that the ongoing Bullshit can all be kept in a line that is easy to follow, with ingredients that are agreed upon by all “Russian Mother Hoax Club Members” [House of Lords].)

Ok, so Brains at the psychiatrist is really a witness, who is really an accomplice is at the District Attorney or equivalent, to help to come up with, or be advised of, the agreed upon “Bullshit Story” (refer to Twitter Verified Accounts for examples of “Bullshit Story”) so that everyone involved will have similar “Bullshit Story” that all matches, is the approved story after that, is mainstream.

The places in Thunderbird’s Episodes where “Enormous Chinese Statue Man“ can be seen, will show, after decode, where the “Fake Law Operatives of Global Terror” are at.

I am convinced that “Ancient Chinese Secret” has a large size representation at “Amp Guru”, and “Amp Guru” is the Music Industry as a whole.

now, back to Father’s Office. It’s determined after much argument that Father is the one who swallowed Grandma’s Microphone Transmitter. That’s when Female Variety Tin-Tin Kyrono comes in with “remedy” (Pepto-Bismal). Father says: “Ok... I’ll go quietly”. That part, is a place where you need a “Fast-Forward Button“ to push, in order to get from there, to Brains at the Psych Doctor. Father becomes Brains. That is part of “Ancient Chinese Secret”, characters are able to reincarnate in many mysterious ways because of “Ancient Chinese Secret Sauce” that exists in a “Fast Forward Button“ at “Amp Guru”.

Tin-Tin is some time Kyrano, and Kyrano is sometimes Tin-Tin, both are Chinese, used to work at Chinese Laundry, but were hijacked years ago, were tortured, are Unisex now, and they were forced to tell about “Ancient Chinese Secret” when the “One Hour Martinizing Crew” attacked them at Chinese Laundry.... it’s “One Hour Martinizing” now.

I think “One Hour Martinizing” is the same as Amp Guru, except is Movie Entertainment and TV Broadcast Network Version. So, that makes Kyrano the Movie Industry, and Tin-Tin is that hot chick at the Record Studio.

End complicated connectivity report: 6:42 pm.

===================================

One more thing: 6:45 pm:

All of this explanation is because of 1964 British Invasion with Meet the Beatles.

Is more than a Rock Show.

=====================

7:01 pm:

I have some speculation that fouls up much of my previous conclusions about Donald Trump, speculation based only on this Thunderbird’s Day of Disaster episode, and too much thinking about stuff I have no control over anyway, so, here you go:

Previous notion before ten minutes ago:

Donald Trump was pre-planned to work two terms, was found to be in secret alignment with German parts of Vatican, Pope Benedict remnants there, and in secret opposition with The Bergoglio, Pope Francis, and has been undermining the efforts of The Bergoglio (Google) Vatican.

now, maybe, it could be that he is #45 for a specific reason, a “One-Hit Wonder”, a “Hit Single”, there to do “Wolf Blitzer style Color Announcer at the Baseball Game, as the wire guided missal is directed into the window of the Baby Milk Factory by High Power Jet Airplane”. A “Surgical Strike, looks sloppy, is effective, comes with a B-Side, one that is not as popular as the Hit Single on the A side.

I have no further information to support that newly spotted possibility.

I am still at “Trump was spotted as a Benedict at the Vatican doing undermining work and was cut short of his second term”

However, there are some indicators of such a back up kind of plan idea present in the Day of Impact Thunderbird’s Episode, so, I wrote it down so I won’t forget.

This is a good place for a reminder that all of the Democrat Presidential Debates we saw presented in 2020 and 2019 were all presented in their exact same form in around 2008 on Beta Twitter. Same candidates, same videos, exactly the same with exception of the original air date having been 12 years earlier.

Time Warp Terror is almost impossible to see, when we all trust the date we are presented with, and discount our own memories of events.

It makes a person second guess what they already know is true, and I just second guessed what I already determined about Donald Trump’s second term that did not happen. All of what we are seeing is a slippery slope of strategically placed British oil.

Olive Oil: Virgin < Extra Virgin < Extra, Extra Virgin... Olive Oil.

By the time the Olives become Virgin, there is no oil left to squeeze from them.

Crewed Oil.

There is a Trump Card somewhere in this idea about the Olive Oil and Crewed Oil.

Like I said, it fouls up what I was thinking about to begin with about Donald Trump, so, tread lightly there.

====

Maybe there is a difference between Thunderbird’s episodes presented on YouTube by bobbj77 and VintageTV accounts. The two accounts are presenting the same episodes, with the titles written the same identical way, as if it’s the same persons playing two hands.... maybe they have some Special Ethel edited in there, when I want some 106 Octane Airplane Fuel.

Have to start over....

================

Google is like the “Big Fog Horn in the Sky”, it can hone in on any one particular IP Address, and make customized directional suggestions when you do a search at any of the Google Products, and the one at Twitter does not work at all...only brings up non-verified accounts for search of mainstream news headlines.

When I do YouTube search for Thunderbird’s episodes, it mostly directs me to bobbj77, only few VintageTV and there are some random results also, but those two seem to have posted many, maybe all of the series, have to have a closer look at the source of what I am decoding here.

I really don‘t see advantage to choosing VintageTV over bobbj77 or vice-verse, seems the same result to me judging by the name.

Also, the results for search are out of numeric order, I find that a little odd because of Google is sooooooo very advanced in their algorithms they would seem to know how to count by now, considering that when you write a email with Google G-Mail, the thing can almost write what you want to say all by itself, can conjugate a verb on the fly, and make contextual suggestions, but Google can‘t count on YouTube Search, how come? Why does Google YouTube Search direct me to bobbj77 way more than to VintageTV as a source for Thunderbird’s episodes?

Google does Custom Tailored Fog Horn Service on the High See’s for directing traffic at the Port.

===============

8:08 pm:

I suggest to persons who may want to research some of these ideas about Amp Guru and One Hour Martinizing to make a list of “What can be said about (each one)” in real life.

I am not going to do that here.

I’ll get you started:

One Hour Martinizing is out front, somewhere you can see it.

Amp Guru is in a industrial complex, or back room at music store.

You bring clothes to the Martinizer, who has some way of cleaning them without water.

You bring your electronic music gear to Amp Guru, he can do magic for Bias Adjustment, knows everything there is to know about electronic power circuits.

That is a start.

===========

8:39 pm:

Local Update:

Walk to the mailbox adventure. Is about 800 feet walk each way, depending on route I take.

I spoiled assassination attempt at the mailbox. There was bait there in the form of my mailbox was open a little, part way, nothing in there, and I closed it tight last night when I encountered assassin there last night, one I have not mentioned yet, could have been Clyde Baum of 333 Jackpine.

I spoiled the hit because tonight I brought wiz-bang high tech flashlight, is very bright, so, on approach to the mail box, I used that, and some noises in the woods could be heard there by the mailbox. I assume the terror bastard just was ducking for some cover is the sound I heard.

It’s very cold out there, thermometer says 27 degrees, feels colder.

There was the sound of Distant Emergency Vehicle Siren to the south, lasted two minutes, very faint and distant sound of siren on the move. “Trouble on Pleasant Valley Road” is the way that is interpreted.

Some other very brief use of flashlights happened on Russell road on my return walk, those are there at Sunflower terror cell to fool someone else, who will read this and think that was me over there on Russell.

I only used my flashight for one quick look around then put it away, to keep my hands free for fighting. I almost never use a flashlight, is very dangerous to use unless you are a terror soldier with a lot of terror cell members nearby. If you use the flashlight, they know exactly where you are at, and your hands are not available for fighting back when they come out of the shadows.

I stay in the middle of the country gravel roadway and driveway mostly. I don‘t want to, but I have to so that the local authority set-up won’t work when the say I was the one in the shadows.

There is still no visible activity or signs of life at Bell terror cell at 445 Jackpine.

Monroe Offensive Surveillance Travel Trailer is still the same condition as last night with a bright light inside and drapes open at the window above the trailer hitch, other lights are all off.

The Monroe’s are showing different habits, their usual things they do with a variety of special lights inside of chicken coups they have there is not happening as it has for that past year or so. There is big chicken coup, roosters and hens in there, the coup has many different kinds of lights on, switched off, changed as I walk by, various color, light intensity, many lights inside of a chicken coup, where they are used at night to light up chicken activities.... but are for some other thing that I don‘t know, it’s weird.

