#I don't know why I identify with someone suffering from addiction so much

[dirty-fucking-pirate]

When you look at my face, does it seem just as ugly to you? I can't seem to erase all the scars that I have lived with from you. I'm so sick of this place. This taste in my mouth. Cause of you I can't figure what I'm all about. And I'm left here with nothing. Nothing to live for.

#Staind #lyrics #Excess Baggage #early Staind really touches home for me #I don't know why I identify with someone suffering from addiction so much

[kanelia]

why exactly is someone with a "medical condition" more valid as a trans person than someone who just "took up the identity"? both involve magical thinking. all the "not like other trans people" types can accuse others of being nothing but trend hoppers and pretend they are the real deal because they suffer from body dysmorphia, but in the end they are just as, or honestly if not even more, delusional than all the so called transtrenders. the trenders are completely straightfoward with what they believe in. anyone who identifies s a woman is one. that's it. is it stupid? yes, but it does follow it's own inner logic. meanwhile true trans types have to go through all kinds of mental gymnastics to explain themselves why their identity somehow is more real than the bearded autogynephile's. their body dysmorphia should be treated with hormones and surgeries instead of therapy? alright, why aren't we treating people with eating disorders the same way, hormones do cause negative health complications so why would it be any less moral to give an anorexic a liposuction? brain sex? doesn't a woman having so called male brain itself prove that there is no brain sex if both types of brains can exist in both types of bodies? some guy can feel exact same pain and suffering from really really really wanting to be a cute little anime girl than some "real" trans woman with "real" dysphoria. i would respect true trans types more if they just admitted they are nothing but extreme body modders and no different from the people who tattoo themselves into tigers or something. their identity isn't actually any more special than the tattooed lizard guy's or nonbinary unicorn glitter genderer's.

Why is someone with an actual medical condition more valid than someone who just made it up? Why is someone with an actually broken leg more valid in their pain than someone who fakes a limp for attention and compassion?

But I do not really think "valid" is really the right word. A male with genuine gender dysphoria claiming to be a woman is not any more of a woman than a porn-addicted autogynephile is. However, if anything he is more a trans person than the autogynephile is. If gender dysphoria does not determine being trans, trans has no meaning (pretty much what has happened). Having your healthy body to cause you such a great distress that you want to remove your body parts is definetely not normal, but there is still a difference between that and a desire to use plastic surgery to become a sexist charicature.

Is it still ridiculous and offensive if a man even with genuine gender dysphoria claims that he can have periods? Is is still ridiculous and offensive if a heterosexual man or a woman with genuine gender dysphoria claims to be a lesbian or a gay man? Of course.

I don't think people with gender dysphoria have to necessarily subscribe to the "magical thinking". Some probably do, but the ones I know do not think you can actually be born in the wrong body or that they actually have misplaced gendered souls. Neither they think that transition actually made them the opposite sex.

I would not call trenders "completely straightforward" either. They lie about their dysphoria and use it as an excuse to manipulate and guilt-trip others when you can see a mile away they do not have the said condition. Tims constantly demand access to places meant for women because not validating their identity is "literal violence". Even people who claim non-binary identity, which does not make any sense and is just utter nonsense in itself, still say they are being abused and made to feel "dysphoric" if someone refuses to use their made up pronouns.

Yes. "Brain sex" is long debunked. There is no typical 'man' or 'woman' brain and no significant differences between them.

https://www.fastcompany.com/90630371/brain-sex-isnt-a-thing-the-latest-research-debunks-the-myth-again

Gender dysphoria was not originally treated by giving hormones and surgeries right away. At least not where I am from. The main treatment used to be therapy. Only a small percentage of patients continued to hormones and surgeries and even then the process was carefully monitored. (Probably, the reason why the regret % used to be so low.) If I remember right from Time to Think as many as 60 to 80% of minors grew out of gender dysphoria with therapy. That anyone can get access to hormones and surgery (even minors) after one doctor visit is a relatively new thing and the result of trans pressure groups framing anything but blind affirmation as abuse.

Would I recommend anyone to transition? No. It is pseudo-science at best. You can not ignore that most of the even genuinely dysphoric people tend to have some sort of trauma related to their sex even if it is just getting bullied at school for being gender non-conforming child. Also, like you said, it comes with too many negative health effects. Ideal would be if gender dysphoria could be treated without having to cause damage to the body.

However, some people seem to genuinely think transition was the best option for them even with all the side effects. It is very difficult to argue against that as long as they have actually 1) been adults, 2) have no other serious mental health condition and 3) been fully informed about the short and long term negative health effects, and that transition does not actually change their sex and is not reversible.

Although, I must say, the majority of them are still young and probably have not been hit with the long-term side effects yet. It will be interesting to see if their minds change with time.

#radblr #gender critical #trans #anon ask

[ed-recovery-affirmations]

I'm in my forties and have struggled with my ed for as long as I can remember. I thought I would be miraculously healed by this age but at this point I think it's for forever now.

Now this is going to sound weird/bad I don't know but I think I feel better when I'm suffering - like it's my comfort zone. When I have a good day, I feel guilty over it so like why try? Do you know what I mean? I don't feel guilty over bad days so then I feel good about it.

Do you have any words of wisdom or advice on how to overcome these feelings?

So first of all, I don't think you're alone in this. While most information about eating disorders educates in reference to teens, teens are not the only ones who can have eating disorders. And teens who do develop eating disorders become adults. Since an eating disorder has a major impact on the affected person's life, it doesn't just go away without consistent healing work. This is especially true when the pattern of disordered thoughts is co-existent with a lifelong mental illness, which can be treated and managed but, in most cases, not cured.

Additionally, I think EDs in adulthood often present differently than EDs in teens. For example, the "almond mom" who imposes her starvation diet on her family or the fat lady you know from church who is constantly moving from crash diet to crash diet or the "gym bro" who is putting himself in active ketosis - none of these people are displaying a healthy relationship with food. They're just expressing disordered eating patterns in ways that are on trend, and that aren't as recognizable as the EDs that commonly present first in teenagers. Our society markets dieting and "wellness" products so aggressively, it is actually very hard to maintain a healthy relationship with food!

I don't think you're doomed to be where you are forever, though I will say that, much like a recovering drug addict must always treat their addiction to stay in good health, someone who once had an eating disorder may have to remain proactive about their healing journey for the duration of their life to avoid ED relapse. It's definitely something that sticks with you. I also think that a lot of healing doesn't take place without you actively engaging in healing work, so perhaps you could start researching different types of therapy, different healing practices, or just see what you need to do to get to know yourself better and direct your healing where it needs to be?

I understand what you mean about feeling better when suffering. It's comforting to be pessimistic and romanticize the spiral, because being self-destructive is much, much easier than actively working to heal. Admitting you're working on healing means facing the frustration of occasionally backsliding or failing, which can feel much more all-encompassing than it truly is. (Nobody is successful 100% of the time!) Hope and happiness are precious things that can be lost, so sometimes it feels safer not to have them in the first place. But I'd suggest you make efforts to remind yourself that this is unsustainable, and that you will not just accidentally blunder into health and happiness. It has to be built. Additionally, try really hard to believe in yourself and believe that you are worthy of a life beyond the suffering of an eating disorder. It may become hard to believe at first, but you have to keep acting on it as though you believe it in order to produce positive health outcomes for yourself.

I'd try to sit with the guilt you feel on your good days. Try to identify and unpack it when you feel it. Do you feel guilty for eating? For not restricting? It's important to unpack why you feel you deserve to live like that. If you can access therapy, perhaps a qualified therapist can help you learn to restructure your thinking process.

#ed recovery #advice

[one-sad-human]

•Worth It• Duff Mckagan

Pairing: Velvet Revolver era! Duff Mckagan x Younger! Reader

Requested? Nope!

Theme: Little bit of everything/???

Warnings: Language, panic attacks, anxiety references, drug references

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Fic 2 of 2! This is the longest fic yet! Took a different approach to writing this one, hopefully it payed off. Let me know if you guys liked it or if I wasted my time with this one lol.

     You had met Duff in a coffee shop in LA. It was crowded and you were lucky enough to snag a chair before the lunch rush. Duff wasn't, and asked you if he could sit at your table.

     You grew up with Guns n Roses, bought his solo album the day it came out when you were just 15, and now listened to Velvet Revolver faithfully. To see your idol, your celebrity crush stand right in front of you holding a cup of coffee and a scone sent you for a loop.

     "Of course," you had said, starry eyed. You were only hoping he was as kind as the interviews made him out to be. Maybe have a conversation with you and be polite for a while before leaving and never seeing each you again. That would be good enough.

     It didn't end with a coffee, it had just begun. He asked for your number, and you stared at him for a moment thinking you had imagined it. That was until he tilted his head a little and looked at you with a nervous expression. He backtracked and you immediately stopped him.