Other smaller chicken coup there is where the electronic surveillance equipment and recording devices can be seen in use by the Monroe’s and others from time to time when they huddle around there to listen to recordings of attack that took place at my house a few moments before I see them there gathered around the chicken coup. So, those things with the coups are not happening since the day I encountered the people putting a net at the end of my driveway, and had that sword fight there, last week some time.

That’s it, I did not pay attention to communication lights at Chartrand’s, was concerned about flashlights on Russell road instead.

===

9:29 pm:

Another quick look outside shows Chartrand’s conditions are the same as they were last night, some red Christmas lights on the front house, and two porch lights on the rear house are on as was last night.

I was wrong about the Russell Road flashlights, they were at Strong’s SAG House at 3747 Russell Road, there is vehicle activity there now, doing maneuver in the yard there as they do most times I go outside at night, some vehicle begins to drive around in the yard, then a shark comes down Jackpine is the way it usually is done, the Strong car is there to do back-up for the Shark car, which usually comes from where they wait out front of 315 Jackpine to run me over.

There is a newly installed yard light on a pole over on Russell road somewhere, looks to be just north of 3747 Russell Road, maybe it’s not new, but is not used often.

All of these small details are communication from one terror cell to another over a distance, been going on for twenty years.

9:42 pm:

Freeberg lighting communication is different tonight from last night.

Christmas lights that go around and on the ridge, and edges of the building make nice looking outline of the house at night, and that was sort of the vibe at Freeberg’s last night, Tonight, those kinds of perimeter lights are still there and are on, but has strange look, as if there are holes in the outline, parts of the perimeter outline are not there as they were last night, Considering that Freeberg is terror AirForce General, that is always some important communication no matter how they say it. One big helicopter did a low fly over today above my house at about 3:00 pm, and there were at least three other low and slow fly overs by fixed wing aircraft starting at about 2:30 pm. Freeberg’s are looking for the assassin that was at the mailbox last night. That one is dead. Might have been Clyde Baum, that would be good news if so.

10:05 pm:

Janice “Jay-Bob” Feeberg uses a special costume for terror attack, same as all of the local terror soldiers have special terror costume identity, each one is somehow unique, most use animal persona traits, Clyde Baum uses a Owl persona, and is also a Grizzly bear persona.

Janice Freeberg uses Grim Reaper persona costume, is the “Grim Freeberg” when she goes on terror attack in residential areas along with others such as Clyde in a Bear suit. They also have those Pixel Suits for more advanced attacking.

She looks just like that in her Grm Freeberg attack outfit. The only difference is that her sickle is home made with use of modified carpenters hand saw blade cut to shape and sharpened, attached to stick handle. Typically the attack she does is that she stands in the path where someone wants to walk, she slams the handle of the sickle into the ground while saying “Thou shall not pass”... hundred times at least she has done that to me on my driveway, on the road, in my woods, is there to say “Thou shall not pass” then swings that sickle. It’s sharper than you might think it is.

So, for reports of person wearing a robe with a long stick and has a triangle shaped thing on it (looks just like a baseball pennant shape), then, that is Janice “Jay-Bob” Freeberg. She does not work alone, if she is there, so are others in attack costume, and, she always has air support with airplanes and helicopters.

Real terror is not reported on the news. That is real terror. Been going on for twenty years here like that.

That is the only photo I have been able to get of Janice “Jay-Bob” Freeberg, terror Airforce General. Those are the mailboxes I talk about so often.

===============================

11:49 pm:

Take a ride in the Russian Mother of all Hoaxes for a minute, I have my Cracker Jack’s Decoder Ring, Way-Back Machine Attachment, and a Fractal Viewer here, not busy, it’s quiet... so... throw a dart into a history book, and viola! Starting place for Russian Hoax Maneuvers.

I am stuck at “ ... another shooter, that shot the shooter, that shot John, who was shot by Jacquie...”

So, from there...

There is a grassy knoll, a parade is going on, it’s all live on TV, there is a warehouse, and that is where I want to go... into that warehouse to see where that goes. It’s a book warehouse. There are books and a shooter there, parade is outside... now what...

Lots of people, the President is there, it’s America... on TV, and watching TV...

Amazon shows up on Decoder Ring Radar... they started out as a bookstore.

Amazon is also a jungle, a River, lots of diversity is there...

They have piranhas there. Pyramids shows up on Decoder Ring RADAR.

Stay with Amazon... they said they were going to buy 100,000 Renault delivery vans. That’s a lot of vans, never heard of so many vans being ordered before, is new.... Renew-zit shows up on Decoder Ring RADAR. So. that is already what I was thinking they were for anyway, to refill gas warrior gas tanks. I also have advantage here because I know that Clyde Baum has Renew-zit air fresheners at his house, are filled with nitrous gas, and are motion sensor operated from Renew-zit factory, sprays nitrous oxide at someone who walks by at Clyde Baum’s house.

Amazon, Renault, Renew-zit.... nitrous... parade (walk by is parade w/gas motion sensor activation)

Maybe the Amazon Renault Renew-zit vans are dual purpose, can be used for refill of gas warriors at nbc Universal Demonstration for Twitter news event terror taking, and, if just parked somewhere could release gas as people parade by, like at Clyde Baum’s house.

Jack-in-the-Box shows up on Decoder Ring RADAR.

British Canadian Terror ninja’s come out of the parked van that releases gas as people are walking by... parade. The shooter that shot the shooter has a sword now... takes the victims into the parked Amazon Van Mobile Renew-zit weapon.

It’s a COVID Test....

This is not going in a direction that is suitable to pursue further online.

I was expecting to arrive at the Queen‘s television, a black & white old one, with contrast knob cranked over to full contrast from the book warehouse, that did not happen... that other thing happened, and I don’t want to go there, so. that’s it for this adventure in Russian Mother of all Hoaxes.

==============

There has to be some reason that Amazon needs so many vans. and that the story about what the manufacturer of choice was had changed from Renault to some other unknown maker of Vans. Google it.

Amazon could be Russian Fractal Iteration of the Book Warehouse. If so, there will be other connecting dots in the Mother Hoax.

Don’t forget: Amazon was made into what it became by virtue of it’s connections to Google, when people searched Google for the products that wanted to buy, Amazon was there, in the search results, to say they offer the same thing you want for $5 less than any other retailer was selling the items. Then, when you ordered from Amazon, the product was sent from a competing retailer, but the billing was done by Amazon, who collected all of the money, and left out the retailer that sent the items.

I remember ordering from Amazon, and then getting phone call from the retailer who sent the items, to see what I had to say about the delivery, ask if I did receive what I ordered, and explained that they did not get paid for the items purchased, which when you really think about being in such a position on that phone call from the retailers perspective, that is not a productive approach, because essentially, they are sort of implying that the customer did not pay for what they were delivered, when all they really wanted was some information, anything that would help them figure out why the orders were going out, while all of the customers were insisting that they made the purchase from Amazon, and paid Amazon. I remember that happened, when the phone call came, and I knew that the shipping information indicated that the persons on the call had shipped the products, but the billing had already been done online, paid to Amazon, who provided the online ordering.

Confusion City is there in that Amazon billing, w/other competing retailer shipping, for takeover of US and other global retailers, by virtue of Google Magic Hokus Pokus.

“The shooter that shot the shooter that shot John”, is in that situation, except US retailers are John F. Kennedy on parade, and Amazon is the invisible shooter that shot him, while the magic bullet, is Google. That makes Jacquie Onassis, the Russian Hoax Hijack, the foundation on which the parade is riding, in that part of the Russian Mother of all Hoaxes Fractal View, it all does another iteration of that parade, sort of, with some adjustments made to the Russian Fractal Equation.

Can anyone else see what I see?

Google is the best of the best there could be for making such Fractal Iteration math work. They must have kidnapped all of the Rocket Scientists that were at nasa, rocketdyne, Kennedy Space Center... places where math is life or death math.

Google has to be taken offline, but we can‘t live without it.... “Too Big To Fail” shows up on Decoder Ring RADAR...

Have to start over...

================

12-23-2020: 1:07 am:

Back to Thunderbird’s Day of Disaster:

There is a place in the episode where Virgil carries a bunch of wreckage from the depths beneath the Holland Bridge, which collapsed from the concentrated weight of a great big rocket that was driving over it, slow.

There at that spot where the dumping happened, is a field with some rocks and grassy knolls.

I told you about Hope Town yesterday, I need to add the the place where Hope Town is at, is called “Simi Knolls” (Google Map might show it still, hurry before Mandela shows up). I think there might be other clues in Day of Disaster to make connection to Hope Town, and/or Simi Knolls. There was a store there called Village Market at the bottom of Santa Suzanna Pass, and a place where I used to get some ice cream was there right at the entrance to Hope Town, which was a motorcycle race track at the time. The Ice Cream store was also a hamburger stand, very small place, had a pointy roof, A-Frame cabin sort of building, blue & white stripes on it, so, those kinds of details might be in Day of Disaster, or other episodes.

A kids TV program from 1960′s called “Winchell Mahony Time” featured a barn, with puppets, the barn the show was modeled from was at the top of Kuener Drive, a real barn there about one mile and a half from Hope Town, and the Winchell’s Donuts I think is based in that part of Russian Hoax Fractal, and I already explained what is important to know about Winchell’s Donuts, designed as a place where Los Angeles Police could go, use a restroom, and the girls there were so friendly, Canadian Pope style. I watched the 118 Freeway as it was built from my front porch, the barn was there before, and after the freeway went in. There could be reference to “Tarantula Hill” in the Thunderbird’s episodes, that was right there too.

So, now, imagine that all of that junk Virgil put there (could have just moved it over and dumped it closer by, save time) in that field with grassy knolls and rocks (reminds me of Hope Town area) is all construction materials put there, for use at some other time in the future, to build something later (is symbolic building materials), means: “we looked at the real-estate, we like this place here, Simi Knolls, has a nice ring to it, JFK style ring” as orders to obtain the property that was Hope Town, “close to Rocketdyne, not too far from Hollywood, we can build a Freeway through there later on, call it the 118 Ronald Reagan Freeway, just add one more minute, and it’s 119 Freeway, all going in reverse direction”

(one more minute = one more generation)

(seconds = tiny revolution)

(minutes = small size revolution)

(hours = medium size revolution)

(days = normal, customary regular size crusade revolution)

Pirates say Aarrggghhh, so, R + Evolution = Pirate Evolution

(one more minute = one more generation)

(118 Freeway + one more generation = Freedom in emergency reverse = 119)

Terror math is not rocket science. It’s terror math.

I think that place is Hope Town. Hope is what remains when everything else is gone.

Trust me, you don‘t want any hope. They will give it to you for free... a bad trade. There are people who line up to by Hope.... fools.

To bob, is to cut off.

Bob Hope, is what happens when you are all loaded up with truckloads... boatloads of nothing but Hope... then, they cut you off, take the hope from you, that is what Bob Hope is for.

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madewithonerib · 4 years

Text

Who is the harlot mentioned in the book of Revelations? Answer: Dealing with Difficult Problems | RC Sproul (S3 - 20:31)

Today we’re going to consider one of the most serious difficulties that any of us has had to face in our Christian lives. The difficulty is one that is universal, & that has the power to be debilitating/paralyzing to our personal growth.

I’m speaking of course of the problem of guilt.

Now when Paul gives his exposition of the GOSPELS, in his epistle to the Romans, he talks about the universality of sinfulness.

And in CH 3, he makes this comment:

● Romans 3:19 | ¹⁹ Now we know that whatever the law says, it says to those who are under the law, so that every mouth may be silenced & the whole world held [may become guilty before] accountable to GOD.

²⁰ Therefore [by the deeds of the law] no one will be justified in HIS sight by works of the law. For [by] the law [is the knowledge of sin] merely brings awareness of sin. ²¹ But now, apart from the law, the righteousness of GOD has been revealed, as attested by the Law & the Prophets.

So Paul says whatever the law says, in a certain sense, we are ̲a̲l̲l̲ u̲n̲d̲e̲r̲ t̲h̲e̲ l̲̲a̲w̲ o̲f̲ G̲O̲D̲. So everything that the law says, it says to all of us.

What the law says to us is that:

When we stand before the judgment seat of GOD, every mouth will be quiet [every mouth will be stopped] because under the judgment of the law of GOD—the whole world is guilty. [3:11]

Now many times I’m engaged in intellectual discussions, with people, doing the task of apologetics.

Trying to answer their objections to the truth claims of Christianity, & I’ve noticed in such occasions when you answer one objection to the Christian faith [to their satisfaction], before they take a breath they’ll raise another objection.

And if you answer that objection to their satisfaction again, here comes a third one, & a forth one, and it gets to be almost an endless chasing of somebody around a circle. [3:48]

[Proverbs 26:4; Matthew 7:6, Proverbs 23:9, Proverbs 29:9]

● Proverbs 26:4 | ⁴ Do not answer a fool according to his folly, or you yourself will be like him.

● Matthew 7:6 | ⁶ Do not give dogs what is holy; do not throw your pearls before swine. If you do, they may trample them under their feet, & then turn & tear you to pieces.

● Proverbs 23:9 | ⁹ Do not speak to a fool, for he will despise the wisdom of your words.

● Proverbs 29:9 | ⁹ If a wise man goes to court with a fool, there will be raving & laughing with no resolution.

Frequently, in situations like that, what I’ll do is try to stop this game & look the person in the eye & say here’s my question to you:

What do you do with your guilt?

I don’t ask them: Do you have guilt? [4:15]

I assume that they have guilt, & that they know that they have guilt.

It’s an amazing thing to see people stop in their tracks, if you ask them a direct question like that. And begin to stutter & grope for for an answer. [4:35]

Because if there is any place where the unbeliever vulnerable & exposed it is at that point. Because if they seek to deny the reality of their guilt, they know that they are walking through this world with unresolved guilt. [4:56]

Problem: Unresolved Guilt

Several years ago I had a friend who was a psychiatrist, & very seriously he came to me in one occasion to ask me to come to work for him. And I said,

“You must be joking, I don’t know the first thing about psychiatry; & I’m certainly not qualified or capable to work in your office dealing with people who are in therapy.” [5:24]

And he says, “Oh but you are.”

And I said, “Why is that?”

Because the vast majority of the problems that I have to deal with as a psychiatrist are all bound up with guilt & it’s consequences.” [5:41]

Guilt that is paralyzing, & guilt when it’s unresolved.

Most of the people I see don’t need a psychiatrist, they need a priest.

They need to understand how to unlock this problem of guilt.

1.] Guilt is Objective

Well the first thing that I want us to understand about guilt is that guilt is objective. [6:07]

What I mean by that is that guilt has nothing to do, in the final analysis with our feelings or our subjective responses to situations.

Guilt ultimately is defined strictly in objective categories.

What I mean by that is this:

Guilt is incurred when the law of GOD is broken. [6:29-35]

We define sin as any want of conformity to, or transgression of a law of GOD.

And when we break the law of GOD, either by failing to do what the law requires, or actually doing what the law prohibits. At that moment we incur guilt.

And guilt is the breaking of the law of GOD, & GOD as our judge determines we have transgressed HIS commandments, & we come to a status of guilt. [7:14]

Now I mention this business of guilt being objective, because there’s so much confusion in our culture about the nature of guilt.

We tend to associate guilt with ‘guilt feelings’ so we need to distinguish guilt as objective, & guilt 'feelings’ which are subjective.

That is feelings about guilt have to do with our personal subjective attitudes & responses to actual violations of the law of GOD. [7:55]

When we talk about guilt being objective, we’re talking about it being defined strictly in terms of breaking the law.

And the first thing we have to understand about that is that the law that defines guilt, in the final analysis, is not the civil law & not the customs & social morays of a social order.

But moral guilt is defined by the breaking of GOD’s laws.

Now why is that so important to understand?

Well because human laws, the laws of our societies don’t always agree or correspond with the laws of GOD.

That is there are many things that the civil law may allow that GOD will not permit. When we break the civil law, we expose ourselves to arrest & to prosecution. [9:19]

And we may have to go to court, we hear the presentation of the evidence, & the jury or the judge renders a verdict & we’ll either be guilty or not guilty.

No one is going to use as a defense for their behaviour the statement that they don’t feel guilty.

Imagine if you’re charged with a crime in a civic court, & the judge reads the charge against you, & asks you how you plead?