     "No! I mean— yes! Yes, you can absolutely have my number." You scrambled for a pen and paper and ended up scratching your number on a receipt from the record store. You shook so hard you could barely get the numbers down.

     Out of all the record store receipts you've stuffed into your bag, the one you gave Duff Mckagan had to be the one for when you bought Velvet Revolver's 'Contraband.' He didn't say anything, just smiled and promised to call.

     You honestly didn't think he would've. You played it off as just him trying to be nice. It didn't stop you from answering every call you got for the next three days, however, even if you recognized the number as the tax collector you'd normally never answer.

     But then he called.

     "I tried calling sooner, but I kept calling the wrong number. You don't have the most eligible handwriting," he had told you. You laughed but really, you were in shock.

     You set up a date at the fancy restaurant downtown that always intimidated you. You didn't say anything though, even though you knew you wouldn't want any of the overpriced food and you'd end up eating something you couldn't pronounce and was two portions too small. Maybe even hit up a fast food joint afterwards.

     When the day finally came, you couldn't even figure out what to wear. You couldn't tell if you looked underdressed or like you were trying too hard. Did the clothes even fit the right way? What would Duff think? Would he even care?

     All questions were answered when you left your house. Duff was leaning against his slick car parked in your driveway, a button up that was barely buttoned and dress pants with boots. He stared at you and you wanted a hole in the ground to shallow you up until he smiles.

     "You look gorgeous," he said. You blushed and grinned, thanking him before saying that he looked great too. He drove you to the restaurant and on the way, you talked about music.

     You shared some of your favorites, he adored how well rounded you were. You liked pretty much everything from punk rock to the mellowest of mellow. Duff mentioned some of his favorites, some you made sure to remember the names of so you can check them out.

     When the ride was over and you finally got to the restaurant, your previous fears came back. Duff reassured you looked better than 90% of the people there and you knew it wasn't true but it made you feel better anyway.

     Your eyes widened to the size of saucers when you saw the prices of the food. You knew it'd be pricey but you thought there'd be more options that stayed within two digit numbers.

     Duff saw your panicked expression and said not to worry, he'd pay. It didn't settle your nerves enough and when the waiter came, you ordered the cheapest and simplest thing you could find.

     "Chicken noodle soup?" He teased. You shyly looked down and shrugged. "This isn't your scene, is it?"

     "Not exactly, no."

     "Want me to be completely honest with you?" You nodded. "It's not mine either."

     That's all it took for you and Duff to scramble sheepishly out of the restaurant. You both shared a laugh in the car and went to Burger King. It was much more your speed and, as you'd find out that night, Duff's too. You suppose all the money he's had since such a young age didn't completely change his ways. He was like a kid trapped in a 40 year old man's body.

     You'd thought at first the age gap would feel strange, after all, you were 15 years younger than him. But after that night, it was barely noticeable. Funny looks from strangers every once in a while was nothing.

     By the second date, Duff was already aware fancy spots weren't your forte. He told you it was a surprise and to wear something cozy, as LA nights got chilly.

     He packed a picnic basket and drove you out to the most beautiful flower field you had ever seen at sunset. It was secluded and high up, giving a perfect view of the city skyline. After gawking and taking in the sights for a few moments, you regained your ability to speak.

     "It's gorgeous. Pretty far from the city, did you take me here to kill me?" You joked. He laughed and rolled his eyes. His lighthearted laugh sent sparks straight to your heart, and you decided that it was your favorite sound.

     You unfolded the blanket Duff brought and you both sat down. You ate the sandwiches and sliced fruit Duff packed and talked. You talked about everything, from your family to fears and insecurities.

You told him how you suffer from nightmares. Flashbacks from your broken childhood coming back to bite you in your sleep. Duff shared how he's suffered from panic attacks since he was a teenager. You felt you knew each other for years.

Neither of you felt weird for sharing and neither made the other insecure. You were completely open and honest with each other. It was strange, you've never connected to quickly and effortlessly with someone before. Sure, you've had men in your life, but never had you clicked with someone so fast, never had you fit with someone so perfectly.

Hours passed and it felt like minutes. Only did you realize how late and how exhausted you were when you saw most of the city buildings light have gone off for the night. The city that didn't sleep was dark.

"I should get you home," Duff said to you.

"Will you stay the night?" You felt a little silly for asking. Were things going too fast? Would he even want to stay over?

He agreed, and that's how your first night together went. You both stayed up even later and had more lighthearted conversations, unlike the ones that partook at the field. Like how one of Duff's first jobs was at a bakery and could bake a mean cake and how you can't cook to save your life.

You ended up waking up without remembering falling asleep. You're head was placed comfortably on Duff's lap while his head was lolled back against the couch cushion. He looked so serene and peaceful you couldn't help but smile at the sight.

You made toast and somewhat successfully cooked some eggs and bacon. It might have been the first breakfast in years that didn't end with the smoke alarm going off.

Duff eventually wandered into the kitchen and you both ate. By the time he left, another date was already set up. He was like a drug an you were already hooked.

Months later and the addiction still wasn't kicked. You didn't want to, and Duff didn't seem to want you to quit either. You both soaked each other up like the sun on a warm day.

You had almost weekly dates and you stayed over each other's houses almost every other day. Duff did have his kids some days, though, so some days dates were cut short or Grace and Mae slept over his house and you wouldn't see each other.

You were always understanding, his kids came first and you'd never blame or get upset about it. It's something Duff admires about you, your never ending understanding and empathy for him.

One of those days where Duff stayed over at your house started normal. He cooked dinner and you washed the dishes, and then you put on an old Ramones concert you had on DVD.

You were laying on his chest, his fingers running through your hair when all of a sudden, he tensed up. He quickly stood and excused himself to the bathroom. You frowned but before you could think much of it, you heard a loud bang and something clatter to the ground.

You jumped up and rushed to the bathroom. You swung open the door because you were perfectly aware the lock hasn't worked since you moved in.

Duff was sitting on the floor, a pill bottle laying on its side not far from him. You quickly spot the name of the medication and identified it as your anti-anxiety pills. You shoved them aside and sat next to Duff.

He was sweating bullets and his skin felt cold and clammy, his breaths were labored and heartbeat was loud and pounding erratically. You coax him gently to take deep breaths, holding onto his hand tightly and talking quietly.

"I'm sorry, they come on randomly sometimes," he apologized after he'd called down, but you quickly shushed him. You reminded him of just how many nightmares he'd comforted you for and he stops feeling so bad about it.

     It was always a true partnership with Duff. Never had you felt you gave or took too much, it was always equal. Always a two way street, with everything.

That wasn't the last panic attack you had to help him come down from. Later down the line you've gotten better at calming him down and learning his triggers, even though sometimes they really do come on suddenly without reason.

A year into the relationship was when you met Grace and Mae. They were young and didn't completely understand why their parents weren't together anymore, so it took them a while to warm up to you. Luckily, they eventually came around.

Duff and Susan met up regularly to discuss their kids and co-parent properly. And while you had all the reason to be jealous of your boyfriend with his ex wife, you never did. You had complete confidence in him, he was honest and loyal and you doubted he'd ever hurt you purposely.

That's why it destroyed you when he left you. Tears were shed from both parties as he gave his reasons for breaking up with you. His insecurities he tried his best to bury had come to light and nothing could change his mind.

You thought you were completely honest with each other, but you suppose his doubt in his relationship with you was the one thing he kept secret. He had somehow convinced himself you'd be better without him, between the constant touring and the baggage that came with him and his kids, he finally buckled under the weight and stress.

You had tried to convince him that he was worth it, but if Duff is one thing it's stubborn. The best relationship you'd ever have and the best year of your life went down the drain within the matter of one conversation.

You were down in the dumps for days. You barely left your bed and didn't ever leave your house. You were in a depression and couldn't get out. A few of your friends eventually found out what had happened and broke into your house and shoved you into the shower before taking you to your favorite Chinese restaurant.

You felt like a disaster. Your hair was ratted despite the shower and you refused to put real clothes on, instead wearing sweatpants and a shirt Duff had left behind. You were a mess.

The hole in the wall restaurant was never busy but always had the best food. You were almost happy your friends dragged you out of your home until you saw Duff sitting at a table, eating egg rolls and lo mein.

You've came here together all the time. The high sodium in the food always made him sick to his stomach and you'd always end up giving him nausea remedies and tea. He never changed his order though.

You locked eyes with him for a while. Dark bags were under his eyes and he looked more pale than usual. He looked as terrible as you felt. You weren't sure if you were spitefully glad he felt awful or if the despair on his face just made your heart break further.

When you couldn't take his intense jade stare anymore, you looked up at the menu. The next time you looked back he was gone, you weren't sure if he was really there at all or if you were finally losing your mind for good.

     Another week crawled by. You got better enough to continue working. You had to pick up extra time for calling out for a few days after the breakup. You wouldn't say things were going well, but you weren't crying in bed every day all day anymore.