And you say, “Not guilty” & you don’t have a defense attorney with you, so when the judge asks you why you don’t have a defense attorney, you say well I can prove that I’m not guilty..

Judge asks, “How can you prove that you’re not guilty?”

“Well your honour, I don’t feel guilty!” you proclaim, “so if I don’t feel guilty, then I must not be guilty.” [10:20]

What’s wrong with this picture?

That will hardly work as a defense in a criminal trial because our courts understand how you feel about what you have done has no bearing on whether you have actually have done it. [10:38]

The issue before the court is:

“Has this person done the crime which this person is charged?”

So the defense tries to argue that he is innocent of the charges, or even yes he’s done it, but he’s not responsible because he’s insane, or there are other extenuating circumstances.

He was coerced into it. Still those are all attempts to either deny or ameliorate to some degree the reality of the guilt.

And we know there are people in our culture who are psychopaths, or sociopath's. They can perform all kinds of heinous crimes without feeling guilty at all. [11:26]

But again it is the task of the courts to determine whether the law has been broken.

Now it’s also true that you may be sometimes obeying the law of GOD & in so doing disobeying the civil magistrate.

Conflict Between GOD’s & Man’s Law

In the eyes of the civil magistrate, you may be judged to be guilty whereas in the eyes of GOD you may be declared to be innocent.

We remember in the NT for example, when the authorities of the Jewish nation prohibited the apostles from preaching the GOSPEL.

And Peter asked the question:

“Should we obey GOD or men?”

And they said, “We cannot obey this civil magistrate because if we do we will incur guilt before GOD because HE has commanded us to do these things. [12:23]

And we remember when Stephen, invoked the anger of his enemies & in a kangaroo court he was suddenly found guilty.

● Revelation 17:1-2 | Then one of the seven angels with the

seven bowls came & told me, “Come, I will show you the punishment of the great prostitute, who sits on many waters.

The kings of the earth were sexually immoral with her, & those who dwell on the earth were intoxicated with the wine of her immorality.”

Today we encounter all kinds of confusion about the matter of guilt.

I remember meeting with a college coed, a senior in college.

In the 60′s when I was teaching on a university campus.

And this young lady asked to have an appointment for counselling & she came to me & she was very distressed.

And she explained she had recently been engaged, but she & her fiancée were involved in pre-marital activity.

She said to me, “I feel so guilty.”

I listened as she said, “I went to see the Chaplin of the school, & I explained to him how guilty I was feeling.

And he told me the reason I was feeling guilty was because I was a victim of an out-moded Victorian or Puritanical ethic —that had a tendency to oppress our sexual freedom & in our right to express ourselves as mature adults.

And so he counselled me to that end.

But professor Sproul, I still feel guilty!”

And I said, “Well you’re very fortunate.”

She said, “What do you mean fortunate?”

I said,

“It’s a wonderful thing when you feel guilty if you are guilty!

The problem is when we are guilty & don’t feel it.

The reason you feel guilty is not because of something the Puritans did, or because of the legacy of Queen Victoria.

The reason why you feel guilty is because you are guilty.

>> You have violated the law of GOD, by your own admission/testimony.”

And all of the attempts to psychoanalyze & rationalize this guilt away, fortunately for you, have not been effective.”

2.] Pain of Guilt

The pain of guilt is a marvelous, puritive thing.

Imagine what would happen to us, as human beings, if our physical bodies suddenly lost the capacity to feel pain [aka disease of leprosy]?

We would never be alerted to the presence of an invasive disease that could be life threatening.

As uncomfortable as the pain is, it is a warning sign (an alert to us) that something is wrong.

I said to her,

“You’re fortunate that you have at least have the capacity to feel guilty. Because the guilt feeling is one of the things that we have become masters of eliminating.

Think back in your own life: How you have dealt with guilt.

How if you commit a sin once, you may be overwhelmed with sickness in the pit of your stomach (sense of personal revulsion) because of what you have done.

You’re sick about it literally.

Because the weight of your guilt feelings is so enormous.

Then you do it again.

And the 2nd time, it’s not quite as uncomfortable.

Then you do it a 3rd time, & a 4th time, & a 5th time, a 6th time. And pretty soon you can cruise along in this behavioural pattern without any sense of guilt whatsoever.

>> You have acquired the status that Jeremiah described, when he spoke to the hard-heartedness of the people of Israel.

When he said to them,

“Because of their repeated transgressions of the law of GOD, you have acquired the forehead of the harlot!”

That is you have lost your ability to blush.

Revelation 17:3-4 | And the angel carried me away in the Spirit into a wilderness, where I saw a woman sitting on a scarlet beast that was covered with blasphemous names & had 7 heads & 10 horns.

And the woman was dressed in purple & scarlet, & adorned with gold & precious stones & pearls.

She held in her hand a golden cup full of abominations & the impurities of her sexual immorality.

>> You have become recalcitrant, you’ve become calloused.

So that now you can violate the law of GOD, & not think anything of it.

There is where the absence of guilty feeling becomes a license to continue to sin; & to sin with the assumption you can do so with impunity.

3.] Immorality/Debauchery/Desirous

You know we talk about the moral issues of our day.

I’ve been interviewed many times on radio shows & television shows, & particularly with respect to the most serious ethical issue of our day.

Mainly the issue of abortion.

And I’m asked by these radio hosts as a theologian what I think about it. I say, “I don’t have time to go into a full case against abortion on demand.

But I can give you the short answer,

“as a person who’s spent his whole life studying theology —there are things that I still don’t know. A lot of things I don’t know.”

I said,

“If there’s anything I know about GOD, it’s that GOD hates abortion.

That in GOD’s sight this is not a minor transgression.

But this is a gross & dreadful violation of the sanctity of life. There’s no doubt in my mind about that.”

>> What astonishes me is the cavalier way in which people in the modern culture can deal with these issues without any apparent sense of guilt.

BAD: Rationalize/Silence Guilt

And I wonder how that woman feels, who’s been encouraged to have an abortion; & everybody in that group says:

“It’s okay, it’s OK, it’s OKAY!”

The law permits it, & everything else..

And she has it (the abortion).

I can’t believe that the woman, under normal conditions, is completely free from the assault of her conscience.

I assume she has to know better!

Seared Conscience

1 Timothy 4:1-5 | ¹ Now the SPIRIT expressly states that in later times some will abandon the faith to follow deceitful spirits & the teachings of demons, ² influenced by the hypocrisy of liars, whose consciences are seared with a hot iron. ³ They will prohibit marriage & require abstinence from certain foods that GOD has created to be received with thanksgiving by those who believe & know the truth. ⁴ For every creation of GOD is good, & nothing that is received with thanksgiving should be rejected, ⁵ because it is sanctified by the WORD of GOD & prayer.

And yet for every sinful action there is, under heaven, somebody has brought forth a carefully crafted/rational defense for it.

In attempt to justify it (sin).

That’s why we have a problem with this conflict between desires & guilt feelings.

We can desensitize our consciences.

And remember: Conscience is crucial here.

Scripture speaks about conscience as that inner voice within us.

That voice that either accuses or excuses us—for the behavioural things we do; however, it wasn’t GOD who said let your conscience be your guide.

It was Jiminy Cricket.

We have to be careful about adhering to what I call Jiminy Cricket theology.

Now our conscience should be our guides in some things, that is, if our consciences are duly informed by the Word of GOD!

Then we ought to be following our conscience.

WARNING:

But the conscience, Scripture says, can be sheared.

It can be twisted.

It can be distorted; & the conscience can actually excuse us for the very thing that GOD accuses us of doing.

We think of David.

I can’t for the life of me imagine, that king David who elsewhere was defined & described as a man after GOD’s own heart.

Who wrote so many of the magnificent Psalms.

Here was a man, whose soul was a flame with passion for the things of GOD, & he got engaged in adultery.

Because of his involvement in that adultery, he then used the power of his political office to have his lover’s husband sent to the front lines—where conveniently he would be killed & removed as an obstacle for David’s desires,

so he could take Bathsheba to himself.

I can’t believe that David went through that process—without the pangs of guilt haunting him.

And yet even this one, who was so familiar with the law of GOD, managed to silence those internal voices.

So that when Nathan the prophet came to him, to confront his behaviour, & Nathan told the parable in order to get David’s attention.

David didn’t recognize himself in the parable.