     You had constant dreams about him. Some were nice, ones where he didn't leave and you were together, holding each other tightly. Most were nightmares, flashbacks of when he left. You didn't have him to comfort you anymore when you woke up soaked in sweat and tears, and that might've been the worst.

     Another week went by, and you were starting to get back into the swing of things. You still thought about him, even silly little things reminded you of him. Like when you would catch a sniff of freshly baked sweets like he'd bake you or certain songs playing on the radio. It also didn't help that you ran into people wearing Guns n Roses shirts on the daily.

     You also refused to get rid of anything he'd left behind. Tee shirts, guitar picks he left from when he'd play for you, or CDs from bands he introduced you to. Reminders of what you lost were scattered around your home but you couldn't bring yourself to do anything about it.

     Suddenly, it's been a month. You weren't over him, but you had a feeling you'd never be completely. He was something special, you can't forget things as special as your relationship with Duff.

     His items still weren't thrown out or returned, instead all packed in a box sitting in your closet. But you'd be lying if you said you would never reach into the box to grab a shirt to sleep in or a CD to listen to when you needed a reminder of the good times. You were making progress though.

     You decided to leave your house one evening. You were feeling especially terrible and wanted to take a walk to clear your head. You went to the coffee shop you had first met Duff in. Maybe it was a mistake to go and get a flood of memories but you couldn't stop yourself.

     You sat in a seat near the window and people watched, taking occasional sips of your drink. It was quiet except from the talk of the workers and the hum of the overhead speakers.

     There was a sudden squeak of a chair of hardwood floors and it broke you out of your daze. You snapped your gaze up to meet the very familiar green eyes you've been trying to forget.

     "Can we talk?" He asked, and you couldn't say 'no.' Duff sat across from you and started off by apologizing.

     He said he wanted to talk to you sooner, but was too afraid you wouldn't want anything to do with him. You rolled your eyes at that, if only he knew just how much you missed him.

     He then started from the beginning and explained why he made the decision to leave you. As it turns out, it was mostly because of stress. His bandmate Scott was having problems with drugs and the flashbacks from his GnR days frightened him. He was worried he would end up relapsing and he didn't want to drag you down with him.

     Combine that with all the troubles that came with dating a single father, and he couldn't take it anymore. He felt too guilty.

     It all seemed like ridiculous reasons to you. Even if he had made the mistake of falling off the wagon, you still would've stuck with him. And you didn't mind his kids at all, after nearly a year of knowing them and you were very close to them.

     "I love you, Duff. I wouldn't have left you over that, I'd help you through anything. And I love Grace and Mae, too," you told him.

     "I know, but I didn't want you to have to deal with all that baggage." You frowned at that. You reached your hand across the table and grasped his, squeezing it tenderly.

     "You're worth it."

     After that day, you and Duff started seeing each other again. It wasn't the same as before, but maybe even better.

     You were more transparent with each other. If one had a worry or problem, you'd go to the other. You talked everything through with him and he did the same. Even if it seemed insignificant, talking everything through never failed to make it better.

    You were happier and healthier than ever before. Sure, there were a roadblock or two, but they only made the relationship even stronger, and you wouldn't have changed a thing about it.

#classic rock imagine #guns n’ roses #guns n’ roses x reader #guns n’ roses imagine #80s #duff mckagan fluff #duff mckagan x reader #duff mckagan #duff mckagan imagine

[tottymatsuno]

For the character thing: Chibita!

WE LOVE HER! Oh there's SO much to be said, I should def post about Chibita more.

favorite thing about them

I actually starting thinking about this during my shower and I've been trying to organize my thoughts on exactly what aspect of Chibita is my favorite! I think it's that you can tell Chibita isn't in arrested development, he's grown so much since his childhood and he's partially through a healthy recovery without any real external praise, motivation or recognition.

All of the characters, Chibita's friends, his parent, his role models...All of them have these very clear cut narratives. If you knew Osomatsu in high school, you'd know he'd be like that. The following five brothers are pretty understandably different but you can still follow the connection to how they got where they are and they haven't changed or became anyone significant despite the ability to. if you knew Totoko in grade school you wouldn't be surprised she turned out that way, Iyami had been conning and scheming for years before Chibita was born and like 15 years later he aint stopped. You could see that clearly. Hatabou is simply rich now but is the same character, as is Dekapan and Dayon.

All of them you can see and go "Yeah sounds about right" except for Chibita? Chibita has become a legitimate business owner and the only reason why his business isn't thriving is specifically because of his attachments to people who don't mean him any good! The Matsunos don't pay him, Iyami is just as willing to scam Chibita as he is anyone else, his cart is always filled to the top with people who take and do not exchange anything for the time, labor and cost of ingredients but then come back to take more!

And Chibita is paying for it! He's paying to feed people who never fed him once! He loves his friends and thinks of them almost like family! He stands there for hours, cooks, listens to them bitch and then he serves them food and drink KNOWING they dont respect him and will not pay him! I think after the Karamatsu incident he lost all hope for actually being paid-paid and like Matsuyo he only cycles unpredictably if he's going to ask anything from them.

I like Chibita because he's loyal in that way, Chibita is an orphan and it's clear that he never found stable housing as a child but he still worked tooth and nail to get a stable home, to open a business, to go to culinary school. The flower fairy episode was so important for season 1 because it quickly establishes that Oden is a crutch for Chibita and that Chibita would view someone treating him with genuine kindess very skeptically and once he realized that it was legitimate Chibita would suffer immensely if that connection is lost.

I just really like him?! Like he was this chaotic small child who only really could depend on himself and he grew up to be this compassionate person who is pretty much a pillar in his small community of fuck ups. Chibita really needs more acknowledgement of what he does and more episodes where people are nice and respectful towards him.

Another thing is he's an enabler, and I know that sounds bad but I enjoy the fact that Chibita is only suffering as long as he feels obligated to. Chibita can get outta this at any time. He can set boundaries, he has options but he knows his friends and Iyami aren't ready. He's staying down with them until they can pick themselves back up. We've seen what happens to Iyami and what Iyami will eat/do without Chibita's active support, and while Iyami won't die or anything it must be depressing for his son to see his father won't get better. Chibita is an enabler in the same sense weening someone from an addiction is. We really need to respect that of him more.

least favorite thing about them

idk why the show made him shit his pants that one time. that was so gross and ooc. disrespectful.

favorite line

THIS WHOLE SKIT BUT THIS SCENE IN SPECIFIC! I think this skit is pretty good at identifying Chibita's core role in Ososan! He can fit in with the other's modern updates but he's still clearly a product of the past in his behaviors and gags. Iyami acknowledges that Chibita is much younger, much more relatable and has way more in common with these young adults - because Chibita is a young adult!

And Chibita in order to pacify his suicidal father figure just lists these qualities in order to commiserate with Iyami. That's all he's known, Chibita was raised with the dogs and he hasn't known a life without fleas! It makes me so sad because you can tell from these little hints throughout the series that Chibita has dealt with Iyami and this enmeshment between the two. Since Osokun Chibita has been in this role reversal where he is either Iyami's direct equal, or even takes care of this grown man who should in theory be insuring his safety.

Iyami's all he has and Chibita isn't willing to let him go. Chibita is all Iyami has and same can be said for him! They're a father and child and both of them care for each other so much despite it doing no good for either of them. Multiple times in Osomatsu-san Chibita has hinted that Iyami is refusing his kindness and idk idk. makes me wanna cry. Chibita's stuck parenting his parent. It's very depressing, Chibita puts himself down in order to reclaim this space as Iyami's equal and his partner in crime. Someone that will get fleas with him, someone who will starve and suffer with Iyami. idk!!!!

brOTP

Chibita and most of the brothers, him and Iyami being father and son, his friendship with Nyaa and Totoko

OTP

Karabita, Chibita/Flower Fairy, Osobita, Chibita being a part time member of the Wifeys for Life polycule, Chibou (is that the ship name?)

nOTP

Chibita and Iyami kys <3 Chibita involved romantically/sexually with any of the geezer characters. Die.

random headcanon

Because his business if often in the red (bc he loves his friends too much) Chibita relies off of a lot of the poverty tactics in order not to cut on the quality for his oden ingredients.

unpopular opinion

This is a weird thing to try and articulate but there needs to be more nostalgia in the content people make for him? More of a dreamy/nightmarish vague sense people need to extend towards adult Chibita as well? And to acknowledge further beyond his adolescence that he dealt with trauma? I guess what I'm trying to say is we need to associate Chibita with less of anger and more of a nostalgia dissociation? Like a daydream thats gone on much too long

song i associate with them

For literally NO reason at all but

favorite picture of them

SO CUTE!

#my cherished anon #Struggles to write this bc of baby attacks #shows that drive you insane with the writing #gag animes that make you sob #biblical truths as scribed by me

[valkerymillenia]

Umbrella Academy

season 2, episode 7

More thoughts and live blogged reactions.