And David expressed his outrage (his moral outrage) at the behaviour of the villain in the parable; saying:

Where is this man?! NOT in my kingdom will I tolerate that!

Until Nathan looked at David & said, “Thou art the man.”

Then the house of David collapsed on his head, because suddenly through the power of the HOLY SPIRIT, David was brought face to face with the reality of his guilt (sin).

And he was devastated.

Fortunately for David, there was still a sensitivity in his soul— to the things of GOD.

So that when GOD the HOLY SPIRIT touched him, with the conviction of his sins, now David restored a proper relationship between his guilt feelings & the reality of his guilt.

The objective & the subjective came together.

But for most of us, that’s rare.

We have all kinds of subjective techniques to hide our guilt.

To conceal our guilt, to deny our guilt. But we have to remember beloved, that guilt is real.

And it’s defined not by what we want, it’s not defined by what we feel. It’s not defined by what is legal in the state/country. It’s defined by the law of GOD.

...

recalcitrant: having an obstinately uncooperative attitude toward authority or discipline.

#harlot #book of Revelations #Revelation 17:3-4 #Jiminy Cricket #distorted conscience

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skepticraven · 7 years

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Does Trump have Narcissistic Personality Disorder?

In my opinion, yes, yes. A thousand times, yes. However I want to be clear about something before going any further. I am not a psychiatrist. This is entirely my opinion BUT there are a number of doctors who agree with me such as Harvard psychoanalyst Lance Dodes, psychiatrist Dr. Robert Jay Lifton; and professor of psychiatry at Johns Hopkins University Dr. John Gartner; and many more. I also don’t want anyone to be under the impression that because Donald Trump seems to be the world’s clearest cut case of NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder), that this somehow absolves him of responsibility for his actions. It doesn’t. He is not legally insane- even if his actions often seem irrational to most of us. Narcissistic Personality disorder is in the DSM–5 (a.k.a. the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders Fifth Edition) and it is technically a mental illness. HOWEVER, there is a significant and distinct difference between narcissistic personality disorder and other types of mental illnesses like Schizophrenia or Bipolar Disorder. First, let’s get a general definition of what personality disorders are and aren’t.

Psychology Today defines personality disorders as: “deeply ingrained ways of thinking and behaving that are inflexible and generally lead to impaired relationships with others.” Mental health professionals formally recognize 10 personality disorders that fall into three clusters. Cluster A includes the ddd or eccentric disorders. Cluster B includes the dramatic or erratic disorders. (Narcissistic Personality Disorder falls in Cluster B). And Cluster C which includes Anxious or fearful disorders.”

One might say that narcissistic personality disorder is essentially just an abnormal personality. Like with all personalities, biological factors as well as environment and early life experiences form who a person becomes. People with narcissistic personality disorder just possess personalities that are so outside the norm, and so problematic (for the individual and/or for society) that it has been identified as a mental disorder. With mental illnesses like Bipolar Disorder, the primary treatment is medication to treat that chemical imbalance. You could counsel someone with Bipolar Disorder to the ends of the earth, but unless you treat the imbalance with medication, you won’t get much of anywhere. In many cases, if the Bipolar patient find the right meds, it will generally control all or most symptoms. (It can be a struggle finding that right mix though since its essentially trial-and-error). With Narcissistic Personality Disorder, the primary treatment is psychotherapy. Occasionally meds can be used to treat underlying anxiety or depression but no pill can achieve a total 180 degree turn on personality traits that become ingrained over a person’s lifetime. You can’t re-route a narcissists worldview and patterns of interaction with a pill. That would take therapy. Unfortunately NPD has a low recovery rate because it takes someone who is truly willing to heed the perceptions of other people and someone who highly motivated to change narcissistic behaviors. As I go into some of the signs of NPD and how Trump displays them, you will begin to see why most narcissists lack the willingness and motivation to recover.

Symptoms:

1) People with NPD have an inflated sense of their own importance and so CLEARLY does Trump. For example, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, Donald Trump claimed he had the largest inauguration crowd in history. He also incorrectly claimed that he had and I quote, “the biggest electoral college win since Ronald Reagan." The reality is that almost every President since Ronald Reagan won more electoral college votes than Donald Trump.

2) People with NPD have a deep need for admiration. Trump went on a “thank you tour” after winning the election and has continued to campaign after inauguration. (See video: www.youtube.com/watch?v=iAQnXnQQCCI) Why is he doing these things? Trump wants, no needs, to be surrounded by his base who will scream and cheer and stroke his ego.

3) People with NPD lack of empathy for others. A good example of this would be when Trump belittled the parents of a deceased Muslim-American soldier (Captain Humayun Khan). Trump lacks the ability to imagine the pain of losing a child in service to this country. Its the same reason he made that “I prefer people who weren’t captured” remark about John McCain. He has no ability to empathize with someone who spent nearly six years in a North Vietnamese prison. Even if you disagree with someone politically, an empathetic person would still show respect and gratitude for American heroes. This next example speaks both Trump’s need for admiration and his lack of empathy: Trump’s strangely chipper attitude about Hurricane Harvey’s devastation. When speaking to some supporters at a firehouse in Corpus Christi, Trump just couldn’t help himself and he exclaimed, "What a crowd, what a turnout." And if anyone else made this next comment, I’d think nothing of it but since it was Trump? Houston, we have a problem. Trump said in tweets, “ HISTORIC rainfall in Houston, and all over Texas. Floods are unprecedented, and more rain coming... Going to a Cabinet Meeting at 11:00 A.M. on #Harvey. Even experts have said they've never seen one like this!.... Wow - Now experts are calling #Harvey a once in 500 year flood!.... Many people are now saying that this is the worst storm/hurricane they have ever seen.” See the problem is Trump is so transparent and I know where this was going before it went there. Of course Trump would ramble about this was the biggest and the best flood because everything with him is automatically the biggest, record breaking thing that ever happened and he is going to turn this around to talk about how awesome he and his team are. And he does exactly that, “ Great coordination between agencies at all levels of government. Continuing rains and flash floods are being dealt with. Thousands rescued..... Wonderful coordination between Federal, State and Local Governments in the Great State of Texas - TEAMWORK! Record setting rainfall. “ (；一_一) Harvey is just another episode of the Trump show. Everything somehow is about Trump and his sheer tremendousness at (fill in the blank).

4) People with NPD have a mask of ultra-confidence but behind the mask lies a fragile self-esteem that's vulnerable to the slightest criticism. For example, Trump sued Bill Maher over a joke. Maher got fed up with Trump constantly harping on the Obama birtherism nonsense, so Maher said Trump needs to prove that he isn’t the byproduct of his mother and orangutan. Then Trump threatened to sue The Onion (which in case you don’t know is probably the most famous satirical newspaper currently in print) which published a fake opinion piece pretending to be authored by Trump. It was titled, “When You’re Feeling Low, Just Remember I’ll Be Dead in About 15 or 20 Years.” Trump is the definition of a snowflake.

5) Narcissists are preoccupied with fantasies of success, power, or beauty. His obsession with success and power seem pretty clear. If you haven’t picked up on that, you have been living under a rock. His obsession with beauty is fascinating since its definitely not directed inwards. He seems immune to the reality of his own laughable appearance. However, Trump is obsessed surrounding himself with beautiful women. So obsessed that he keeps replacing his romantic partners will the younger model. Back when George Bush Sr. was President, Trump literally told Esquire magazine: "You know, it doesn't really matter what they (meaning the media) write, as long as you've got a young and beautiful piece of ass." And he isn’t just obsessed with his romantic partner’s level of attractiveness. Its everyone around him as well, including his daughters. When Tiffany was 2, Trump made this terrifyingly creepy comment “I think that she’s got a lot of Marla. She’s really a beautiful baby. She’s got Marla’s legs. We don’t know whether or not she’s got this part (referring to her chest) yet but time will tell.” He held his hands in front of his chest to represent breasts when he said that. During an interview with Howard Stern in 2003, Trump said this about his then 22-year-old daughter Ivanka: "You know who's one of the great beauties of the world, according to everybody? And I helped create her. Ivanka. My daughter, Ivanka. She's 6 feet tall, she's got the best body. She made a lot money as a model—a tremendous amount." Three years later on a separate visit to the Howard Stern Show, Trump referred to Ivanka as “voluptuous.” That same year on The View, Trump said this about Ivanka, “If Ivanka weren’t my daughter, perhaps I’d be dating her.” Honestly, who talks about their daughter like that? Trump has carried this vanity straight into the white house. He has often referred to members of his team as coming from "central casting." Its well know that Chris Christie’s weight had a lot to do with the fact that he was not offered a position in Trump’s cabinet.