1982. I'm assuming Five used a briefcase... But in s1 we saw that the briefcase travels are tracked (Hazel and Cha-Cha got reprimanded for Klaus's Vietnam trip) so I'm not sure how the board doesn't know someone is coming... I might be overthinking.

Five being creepy.

Is that a Fudge Nutter like Handler mentioned in season 1? Oh, it is.

Jesus, Five! Anger management for you, old man.

AAHH! THEY LET FIVE SAY FUCK! Fucking finally! 🤣

How did nobody notice that destruction? 😆

Oh, the axe! Is Five going to go all American psycho? Because I'd love to see that.

HOLY SHIT!

That smile!

HOLY SHIT!!!!!!

Is he using tiny time travel bursts like Reggie said? Or a briefcase? Or is he just that fast?

AJ hiding under the table 😆

Pausing to drink water and grin, what a psycho, I love him.

He's definitely using time jumps but they are so controlled that I'm guessing briefcase or Handler little time stopping trick. I'm so proud of my mass murder baby.

... Vending machine? Lady, you have interesting priorities.

CRICKET BAT!

Wait! AJ's human body feels pain? How?

Please make Five swallow the fish like in the comics! Please, please, please, please.

The dancers are just like

I LOVE FIVE! The lengths this little killer will go for his family are unbelievable, nobody should ever doubt his love and devotion for them ever again.

This whole murder scene was incredible and Five's obvious glee made it even better. FEAR HIM!

Jesus, Klaus is so afraid of being possessed that he's afraid to sleep and Ben just mocks him? 😘💋 I get that this is supposed to be a funny 'brothers messing with each other' kind of thing but Klaus feels so unsafe that it makes me uncomfortable. What happened to you, Ben, when did you become so dark? You were the nice one!

Ben just getting closer and closer every time Klaus closes his eyes just gave me Doctor Who flashbacks.

"I hate your face" "I hate all of you" - Don't say that boys! You know you love each other.

Ok, Ben has a point. I'm actually liking this conversation. And I'm liking that Klaus is starting to understand his brother.

Ok, this is such a brother conversation. And Klaus constantly pretending not to know who Jill is 😆

Ground rules... Well, at least it's consensual now. That's something. See? Communication works.

Damn, the tension at the lunch table cut be cut with a knife. I'm scared what Carl is going to do.

Ray and Allison have a lovely relationship but I finally identified the problem, the tension I was feeling between since them a few eps back. It's not about Allison's secrets at all, is about Ray being so obsessed with his crusade that he completely overlooks Allison's feelings, he only pays attention to her when they are on the page about the mission. He sees her powers and his first thought is 'we could use this for the cause', Allison is clearly distressed and sad and even says she doesn't feel well and all he can think about is the damn JFK meeting. He's not a bad person and he's not doing it on purpose but he has a workaholic one-track mind that could easy turn into neglect for Allison. He clearly loves her and I'm rooting for them so much but I know that if asked to choose between Allison and his cause, he'll pick his cause.

So Five is done with the killing. I figured this might weigh on his conscience, it's one thing to kill for a greater good or survival, coldly and detached, it's another thing to slaughter for selfish reasons (even if his selfish reasons are a greater good).

Handler going all mom on him and wiping his face. 😆

"What I did today, I did for my family" -we know, baby, and they better respect you for it. You love then so much.

90 minutes??? Wtf, I knew Handler would try to screw Five over but that's just cruel, she's forcing him to uproot the family without even giving them time to say goodbye and that's even IF he can get to all of them on time.

It's not a name, you idiots. Also, that's Olga, not öga.

Don't harass the poor woman... Oh God, you guys are such morons... Diego, you dramatic little bitch...

"Wrong number. Have a lovely day" 🤣🤣🤣

I love the new dumbass buddy cop dynamic between Diego and Luther. This is the sort of positive brotherly dynamic they always should have had instead of being pitted against each other all their lives.

"you have some blood on you" "a lot of blood, actually. Five, what did you do?" -the casual, mildly annoyed way they ask is hilarious, if they knew what he did they'd be horrified (and possibly impressed).

Handler's militaristic chic dress is fabulous. I personally don't like it very much (or the message it sends) but it's haute couture and incredibly designed. Also, the bleached hair is back!

"any questions?" And then she leaves without listening. Power move 😏

Luther trying to comfort Diego like the dork he is. 🤣

Really though, I feel bad for Diego, and Five is under so much pressure that I don't blame him for snapping.

"I'm shy" -are you, Klaus? Are you really? You keep walking around in underwear in front of dozens of people, you're not shy.

So is Klaus lactose intolerant?

Ok, so far the possession thing is not as bad as some people were claiming. So far.

"stay focused" *giggle* -oh Ben, you dork 😆

Ahah, Ben enjoying all the different sensory stimuli. Adorable. He's just so happy, poor boy.

Dirt angels. SO CUTE ❤️

I know this all supposed to be cute and all but it would also be a perfect moment for Ben for experience Klaus's powers (the constant hauntings) as well as his addiction and the claustrophobic expectations of the cult. It would be an excellent chance to make Ben understand why Klaus is the way he is, seeing as Klaus is making a huge effort (and sacrifice) to do the same for Ben. Unfortunately, I don't see that happening because I think they want to keep this part about Ben.

By end of season 1 Klaus cried that people still didn't take him seriously, his compassion despite all his suffering made him likeable and deep, but this season he's back to being the family joke, I don't like that there's no resolution to that. But let's see where this goes, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Oh God, Carl's talk is freaking me out.

"who I am is not a disease" -very powerful LGBT+ statement considering it's the 60s!!!!

Oh, the blackmail...

Everybody keeps expecting Vanya to explode every time she gets emotional but this scene proves how much control she truly has. Respect!

Oh, finally Claire is mentioned! I've been rather upset that Allison hasn't mentioned her daughter even once this season (does Ray even know he has a stepdaughter?) seeing as most of her arc in season 1 revolved around her love and guilt over Claire.

Luther is right when he says they don't get live formal lives because they are special but Allison is even more right when she says that's not fair. This is why this family needs to stick together and love each other, they are the only ones that can really understand each other's struggles.

"hope" -Luther, you really are such a sweet summer child.

OH! I CAN FINALLY SEE ALLISON'S SCAR! The lighting in this scene makes it really obvious. Finally.

Ben and the strawberry. 🤣

"you're different today. You're dorkier" ah! First time anyone called Ben 'Sassy' Hargreeves dorky.

Oh Ben, you're adorable... Wait, "smell your hair"? What the fuck, Ben? You weirdo.

Holy crap! Jill is really forward, isn't she? Hippies, man.

Ben stuttering! 😆🤣 He died a virgin, didn't he?

It's funny but please tell me he isn't actually considering that in his brother's body...

Wait, did Klaus slap him because he doesn't want to have sex or because he's trying to stop Ben from ruining his own chance by saying too much?

Actually, I'm almost sure it's the second one, Klaus is playing wingman on his own body!

WHAT????

Ok so Ben IS a virgin but "you, me and Keechie"? What the fuck, Klaus? You slept with the fanatical crybaby and your brother's crush????

"Klaus, you're so filthy!" "Yes, you are, daddy." -Ben, this girl is not right for you. Run, boy!

AHAHAHAH ASDFGDDGGHSGSGASFHDBKDIS 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 DIEGO CALLING HIM DADDY!

Wait, AJ can speak without the body/suit/whatever?

Handler is going a little bit fascist dictator, isn't she?

Gotta admit, Handler really is such a mom in her own twisted way.

Ben giggling when he talks to Diego. Cute.

"Luther sniffs Dad's underwear" 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

AWWWWWWWW, BEN AND DIEGO! THE CHILDHOOD HIJINKS! THE HUG!

GOD, THE HUG! ❤️

I need all the siblings hugging Ben now!

"you stay in this body, we need someone responsible behind the wheel" -Diego, I understand what you mean given the situation, but you playing obvious favorites between your brothers when free will and body autonomy are on the line is a little creepy.

"no one is insignificant" -that line is so loaded when used on Vanya.

Oh no, Vanya and Five playing the blame game is so bad... They used to be so close... They are both under so much pressure, this won't end well.

Oh boy, Five looks like he's on the verge of crying and Vanya sees that! I bet that's why she backed down. 😲😢

The Lila and Diego conversation is heartbreaking without even trying...

Is that Elliot? Is Diego burying Elliot because nobody else will? Diego really does have a heart of gold.

Don't drinkit! I'm pretty sure Lila is drugging you.

Yup, there it is.

What is she planning?

Once again, it's all about the movement with Ray.

"I would take my one year with you over a lifetime with anybody else." 😭 Oh Ray ❤️

But I get the feeling this won't end so easily.

There it is, the Swedes just arrived. And the smart assholes went right for Allison's throat.

You don't need the coffee can, Sissy. The Hargreeves are loaded.

Sissy, hurry up.

BEN, YOU ARE SUCH A 90s KID!!! So the Backstreet Boys are Ben's fault, God, I love this dork 🤣

Come on, Allison, you can fight better than this!

Good girl!

Klaus and Ben running and fighting each other at the same time 😆

Holy shit, that is some Exorcist level vomiting!

Poor Klaus, I totally get Ben's side in this (pretty sure he was trying to save Klaus by getting him to Five ASAP) but this whole thing made me mildly uncomfortable. Klaus just keeps sacrificing for everyone and nobody respects his boundaries.

Holy shit, Allison! That is so cruel! I like it though, so ruthless and vicious. 😈

Problem- Allison can't just leave Ray with a white corpse in the house. Especially not in Texas, death penalty and all.

Oh Sissy, you dumbass. You're a sweetheart but also a dumbass.

Ok, Lila is pretty insane. That's for sure.

Five:

"I don't want to hurt you" - well, Vanya warned them.

My baby is getting really good with her powers.

I hope that hit to the head doesn't give Vanya her memory back, that's so cliché and convenient, or would be really bad writing.

SHIT IS HITTING THE FAN. I'm dying to see more!!!!!!

#tua #tua s2 #tua s2 spoilers

[scenariosofkonoha]

Oooh...what if Kankuro and Gaara marry sisters? I don't mean like a double wedding (I think that may help the brothers if they go through it together though), but if Kankuro meets the eldest first and the youngest comes along later.

I had a lot of fun with this one! I certainly hope you like it Space! ~ Admin Little Lace

Kankuro

Temari always knew that whoever would end up with Kankuro would be just as much of a handful as he was. He sister wasn’t wrong

Kankuro’s S/O is a wild child. The sassy shinobi had been a known trouble-maker even in her youth in the village. She was often known to say how she felt and fight anyone who felt differently.

Although Kankuro had known of her when they were young, neither of them had run in the same circles. When they officially meet at a training ground when they are a little older. The meeting falls more along the lines of a confrontation.

She brazenly states that  “well isn’t the puppet doing most of the work? I’d just end up fighting the puppet. Aren’t you strong enough to take me on solo?” This puts the two of them at odds and they end up sparring. When neither comes out as a clear victor they become rivals.

And I mean rivals in everything. Though they may spar and often, they challenge each other on who can lift the most, haw fast they can navigate the caverns, who can eat the most (who can survive the longest without getting sick after said challenge) even down to long drawn out sessions in shogi.

When the scores are tallied and they still come up with the two of them escalating to pranking one another. Simple tricks like finding snakes in his puppets to her being glued to a chair only go further when chakra threads and transportation scrolls become involved.

The two spend most of their teenage years this way. Petty challenges give way to vigorous training sessions. Taunts of bet you can’t do this,” and “you’ll never beat me,” turn to “it’d be cool is Black Ant could do this,” and “If you use that jutsu after the initial attack it would be more effective.”

In the words of her sister their relationship is kind of frighting. They constantly seem to be at each other’s throats but also having the time of their lines.

“No one asked you!” She snapped as they walked through the market.

“Kami woman, why are you so loud?” he grumbled.

“If I’m so loud, I’ll eat by myself then.” She snarked paying for the ginger.

“After you bragged for weeks that you can cook?” He deadpanned pushing her buttons.

“I can cook. Maybe I’ll just poison you instead.”

“I’ll come back and haunt you,”

“Great so the suffering never ends.”

“Oh, you’re so lucking to have me!”

“That’s what I tell myself, every morning.”

“You’re not funny,”

“Your face is funny enough for the both of us.” she glared as they continued their shopping.

They are always like this. To the point that people wonder if they are mortal enemies or a married couple.

Instead of what their thinly veiled threats and aggressive sounding conversations may sound like they are very close. She will always come visit him in his workshop, even though it is to push his buttons she does want to know what he is working on. All in the name of beating him, she swears. Kankuro puts her on the village’s ANBU Black Ops. But definitely not because she is incredible but so he can make sure she isn’t embarrassing the village.

Neither of them allow the other to date. Each time someone approaches interested leave it to either of them to find a way to ruin it.

“His got desert mites,

“She’s possessed,”

“Sorry he’s in an arranged marriage.”

“Tough break, she’s got a family in the Hidden Leaf.”

“He’s building the perfect puppet wife.

“She’s celibate for her heathen gods.”

“He’s addicted to eating glue.”

“She’s not your type.

‘Hes a eunuch,”

Her little sister is still indeed scared. The girl is the one that begs her sister to admit her feelings for the middle sand sibling. Anytime the attraction is brought up, both party’s blush and deny. The sister stating.

“Why would I want the purple striped idiot?”

Kankuro is a tad bit more honest.

“She’s not interested in me,”

In comes Temari, older sister and voice of reason, persuading the boy to be honest with her.He words trigging his resolve.

“If she didn't like you, I’m not sure she’d want you around.”

Kankuro is the one that makes the move. Half way through bickering he turned to the girl and kissed her. No warning just an impassioned kiss. Stunning them both. No one says anything for the longest time in their “friendship.” Well until she pokes his arm, blushing heavily telling him his an idiot.

From that point on they are together. Their relationship just as verbally volatile as it ever was. But there is a certain spark. Pokes and “love taps” aren’t as blood thirsty. They stand closer, touches don’t look like attempted murder and…she smiles. Often.

As happy as the two of them are they aren’t very public about it. Everyone knows they are together, the “private looks” are a dead giveaway.

Her younger sister is the only one brave enough to lightly tease them about how happy they look.

“I only wish I’m as happy when I find my someone,” she gushed at them, hearts in her eyes with a soft dreamy look on her face Kankuro met his lover’s eyes from across the work bench. His smirk holding a secret that was too good for her to ignore.

Gaara

Gaara had been watching the girl for as long as he could remember. She is known throughout the village as a sweetheart. It is a stark contrast to her elder sister that felt the need to fight the world.

It was her sister’s personality that aided in her reputation. Every time the elder started a fight, pulled a prank or her presence became a nuisance, the younger would draw up a apology note. That notes one very well done, her pristine calligraphy and gentle artwork. They are famous Suna her thoughtfulness and kindness well renown.

When Gaara begins engaging more with people he notices her and feels things for her, he hadn’t felt anyone else he knew. And he hadn’t even spoken to her.

Upon discovering his brother infatuation with the girl, Kankuro tires to go and check her out. Instead he is stopped by her sister berating his puppetry skills.  The sparring match that resulted caused the girl to seek Gaara out. She kindly apologizes to both him and his family for her sister’s behavior leaving him with a note.

It’s easy to see for the older sand siblings that Gaara is deeply interested int he girl. They decide to work to get him to probably speak to her more than his simply “thank you,” he had given her. Temari goes to see the girl.

Unlike her sister, she is not a ninja or training to be one. She works and studies the trade under her grandparents at their shop. Temari visits and secretly vets the girl. As she decides that the girl would be good for brother, she slowly becomes friends with both sisters.

Kankuro was suppose to be doing the same  but instead gets wrapped up in the older sister. Sparring pranking and causing the younger to make more notes. Though she tries to give it to the others, each of his siblings make sure she always gives the apology to Gaara.

Gaara always shyly says thank you, that feeling in his chest never lessening. He at one point believes he might be sick. She makes sure he receives a get well card, his ‘conditions’ worsens.

As time goes by his feelings never waver only growing with every card he receives and every passing conversation they share. He has various birthday cards, numerous holiday cards and a good luck plaque she created when he was announced as Kazekage.

Their relationship doesn’t change very much as Gaara can identify the emotion now but isn’t sure what to do about it. Temari’s advice of “just say something” doesn’t inspire much action on his part. Now he can hide from his feelings behind work as well.

With the new couple formed Kankuro and his S/O decide to take a more hands on approach.

With Temari, the girl’s older sister does her best to get the younger girl’s opinion of Gaara. The girl blushes not sure how to feel about the red-haired man.

“Oh, Lord Gaara is very kind and-” she blushes, much like her sister, giving her companions the confirmation they needed for the next step.

Since it is all up to Gaara to do something, his brother and his S/O to push the two together. They do the tried and true method of telling their siblings they need to meet with them at the perfect spot, both of them having no intention of showing up and allowing the potential love birds to talk.

Much to their dismay neither show up. Instead Gaara continues to work and the young sister comes in to bring him yet another apology note.

“I apologize for my sister…” she faltered with a sigh “again… I will make sure she doesn’t bother you Lord Kazekage.” She gave a deep bow, thinking that she will probably be here next week as well.

His heart beat faster as he accepts as he always does. She then sees all the paperwork on his desk and everything he needed to accomplish for the day. She then, much to both of their surprise, offers to help. Just as an apology for the antics that take him away from it.