6) People with NPD are entitled, meaning they believe themselves to be inherently deserving of privileges or special treatment. A good example of this Trump’s 5th military deferment for bone spurs. (He’d received 4 prior deferments for being in college. As tough as he talks, you’d think he’d be itching to go fight for his country). Trump had a perfect bill of health less than two years prior to these supposed bone spurs being used as an excuse to dodge the draft. That previous physical did not disqualify him for service as we can tell from his 1-A classification in July 1968. But this new physical that supposedly turned up bone spurs conveniently placed him squarely at the bottom of any call-up list, meaning he would only be drafted if there were some of complete and total military catastrophe. Funny, how those bone spurs didn’t impede Trump’s ability to play baseball, tennis and squash in college? He had only just recently graduated when he got the bone spurs deferment so there is weeks- maybe a couple months tops- in between his athletic college activities and this bone spur deferment. (；一_一) Politifact reports, “ Trump failed to mention his medical deferment when he told ABC News on July 19, 2015, that he was never drafted because the draft lottery went into effect and his birthday came with a high number.” Wrong. He got an extremely high number because of a medical deferment. Fun fact, only 5 percent of people with spurs have any pain at all. It would’ve been an extremely rare case to be debilitated by a spur at age 22.” And even more rare, to miraculously recover so quickly and completely- after the war ended of course- not that we ever saw any actually evidence of physical disability. Since people started bringing this up, Trump has magically remembered the bone spurs... sort of. Except, he couldn’t remember which foot or if it was both... Come on. Unless you are an idiot, you know Trump had his daddy pay of a doctor to make up an excuse to get him out of the draft. Then on top of, Trump has the audacity to say John McCain isn’t a war hero and insult the parents of a dead muslim-American soldier who did fight for this country. That ladies and gentleman, is called entitlement.

7) Narcissists takes advantage of others to reach his or her own goals. Trump has a long, long history of not paying contractors and other employees- lots of them. To quote USA Today, “ During the Atlantic City casino boom in the 1980s, Philadelphia cabinet-builder Edward Friel Jr. landed a contract to build the bases for slot machines, registration desks, bars and other cabinets at Harrah's at Trump Plaza. They finished their work in 1984 and submitted its final bill to the general contractor for the Trump Organization. Edward’s son, Paul, who was the firm’s accountant, still remembers the amount of that bill more than 30 years later: $83,600. The reason: the money never came. A USA TODAY NETWORK analysis found Trump has been involved in more than 3,500 lawsuits over the past 3 decades — and a large number of those involve ordinary Americans, like the Friels, who say Trump or his companies have refused to pay them. At least 60 lawsuits, not including the hundreds of liens, judgments, and other government filings who have accused Trump and his businesses of failing to pay them. Among them: a dishwasher in Florida. A glass company in New Jersey. A carpet company. A plumber. Painters. Forty-eight waiters. Dozens of bartenders and other hourly workers at his resorts and clubs, coast to coast. Real estate brokers who sold his properties. And, ironically, several law firms that once represented him in these suits and others.Trump’s companies have also been cited for 24 violations of the Fair Labor Standards Act since 2005 for failing to pay overtime or minimum wage, according to U.S. Department of Labor data. That includes 21 citations against the defunct Trump Plaza in Atlantic City and three against the also out-of-business Trump Mortgage LLC in New York. There were more than 200 mechanic’s liens — filed by contractors and employees against Trump, his companies or his properties claiming they were owed money for their work. The liens range from a $75,000 claim by a Plainview, N.Y. air conditioning and heating company to a $1 million claim from the president of a New York City real estate banking firm. “ If you’d like to read the full USA Today article: https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/politics/elections/2016/06/09/donald-trump-unpaid-bills-republican-president-laswuits/85297274/

8) Narcissists apologize extremely rarely and if they do apologize, it’s for self serving reasons, rather than out of remorse. About as close to an apology as Trump has gotten is after the Access Hollywood tapes leaked but it was half assed, at best. He mostly just deflected by bringing up Bill Clinton’s misdeeds and complaining about how long ago this conversation occurred. He tossed in an “I said it, I regret it. I pledge to be a better man tomorrow.” and then didn’t change his attitude towards women an iota. The Access Hollywood tape came out on October 7, 2016 and he issued that bullshit apology the same day. Then 5 days later, after Natasha Stoynoff came out to accuse Trump of doing exactly what he said he does in that video (also known as sexual assault), Trump responds by insinuating she isn’t attractive enough for him to bother assaulting her. Because all innocent people say that.... (See video of Trump’s “deeply remorseful” behavior: www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/donald-trump-sexual-assault_us_57ffc493e4b0162c043aa2a3

9) Narcissists often have unreasonable expectations of favorable treatment. For example, when Trump asked James Comey to pledge his loyalty, "lift the cloud" around him and his administration involving Russia, and essentially wanted Trump to let Flynn go. Same thing when Trump got upset at Jeff Sessions recusing himself in a situation he was ethically obligated to do so. Trump expects people to not do their job and not abide by the law and ethical guidelines- for him.

10) Many narcissists care little about rules and boundaries so they may engage in behaviors that others find morally objectionable. An example of Trump’s objectionable business decisions, was creating Trump University which engaged in a variety of illegal business practices, ranging from false claims to racketeering. Trump was obviously eventually sued for that, as he should be. The plaintiffs alleged that they paid up to $35,000 in tuition for very little in return. Trump has agreed to pay $25 million to settle lawsuits after claiming he’d never settle because he was “innocent.” The settlement includes a $1 million penalty paid to New York state for violating the state’s education laws by calling the program a “university” despite offering no degrees or traditional education. The worst part is, business settlements are fully tax deductible. An example of an objectionable personal choice was pardoning Sheriff Joe Arpaio, a man who violated the civil rights of Americans but having his officers actively target anyone who “looked hispanic” including people who hadn’t done so much as a a traffic violation which violates the equal protection clause of the constitution and the 4th amendment which protects against unreasonable search and seizure. Then Arpaio ignored a judge’s order to cease those violations. He also did things like, making male prisoners wear pink underwear and housing them in an outdoor tent city in the Arizona desert where it got so hot that the inmates’ shoes melted. Why did Trump do it? He’d say because Arpaio battled illegal immigration but the truth is, its because Arpaio stroked Trump’s ego by supporting him during the election. Due process goes out the window because he was nice to Trump. (；一_一)

This person is mentally unfit to lead. Trump has no business with his finger on the nuclear launch code.

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torontohypnotherapist · 6 years

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JUNE 2 — GEORGE GURDJIEFF QUOTES

HE SAID THE HORNS ON THE REINDEER ARE LIKE BEELZEBUB'S HORNS, REPRESENTING THE DEGREE OF ATTAINMENT

We went up to the caves [at Lascaux in France], reaching them with some difficulty. G's car would not take the slope, so he transferred to the Vauxhall and Mr. B drove him to the very entrance. M. Windels was there, and took us round. Ravidat and Marsal and the dogs—they all remembered us from last year.

Gurdjieff was evidently anxious to see the caves. It was lovely to be there with him—I remember him standing with his feet apart, leaning on his stick, with his head thrown back, looking up at the great stag with the stylized antlers in the first gallery. I was left at the end of the party to close the iron doors, but I sneaked up afterward and came close behind him to hear what he said. Even then I could not hear it all. He said that the composite animal is an emblem. "A symbol?" said Mr. B, and he replied, "No, an emblem like the Sphinx." He was much interested in it. He said the horns on the reindeer are like Beelzebub's horns, representing the degree of attainment. The curious trap drawings he said are "letters like the Chinese," and that each has a special meaning. He insisted that the paintings are only 8,000 years old, not as the experts say, 18 to 20 thousand. He insisted that this work was done after the loss of Atlantis. He also said that there must without fail be dolmens within five kilometers of the caves. If these dolmens could be found, he will study them and visit the caves again.

~ Elizabeth Mayall (future wife of JG Bennett) "Idiots in Paris" ...