Just wanting to see her more Gaara accepts and she sets to organizing the paper work allowing his work to move more smoother as they get through it together.

Later Kankuro and his S/O go to the office to see the two sharing a cup of tea. They leave them to get more acquainted.

Eventually Gaara will formally ask her out but only when she has gotten the proper chance to get to know him and fall for him as well.

Bonus: Tiny Wedding Details

As much as a joint wedding would assist him in Navigating such a momentous occasion, due to Gaara’s station, the wedding would unfortunately have to be separate. But that doesn’t stop Kankuro from being with his brother every step of the way.

Kankuro has his first, a small affair with just friends and family. It is very private per his new-wife’s comfort level. Though loud and brash, she is super shy and the whole event is a little uncomfortable to her. She spends the most of the night blushing calling the whole event unnecessary and giving death glare to her new husband as he teases her.

Gaara’s wedding much to his dismay, is treated most political than he would like. It isn’t just one event but a several different events that make up their wedding. It is filled with smaller engagements traditions and slowly make him wish they could marry quietly. His brother and Naruto are there to assist him with it all as well as his wife. Throughout whole tedious happening his bride is there smiling and guiding him along helping him though.

Even though the two are the more quiet of the couples no one can question their love for each other. The soft smiles and shy glances are a dead giveaway, much to their elder siblings teasing.

#asks #naruto headcanons #naruto headcanon #naruto imagines #Gaara #Sabaku No Gaara #gaara headcanon #gaara of the sand #Sabaku No Kankuro #kankuro headcanon #kankuro imagines #naruto #admin Little Lace

[emomiddleschooler2009]

*art by me* a fun crazy post I typed at 4AM on LSD after going 2 days nonstop at theme parks.

Been watching a lot of SpongeBob. There's a part where SpongeBob is freaking out to Patrick after finding out he's "ugly" and he says, I'm spiraling.

I'm spiraling

It's funny. Like I here it in Tom Kenny's fucking hilarious voice. It's funny.

It's funny but it's identifiable. So much of SpongeBob is so relatable. I am spiraling.

I love west side story.

There's a quote I love.

Action is talking back to Doc when Doc starts lecturing about "when I was your age we didn't-". And action goes:

"When you was my age? When my old man was my age, when my brother was my age... You was never my age, none of ya! And the sooner you creeps get hip to that, the sooner you'll dig us!"

I love it. It always resonated with me. No people of any generation can understand yours. Action is saying that Doc might have been a teen once, but doc will never understand what it's like to be a teen in the current time. Older people's references to when they were younger or how things were is relatively irrelevant.

Because they've never been your age in a time like this. Like you'll never know what it's like being an old person at a time like this. You can only speculate.

Am I making sense? I'm not sure..but I'll go back and re-read this and decide later.

Still spiraling.

So many things to do. Always. It's like there's so many to do lists in my head all the time. At this point I don't know wether it's the depression or the anxiety or the ADHD or god knows what.

I'm frankly too scared to truly tell even a therapist what's going on in my head.

It's just so much. All the time.

So I have a science degree and work in the medical field. I have seen so much. It isn't until I talk to pretty much any non medical people do I realize I have seen in a week what someone might see in a lifetime.

No sad movie or drama really ever makes me sad. Once you see the darkest of reality , the pretend does nothing. The pretend is for those who want to closely graze the darkness but never truly want to see it in real life.

The weight this puts on someone is astounding. You know why so many high intelligence, high functioning, STEM people kill themselves?

Why they all suffer depression or suffer addiction

Why they all have anxiety and insomnia

Why they as a workforce seem to suffer mentally?

Why?

We'll, people say.

People say they shouldn't. They get paid enough, they should be happy

"Why should I feel bad about someone who is burdened by their job? They get paid so much. They get paid enough. They should be happy".

As if wealth just makes it all better

I hate when people talk like that about celebrities and artists. Like the fact that's they have wealth cured all problems.

You can't pay the things you've seen away.

You can try but a relaxing foot rub won't hide the fact you had to console a hysterical woman after you both watched her mother blow her a kiss goodbye as she coded. The terror in her voice.

Getting a facial or new outfit is nice, but the face of the woman you watched die as she choked on her own fluids because she had a DNR never leaves you.

Even eating your favorite meal can't distract you from the time and time again you had to take care of a person who should have died long ago. Whose suffering should have been ended long before they were contracted in half, covered in bed sores. But they were still here all because their so called loved ones still somehow think they're alive. Or they're religious. Or they're simply cashing in on them

Their brains long gone, or whatever is left you can almost feel them begging to be let go. Life is cheap.

Like in game of thrones. Danaerys asks a witch for her husband to be alive. And she gets him alive. A vegetable. Braindead but alive. And the witch explains,

This is being alive. Life is cheap.

Life and life.

They're very different things. Life is all around. But what we quantify as

Life

Is such a matter of perspective .

My pinky is getting tired from supporting this phone.

#depression #anxiety #adhd #adhd problems #actually adhd #anxious #PTSD #medical depression

[alternatebrainiverse]

Hoping this will explain a little of ram dass' philosophy around spiritualism and psychology.

It has helped me immensely, to not be so identified with my personality that was created from the outcomes of my childhood and past experience.

I have found much relief by identifying more with the witness of it all, instead of getting caught up in the psychology of it. I am that which sees the behaviour. I am not that which reacts and blindly acts out the behaviour.

(This is also what I meant by still having that rock solid self awareness while my mind and body were reacting to the drug interaction. I was not my body's reaction, I was that which saw my body's reaction from within).

Yes childhood and past experiences caused me to learn a pattern of behaviours that creates who I am psychologically today. And that is perfectly fine to acknowledge and address. But ultimately I identify with that who witnesses it all, and who breaks the chain of learned behaviour.

And for whatever reason, simple ridiculous practises of repeating strange words in obscure languages (mantra), keeps my patterns of behaviour on track with greate ease and allowance.

When I start to see my mind get caught in reactivity, I just go back to the practise. I drop everything I think i know, every judgment or idea about it, and just do it. And suddenly I'm no longer identified with the reactivity. Instead I am calmly watching from within.

Here is my dictation of the podcast:

Question:

In dealing with attachments and addictions, I find that at the time when I needed my practise the most I seem to put it behind me. I go for the attachment or addiction, and immediately after, the guilt sets in that I didn't go to my practise to get the strength or guidance that I need to bypass the addiction. And then I feel guilt or sadness that instead of going for the comfort that the practise brings me, I have to deal with the guilt that I bypassed it. How can we get around this?

Answer:

When we were born, we come into the world from being fully at home. We have a little shadow of this feeling again at the end of the day when we come home and can relax and come to home in a safe space, of feeling at peace or at one. And when we get separated from that, (which all occurs within the mind) there is an ignorance that creates the root of all suffering - the clinging of the mind to the things which seperate us from that feeling of being fully at home, at peace or at one.

Once that separation has occurred there is incredible pain, and in some profound way all of our actions henceforth are an attempt to return to coming back into the one. And we develop a whole set of techniques that make us feel good, for that moment of returning to the one. Some of those give us that moment so intensely, and the rest of our life is so devoid of that feeling, that once we find one of those things (sex, surfing, cooking, or whenever you turn into the joy of the process), when that occurs, and it works for you, it reinforces the behaviour and you start to do it more and more. The use of drugs, material possessions, relationships, all is trying to get to the place where you come back into that oneness.

When you look at addictions in that way, you see they are not evil, they are just an attempt to get back. The problem is that most behaviours will allow you to get there but only temporarily. Most addictive things are short term. The minute they end, you end up feeling like you've done something bad, which starts a reaction of the mind. You come down. You feel guilt. Why didn't you do the long term gratification practise rather than the short term gratification. You choose the little candy bar now over the big candy bar later.

When you start to stand back and see your predicament, there is a way from a spiritual perspective in which you begin with that slight bit of awareness to extricate yourself from that chain of reactivity - that whole chain of thoughts that go on.

As you start to develop the spaciousness, you start to develop at where you can intervene in the process or sequence that goes on. As the awareness gets deeper you intervene at different places.

For example, I have had strong addictions to food, so that when I am feeling unloved, i'll eat, and I'll get fat, and then I'll hate myself because of my body and so on.

The first place I began to intervene was when I was told that it's just old karma running off. (So maybe this creates a sense of surrender of control over the situations that feel helpless. Its just the stuff you've got to work through in 'this life', and each moment of you working through it is all perfect timing).

Then I began to break in at the point that after I had eaten too much to reduce my anxiety because my mother fed me food when I was upset and I learned that partern - instead of going into the sequence of 'I'm no good' etc, I break the chain at that point and just go back into my spiritual practises.

As the witness gets stronger you start to go back in the chain further and further, up until the first feeling of separateness begins with the first feeling of hunger. So then as you're about to eat, you start to notice the whole sequence and you can see the emptiness of the form you're about to take.

One develops a lot of patience and a lot of gentleness with oneself.

When I see someone with addiction I'm inclined to say to start doing spiritual practises. Do the studies that will allow you to see yourself in a new way. To understand what that hunger is you're feeding in a new way. To just get a little perspective. Don't worry about the addiction, it will fall away when it will fall away. And when you do it again, just notice it, and say how poignant I am, how poignant the human condition. Be gentle with yourself. The patterns and addictions change without dealing with them head on.

Keep cultivating the practises.

When I start driving to town to give a lecture, and I start to get uptight about what I'm going to talk about..  it's a neurotic pattern with a whole psychodynamic storyline about it. I look at it and think 'there it is'. At that moment I start a mantra and 6mins later I'm in a different space.

You could say it's denial, and I've worked with some of it psychologically, but a lot of it has just become uninteresting. I just flip gears immediately. Because the moment you get lost in identification with your personality to the exclusion of identification with your soul, you've lost it. And if you get caught in your soul in exclusion of your personality you've lost it equally as much, and that's the balance of us as human beings.

But in saying all of this, I still see great benefit in working through past experiences, learned behaviours and personality. It also helps give great perspective, validates the invalidated unsure childhood perspective, gives space to allow and have understanding for past me, and in a way creates a nice comforting blanket for current me to be heard and feel safe with another human who is not dangerous or threatening. Which is nice. Which is needed.

So I am choosing to do this work, I look forward to digging through my memories, and to find, meet, and nurture past versions of myself.

I'm just doing this without so much identification with those versions of myself anymore.

•~•~•

This is what the hanuman chalisa has been for me 🙂

And when it comes to spiritualism or religion, there is no right or wrong, there are only words and ideas that do or don't speak to you. For me a lot of this religious ideology, for someone who has always been vastly unreligious, has been about letting all of that go and just seeing what happens. Surrendering anything I think I know about who I am or how the world works. And just seeing what happens. Mostly, magic happens.. a subtle opening. And at the very least I have learned how these seemingly obscure mundane practises of repeating sounds, actibg with intention, developing the witness, or focusing attention can train the neuropathways and modify our own behaviour as desired. Throw away all ideas about it, do the practices with a little faith that it works, and see the difference.

If you don't, maybe it's just not for you right here and now, or maybe it will never be be you, and that's ok too! Take what serves you, leave what doesn't. For me, it has brought so much peace, and am amazed at how many layers of myself can be peeled back when you just allow.

#Youtube

[scripttorture]

1/2 Hi! I'm the one who asked about the magical "truth serum." Thanks for answering my original question! I don't know if this changes things, but the police and the laws themselves have been portrayed as ineffective and often brutal, and the society that I'm writing about is already shaking itself apart because of huge injustices. The only times I've shown the spell in action, it's with people who were eager to co-operate anyway, and when it started to hurt the interrogation fell apart.

2/2 My MC does have lasting psychological damage from his encounters with them. If the way to proceed is to show that this technique is worse than useless, that it's one more reason why the prisons are filled with unjustly convicted people, and that the police who do this are torturers with everything that goes with that, I do think I'm in a position to write that.

For readers generally theoriginal ask with my original response is here.

 Yes that contextchanges things. It means that I think I completely misunderstood the originalask. That happens occasionally and I’m sorry about that. Thank you for being sounderstanding.

 A lot of askers tend toapologise for sending in long asks but honestly more information is morehelpful for me. Having wider context for the story helps. We’re tackling toughsubjects here and I think detail and nuance is incredibly important

 Knowing that you’reshowing this as ineffective makes all the difference.

 The original ask wasabout effects, both on the victims and society more generally. I’m going tostart with the MC, this is going to apply to victims generally though.

 I’ve got a summary ofthe commonpsychological effects of torture here. Symptoms are generally the same nomatter what technique is used (there are a few exceptions but even thoseinclude the common symptoms on the list). Victims won’t all experience the samesymptoms and it’s impossible to predict who will experience which symptoms.

 As a result I tend tosuggest picking symptoms based on what the author feels fits the character andoverall story best.

 Given the way you’reusing this magic I think memory problems would be an excellent fit for thestory.

 In the long term aftertorture memory problems can manifest in several different ways and theseproblems can occur separate or together. Broadly speaking they come in aboutthree categories: memory loss, intrusive memories and inaccurate memories.

 Memory loss can mean forgetting the traumatic incidententirely but that’s not a very common form of problem. More commonly what itmeans is forgetting chunks of time immediately before and immediately aftertorture. It can also mean a sort of long term forgetfulness which makeseveryday life much more difficult. Learning new things, remembering wherethings are, being on time- simple everyday things like that become a lot moredifficult.

 That sort memoryproblem is incredibly common and rarely shown in fiction. I’ve actually had afew survivors contact me to say they weren’t even aware what they wereexperiencing was a symptom.

 Intrusive memories are alot easier to explicitly link to torture. They’re basically continuallyremembering and going over a traumatic event. It means that the character isconstantly reminded of torture, by small everyday things. And those remindersprompt an extremely vivid, detailed memory of the abuse they suffered. It meansthinking about what they survived almost all the time.

 Inaccurate memories aremuch harder to identify as a problem from ‘inside’. They feel like normalmemories and people experience them generally are convinced that their memoryis accurate.

 They usually affectmemories of and around torture and they’re often about details. Someone mightsay that the door of the room they were tortured in was on the left, when infact it was on the right. They can affect things like remembering exactly whodid what when and in what order.

 This can makeprosecuting a torture case extremely difficult.

 For your story inparticularly I want to highlight the work Morgan et al did with US soldiers.The soldiers, who all had years of front line combat experience, went through afake capture scenario as part of a ‘training exercise’. Some of them were thenput through a ‘high stress’ interrogation which included shouting, abuse andthe sorts of clean beating US rules allowed at the time. The other had a‘low-stress’ interrogation, a chat over a hot drink.

 Morgan then tested themthe next day to see who recognised their interrogator. Depending on how theywere asked to identify the interrogator between 51-68% identified the wrong person. Most of them wereconfident they’d gotten the right person. (The paper can be found here: C AMorgan et al, International Journal of Law and Psychiatry in 2004, 27, 265-279pgs)

 The interrogations werearound four hours and I think this study is really relevant to what you want towrite. Don’t worry too much if you can’t access the paper itself. The generalpicture of memory problems are more important than the in-depth statistical andmethod analysis the paper concentrates on.

 I’ve stressed all ofthese memory problems for a reason: I think you should show this magic as worsethan useless and I think this is the most sensible way to tackle it. It’s not alie if you honestly think it’s true and our memories are incredibly prone toflaws especially when we’re stressed or in pain.

 To put that a bit morebluntly: what we think is factually true canchange if we’re in pain.

 And those falsememories can persist and feel just as ‘true’ as accurate memories.

 The next thing I thinkyou really need to consider are the police officers themselves. There’s lessresearch on torturers then torture victims but what we have overwhelminglysuggests that torturing other people causes severe mental illness in thetorturer.

 Idiscuss the kinds of effects it has in another ask here (the questionitself involves mentions of rape and sexual abuse but there are no graphicdescriptions in the question or answer).

 Have a read through ofthat because whether you focus on any of the police as characters or not ifthis system comes down that’s a lot ofpeople with those symptoms who will be out of work. Their society is goingto have to come up with a way of coping with that.

 That can take a lot ofdifferent forms. In Soviet Russia it was lethal purges. In South Africa it wasthe Truth and Reconciliation Commission. In the aftermath of the Bosnian war it’sbeen one of the most successful series of war crimes trials in history.

 On the nicer end you’relooking at long term mental health programs and re-training programs, jailsentences for the worst offenders and a structured plan to get these peopleback into the community in a healthy way.

 On the worse end it’signoring the problem and ending up with a lotof people who are violent, traumatised and can’t hold down a job anymore. Thatmeans a massive uptick in homelessness and problems related to addiction (iemore demand for health services then the set up can support).

 Those are problems forthis society afterwards. During all of this the problems are gonna be a littledifferent.

 This system will haveabsolutely destroyed the public’s trust in the police force. In a way that goesbeyond the ways torture normally destroys the public’s trust in the policeforce. There is normally a drop in people volunteering information to thepolice when the police torture but in most scenarios that’s because they’reafraid people they know will be tortured not because informants are at risk oftorture themselves. But everyone istortured in this scenario, including the witnesses and the people who reportcrimes.

 Simply put people willstop reporting crimes.

 The police might usethat to argue that crime has dropped and what they’re doing works.

 In fact you’ll have asystem of more or less complete collapse. I don’t know whether crime wouldactually rise but it would certainly go unpunished.

 With no onevolunteering information and a general culture of silence the police wouldprobably respond by arresting people at random. This is pretty common inpolicing systems that have come to rely on torture.