YOUR PRAYER GOES NO FARTHER THAN YOUR ATMOSPHERE

Questioner: Can one be helped in work by prayer and how can one pray?

Gurdjieff: You can only pray with your three centers, and at the same time it is an exercise. What interests me is not your prayer, it is your concentration with your three centers. Your prayer goes no farther than your atmosphere. When your prayers can go as far as America, you will be able to pray to the President. Man has two substances in him, the substance of active elements of the physical body, and the substance made up of the active elements of astral matter. These two form a third substance by mixing. This mixed substance gathers in certain parts of a man and also forms an atmosphere around him, like the atmosphere surrounding a planet. Planetary atmospheres are continually gaining or losing substances because of other planets. Man is surrounded by other men, just as planets are surrounded by other planets. Within certain limits, when two atmospheres meet, and if the atmospheres are 'sympathetic,' a connection is made between them and lawful results occur. Something flows. The amount of atmosphere remains the same, but the quality changes.

Questioner: How can one pray with the three centers?

Gurdjieff: Now you must do a serious thing. Learn, for the sake of the future, to concentrate not only with one center but with the three. You must think, feel and sense. This is important. For this there are different exercises. You can pray, sing—anything you like—but with the three centers.

~ George Gurdjieff “Paris/Wartime Meetings” ...

WE ALWAYS FORGET. WE REMEMBER ONLY AFTERWARDS

“Self-observation is very difficult, but it can give much material. If you remember how you manifest yourself, how you react, how you feel, what you want—you may learn many things. Sometimes you may distinguish at once what is thought, what is feeling, what is body.

“Each part is under different influences; and if we free ourselves of one we become slaves of another. For example, I can be free in my mind, but I cannot change the emanations of my body—my body responds differently. A man sitting next to me affects me by his emanations. I know that I should be polite but I feel antipathy. Each center has its own spheres of emanations, and at times there is no escaping them. It is very good to combine this exercise of putting oneself in another's place with self-observation.

“But we always forget. We remember only afterwards. At the necessary moment our attention is occupied, for example, with the fact that we don't like the man and cannot help feeling it. But facts should not be forgotten, they should be recorded in the memory. The taste of an experience remains only for a time. Without attention, manifestations vanish. Things should be noted in the memory, otherwise you will forget. And what we want is not to forget. There are many things that are seldom repeated. Accidentally you see something, but if you don't commit it to memory you will forget and lose it. If you want "to know America" you must imprint it on your memory. Sitting in your room you will not see anything; you should observe in life. In your room you cannot develop the master. A man may be strong in a monastery, but weak in life, and we want strength for life. For instance, in a monastery, a man could be without food for a week, but in life he cannot be without food even for three hours. What then is the good of his exercises?”

~ George Gurdjieff “Views From the Real World” ...

HIS UTTER CONTEMPT FOR SOCIAL CONVENTIONS

“How can we think of Gurdjieff? As a musician? Choreographer? Writer? Physician? Psychiatrist? Master cook?

“‘The only absolutely free man, if such a man could be conceived of, would be the man in whom not a single gesture smacked of imitation.’

“Let me begin by describing his utter contempt for social conventions. He would have seated a Nobel prize winner next to a roadsweeper, a ‘lady’ next to a prostitute.

“This being so, or is all the more surprising that he could deal so harshly with one particular category of people who, after all, earn their living like anybody else, namely, journalists. He always kept them at bay and would not allow them to cross his door.

“One day I was present when the following scene took place. Two young men had had the nerve to force their way in and, presenting their press cards, declared that they were on the editorial staff of a well-known newspaper. Someone went to announce them to Mr Gurdjieff but, before they had even had time to take three steps into the hall, he appeared in person and chased them out as if they were vermin That he braved the power of the press on every occasion is one thing. But on top of that, when his pupils went to the trouble of bringing a world- famous personality to him, expecting such an encounter to result in some kind of mutual recognition at least, more often than not things would turn out contrary to their wishes. After a fairly good start the important holder of the Legion d'Honneur would suddenly feel himself in a situation which no longer tallied with his idea of himself. He would get out of his depth and go to pieces.”

~ Rene Zuber “Who Are You Monsieur Gurdjieff”

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austindailyglobe-blog · 6 years

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Man Has Rape Conviction Quashed After Relative Uncovers Facebook Posts

A man who spent more than two years in jail for a rape he did not commit had his conviction quashed after a relative took only a minute to uncover a series of bombshell Facebook messages – missed by police – that proved his innocence.

In the latest rape case to highlight failings in the criminal justice system, The Mail on Sunday can reveal that the jury at Danny Kay’s 2013 trial was only shown doctored transcripts of crucial Facebook chats between Mr Kay and his accuser.

In an exclusive interview with the MoS, Mr Kay said archived versions of the original messages – proving he had consensual sex with his accuser – were found by his sister-in-law, Sarah Maddison. When she showed the Facebook exchange to the officer in charge of the investigation, he said: ‘How did you know how to find the messages and we didn’t?’

Danny Kay, 26, spent more than two years in jail for a rape he did not commit had his conviction quashed after a relative took only a minute to uncover a series of bombshell Facebook messages – missed by police – that proved his innocence (pictured with sister-in-law Sarah Maddison)

By then, Mr Kay had spent three months in jail. It would be another three years before his conviction was overturned. The Appeal Court heard earlier this month that police relied on an ‘edited and misleading’ account of the Facebook conversation that was given to them by the complainant in the weeks after she claimed she was raped by Mr Kay.

Earlier this month, The Mail on Sunday reported that a rape case against student Liam Allan collapsed after it was revealed that police had withheld vital phone messages from his accuser.

Mr Kay, 26, said: ‘Even now, with the conviction quashed, I still can’t believe that it took years of pain and stress for this nightmare to end. And the terrifying thought is that if the police and justice system could fail me like this, it could happen to anyone.

‘Why didn’t the police check my Facebook account when they had my laptop and login details right from the start? Why did it take my sister-in-law to find the evidence? This isn’t some small matter, this is my life and for the police not to do those basic checks is horrendous.’

Mr Kay said he owed his liberty to a chance conversation with a fellow inmate, who convinced him the Facebook messages he thought were lost were recoverable.

Mr Kay asked Ms Maddison to log in to his account. ‘I couldn’t believe how easy it was to find the messages,’ she said. ‘I’ve just worked in admin all my life and am no social media expert. It only took me a minute to find them so how trained police couldn’t is beyond me.’

Earlier his month, The Mail on Sunday reported that a rape case against student Liam Allan collapsed after it was revealed that police had withheld vital phone messages from his accuser

While he waited for his appeal, Mr Kay remained locked up with sex offenders. He was also made to see a psychiatrist because he was judged to be ‘in denial’ because of his protestations of innocence.

At his trial at Derby Crown Court, Mr Kay’s accuser said there had been little contact between them after sex. The jury was given a misleading impression of a message reading ‘sorry’, which was construed as being about the alleged rape. In fact, it was a response to the woman asking him why he was ignoring her. Also omitted from the version presented to the jury was her response: ‘Dnt [sic] be.’

Another message suggested Mr Kay had lied about his age during their first Facebook conversation. He asks the girl how old she is, to which she replies: ‘Nearly 17.’ He then asks if she’s single and she replies ‘yep’.He says: ‘Same here.’ Yet in the messages shown to the jury, it appears his reply ‘Same here’ is a response to her revealing her age.

In an exclusive interview with the MoS, Mr Kay said archived versions of the original messages – proving he had consensual sex with his accuser – were found by his sister-in-law, Sarah Maddison

More damning are the numerous messages sent after the alleged rape that was deleted by his accuser. In one, Mr Kay asks for her number because he’d lost it. Not only does she readily supply it, she accompanies it with four kisses.

The accuser says: ‘im still here for ya!’ And in a separate message, after the pair had split up, she says: ‘I thought u would at least tried to get me back.’

When the new messages were shown to the Appeal Court, the judges ruled that the exchange undermined the woman’s account and supported Mr Kay’s version.

Mr Kay’s case has prompted calls for a national review of all rape investigations and comes after two trials in London collapsed when it emerged that police had failed to disclose crucial evidence that pointed to the defendants’ innocence.

Mr Kay, from Derby, was training to be a welder when he met his accuser in 2012. They had friends in common and initially had a conversation on Facebook. It began, innocuously enough, with Mr Kay sending a single-word message – ‘Hey’ – along with two kisses on February 1. Yet it set in motion a sequence of events that almost ruined his life. Mr Kay said: ‘She was very pretty and I really felt there was a connection there.’

The pair met in the Derby area and went for a walk. Two weeks later, they met again, this time at Mr Kay’s house, where they watched a film and later had sex. He characterises the relationship as a casual fling, which petered out almost as soon as it began. ‘She initially mentioned calling it a day because she was getting some messages off an ex-partner of mine and she didn’t want the hassle,’ Mr Kay said. ‘I agreed and she came back with the message about me at least fighting for her.’ He adds: ‘At the time we had sex, she seemed perfectly happy.’ By March 23, they had ceased communicating.

It was six months before his accuser filed a complaint to the police. In September, as he arrived back from a holiday in Spain with his new girlfriend and her family, Mr Kay was arrested at East Midlands airport. He said: ‘It was mortifying being taken away by the police right in front of my girlfriend and her family. At first, I thought there was a problem with something in my luggage but then he said I was being arrested on suspicion of rape.’

For 26 hours, Mr. Kay was held in custody and interrogated by officers. He refuted the rape allegations in the strongest terms.

The series of Facebook messages that proved Mr. Kay was innocent, found by his sister-in-law

From the outset, he insisted Facebook messages would demonstrate his innocence. He remained calm, believing common sense would prevail. Instead, he was charged and released on bail.

‘I had complete trust in the legal system at the time so thought I had nothing to worry about,’ said Mr. Kay. For the next year, buoyed by friends and family, he was convinced his innocence would be established in court. When the week-long trial began, the prosecution presented Facebook messages to the jury as evidence of Mr. Kay’s guilt. ‘My jaw dropped. I said to the prosecutor that there were other messages, that the conversations weren’t complete,’ he said. ‘But he got angrier and louder and kept saying, “I put it to you that you raped this girl and now you’re lying to this court.” ’

The Mail on Sunday has seen a witness statement from the officer leading the investigation, saying the messages were obtained by asking the accuser to log in to Facebook and print them off. ‘I made sure that no messages were missed,’ he said. At no point did the officer cross-reference the accuser’s version of the conversation with Mr. Kay’s archived messages.

Mr. Kay said: ‘Everything fell apart when I was found guilty. In that moment, I lost all faith in the system, and all hope.’ He spent his first few months at HMP Whatton in Nottinghamshire, Europe’s largest prison for adult male sex offenders.

‘Hearing some of the things people have been in for is pretty sick. Some of them are proud of being pedophiles and rapists,’ he said.

‘Looking back, I kick myself for trusting a system that betrayed me. I’d just like to know why it all happened. Why she lied. Why the police didn’t investigate properly. They’ve just taken her word for it. She might as well have written it on a piece of toilet paper and said, “There’s the conversation between us.” ’

Mr. Kay’s barrister Philip Rule, said: ‘This is an important victory for justice. This is the tip of an iceberg of failings brought about by chronic and long-term under-resourcing of the criminal justice system.’

Derbyshire Police said: ‘We will be reviewing our investigation to find out whether lessons can be learned.’

If you know someone who might like this, please click “Share!”

Man Has Rape Conviction Quashed After Relative Uncovers Facebook Posts was originally published on Austin Daily Globe

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wantedu · 7 years

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can the psychologist really determine whether "bipolar doesn't affect your thinking abilities" or "you're able to carry out daily activities" better than you can, srsly what the fuck

exactly. the “evaluation” was supposed to be an hour with the social security administration’s appointed psychologist. the session was 45 minutes at most, because he went late into his session with the client before me. as soon as i started answering his questions, to the best of my ability, he kept interrupting me and telling me to hurry. sometimes i talk very slowly because it’s hard for me to describe things related to my mental health. being rushed just makes it harder, and then i start stuttering because i’m anxious. it’s so hard to connect a thought with speech and i just shut down sometimes. he continued to rush me each time i began responding to his questions and as predicted, i started stuttering and fidgeting because he was making me so uncomfortable.

i don’t know how a person who interviewed me even only once can say that my anxiety doesn’t cause significant change in behavior. he was right there and he saw it. he kept ignoring me and cutting me off to make sure i was aware that his next client was more important. like the same exact way he did when he kept his previous client 15 minutes past the end of their appointment because they were more important?

the notes he made in the denial letter to show the “evidence” of me not being disabled were really insulting. i won’t go further into the contents of the notes because it’s a little bit too much personal information about my mental health and some comments about my physical health (that i don’t understand him commenting on, being a licensed psychologist, not a physician). they kind of blatantly say “in MY opinion, x symptom isn’t extreme enough to be considered disabling” and “in MY opinion, your chronic pain isn’t ENOUGH pain to be a disability” which is kind of problematic in MY opinion. the same thing happened for years when my mom was trying to find help for my mental health issues from the time i was 8 until i was in my mid teen years because the mental healthcare system is so fucked. especially the pediatric mental healthcare system.

in the mental health system there’s this weird mentality that a lot of professionals have that’s almost like, if you’re seeking preventative treatment, then you don’t NEED those services because there are people in crisis. when i was younger there were so many times when i needed those services to prevent crisis because i was able to recognize i was not okay, and because i hadn’t hurt myself or presented any urgent suicidal ideation, i was turned away. it happened so many times. there isn’t enough consistent care for mentally ill children, child psychologists and psychiatrists are often booked out for months in advance and by the time the appointment rolls around, it could already be too late. a lot of their appointments are also booked through hospitalizations, which get first priority. so in my experience, if you’re not trying to hurt or kill yourself, you don’t get the help you need. and often, the treatment you receive is not tailored to your specific needs, so not much gets solved. you get misdiagnosed and put on the wrong medications. you get thrown in the wrong kind of special ed programs in school. the first doctor i ever saw as a child said my symptoms fit bipolar disorder to a t, but told my parents that 8 years old was too young to diagnose. for the next ten years i was put on the wrong medications, given several wrong diagnoses, was given the wrong treatment, forced through 7 different school programs in 5 years that made it impossible for me to attend because of my anxiety, was been hospitalized 9 times, and eventually forced to drop out of high school because no school had the resources to help me and wouldn’t transfer my credits from the schools i’d previously attended. i’ve fallen through every crack there was to fall through.

i was hospitalized 13 days after my 18th birthday. the doctor asked me if i’d ever heard of bipolar disorder and i just laughed, like really? now? after i’m 18. i was hospitalized for a month and while i was there the psychologist who diagnosed me told me that he has patients that he diagnosed when they were five and six years old who are adults now that have been medicated for their bipolar and have never been hospitalized or had any complications. why did i get all the shitty doctors that said i was too young, from the time i was 8, to 16, 17, but literally DAYS after i turned 18 and had a 7 day manic episode followed by a severe depressive episode that almost killed me, i’m diagnosed IN THE EMERGENCY ROOM.

the notes on the report are kind of like that. like saying “you’re not disabled enough” when i’ve had to deal with my bipolar plus the other mental health diagnoses and my physical health problems my whole life. they clearly affect my thinking, behavior, and the way i go about my day.

because i’m applying as an adult, they could only access my medical records from the past 20 months to review - the time it’s been since i turned 18 - for some reason they only reviewed 5 different reports. out of hundreds of trips to the doctor and therapist, FIVE. three of which were from my endocrine doctor that i see four times a year for diabetes related care. my diabetes wasn’t something i filed for ssi for in the first place because i’m not suffering from complications since it’s well controlled. one report was from the last therapist i had, and the other was from my psychiatrist who has been really weird lately (like.....calling my mom to confirm appointments since she’s the one who drives me, forgetting my name and forgetting what prescriptions SHE prescribed me....weird shit). i don’t like it and i don’t want to see her again and i’m sure she didn’t provide anything that was beneficial for me.

nothing from my two back to back month long hospital stays in 2016. nothing about the treatment programs i was in. nothing about my physical therapy appointments from last year. they didn’t review all the information they could have looked at, and it took them four months to decide that i’m not eligible for ssi based on five pieces of (mostly) outdated and irrelevant information. nice. “we have determined that your condition is not severe enough to keep you from working. we considered the medical and other information...” did you? lmao.

of course i’m appealing it but you know. i’m not one to scream and shout about ableism but if this aint it i don’t know what is

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