 Not only does this meanmore brutalised, injured people and less trust in the police it also creates aculture of fear. Because under these circumstances people tend to assume that there is a reason the police took the peoplethey did. They assume the raids and the disappearances are to do with someunder lying logic even when none exists.

 I think the best thingto read for the sort of societal affects you might see is Fanon’s The Wretched of the Earth. And luckily it’snow available for free over here.

 The only parts of Fanon’sbook I’ve read in detail are his psychiatric notes on patients he treatedduring and after the Franco-Algerian war. These included torture victims,torturers and the families of both groups.

 But the majority of thebook is about the injustice of colonialism, shaped by Fanon’s experience of France’sbloody, unjust policy of mass detention and torture of Algerians during thewar. (For further reading on France’s torture practices in Algeria see H Alleg’sThe Question)

 You’ve essentially gota society where there is no law enforcement and at the same time citizens areperiodically and randomly pulled off the street and tortured. There’s going tobe a lot of fear and a lot of distrust of authority. People may or may not haveformed their own parallel social systems already (with their own law enforcersand their own back-room courts).

 And that’s now edgingtowards @scriptsociology’s area of expertise. This is going to be an intensely fracturedsociety with a lot of genuine grievances and a lot of really profoundly illpeople who’ll need help. I strongly suggest consulting @scriptsociology if youwant this society to be rebuilt or come together, because it’s a lot easier forsocieties in this situation to fall apart rather than come back together.

 That may not havecovered anything but I think it’s a decent broad overview. If you’ve got any morequestions feel free to ask as soon as the box is open again. :)

Disclaimer

#tw torture #tw police brutality #fantasy ask #police torture #effect of torture on victims #effect of torture on torturers #psychological effects of torture #effects of torture on society #effects of torture on public trust #Anonymous

[mileycfan4eva33]

Fandom: SVU

Title: Covenant From The Heart

Chapter 1: Violent Moment

P O V: Amanda Rollins

(A/N: Noah, Jessie, Billie do not exist in this fic. I own nothing except my ideas and original characters. All others belong to Wolf Entertainment and NBC.)

Saturday, June 2020

Christopher Street, New York, NY

"I hope you don't mind

I hope you don't mind

That I put down in words

how wonderful life is while you're in this world."

The radio plays as I sit inside the back of the Covenant House Van across from my Captain Olivia Benson, along with two trained Crisis Counselors from Covenant House, New York. Andrea O'Sullivan and Robert "Bobby J" Rodriquez. "Thanks for coming again with me, Amanda."

My smile is tight as I look back at Olivia there is a sadness in her eyes as we turn towards each other. "You're welcome, Liv, did Kat give any reason as to why she couldn't make it tonight?" "her mom has to work a double, and they couldn't find a babysitter last minute on a Saturday."

"Yeah, I hear that could be hard." Olivia sips her coffee, trying to keep warm. "I never mind helping Captain. Covenant House is such an amazing place Olivia, I'm always happy to volunteer for whatever they need."

"Thank you, detective Rollins we try. It isn't easy when we have 20,494 youth who are homeless." Andy's statement sends tremors down my spine. I try to hide the fact that I am shivering, as a cop, I knew those statistics. The number of homeless children in the United States is at its highest in more than a decade.

I can even break down the statistics that roughly 800,000 children are reported missing each year in the United States that's 2,000 kids who go missing every day in the USA. There are 115 child stranger abduction cases, LGBTQ youth represent as much as 40% of the homeless youth population. Between 1.6-2.8 million youth runaway each year in the United States. Children can begin running as young as ages 10-14. The youngest are the most at-risk for the dangers of street life.

Too many people take the attitude of Children who runaway make their own decisions to go. Let them be, they've made their personal choice and must deal with the consequences. If they want to come home, they will. That is so wrong because once these kids hit the streets, they have hours of reaching an inner-city before they become targets for these pimps. Once the pimps get their hands on these kids, they no longer have a choice. They are property of those pimps, and these monsters would take a bullet before they lose their 'product.' It is estimated that many young people, especially girls, begin engaging in survival sex within 48 hours of leaving home. Sex for food and a place to stay can quickly escalate into formalized prostitution.

I've seen what happens to those kids after becoming branded; they learn quickly to harden themselves and trust no one. The treacherous environment in which they must learn to survive is heartbreaking. They do not always outwardly present as sympathetic victims. They also frequently suffer from short–term and long–term psychological effects such as depression, self-hatred, and feelings of hopelessness. These child victims also need specialized services that are not widely available given they often have illnesses, drug addictions, physical and sexual trauma, lack of viable family and community ties, and total dependence—physical and psychological—on their abusers.

"Amanda, do you want some coffee?" "no, thanks, Liv, I'm good." "Sure you are; that's why I can see those goosebumps on your arms, Rollins." Olivia's left-hand grazes across my left arm, which she has now caused to go stiff in fear. Olivia's touch, smile Liv has no idea how she effects me.

Every hair is standing at attention, my heart racing, face flushed. My brain stutters to find words to respond to Olivia. It should be simple to say those words to tell Olivia how I feel; this is 2020, not 1990. I shouldn't be afraid of rejection to tell someone I have a deep crush on that I have a crush. I've told more than a half of a dozen women in my past that I liked them. I am not ashamed to identify as a lesbian.

Which brings me to question why I haven't confided in anyone I have worked with over the past nine years. Swallow Amanda, just swallow and relax. Olivia has no idea how you feel; she isn't asking you to spill how you feel. She's asking you for a drink stop freaking out you'll look like a fool.

"No, I'm good save the coffee for the kids, they need it more than I do. I'm okay."

"Detective Rollins we have more than enough." that's a lie I know before it even escapes Andy's lips she's just being nice to us since it's rare for cops to volunteer to do ride a long's, the department does not sanction them. 1PP truthfully goes out of their way to discourage us from doing them because they are so dangerous because these pimps could recognize one of us and blow our covers in the future. Sometimes I think they fear we will become too sympathetic with a homeless kid because God forbid NYPD cops be human and understand what life on the streets is actually like; we might let these kids go when indeed we are forced to pick them up for simply trying to stay alive.

Saturday nights are one of the busiest nights in New York City, especially for the homeless population in our impact zones. Turning down Bleeker Street, which is alive with nightclubs blaring music. Flashing neon signs obnoxiously calling out $2 dance bars—other signs signaling their bars, clubs, stores. Panhandlers line every corner, many with bloodshot eyes, sniffling noses, and scanning the crowd from our blackened windows. I can see swindlers working in pairs trying to rob the tourists who unsuspectingly stroll among them the glittering, neon buildings. Many are walking with cell phones out, looking for directions.

Olivia and I both exchange a look knowing half of them will be robbed. There's so much we both want to say but don't. Drug deals go down in plain sight to the untrained eye. It would be easily missed, in between the blaring lights and smells of Colombian bakeries, beauty salons, Mexican restaurants, and bars like the Gentlemen's Club advertising beautiful female dancers. People along this stretch of road hand out business cards emblazoned with half-naked women or fruits and flowers all that advertise "Free Delivery" and typically list the hours of operation between 10:30 a.m. and 2:30 a.m. It's a cover, of course, the cards are marketing tools of brothels that have set up shop inside private homes and apartments.

As the hour is growing later, the tourists are fading away; the clubs are starting to shut down, and the other Christopher Street, the one never mentioned in magazines, or featured on the nightly news and morning talk shows comes alive. This is our Christopher Street teens strutted past in the dark, often stopping to air kiss, catcall, or sometimes brawl.

Young LGBTQ youth in platform thigh-high boots, buttocks-revealing denim shorts, red-pleather boleros with matching caps and tops of the backless, sleeveless, or even frontless variety, those on the nightly parade here do anything but hide. They compete for best outfit, /best moves in nightly dance battles that rage beside the Hudson River to the sound of a boombox on the pier at the end of the street.

The teens are beautiful, but the night-life here is ugly, violent, and scary; the teens themselves often fight turning violent. Customers drunk throw glasses, bottles, or try to take the girls, ripping hair out, beating them. Not every person working is trying to cause problems; of course, there are many just trying to get by to pay rent that now topples over $3,000. I can barely afford my apartment in Brooklyn with my salary.

Cops are lining every street, but we are not here as cops Olivia and I are riding with the covenant house team to help them reach the kids whoa re too afraid to find Covenant House or don't know that help exists. We are reaching to find kids who need food, warmth, and shelter. We provide sandwiches, beverages, ears to the kids if they are ready to tell their stories.

In the van we provide education about sex, pregnancies, STD prevention, we give them condoms. We let them cry, scream, ask questions, or sit in silence; we let the kids choose what they need when they need it. Many have never been given a choice of anything in their lives. We gain the kids' trust and, when ready, we will get them to our crisis shelters, where they're given love and support to permanently stay off the streets. Some stay only a few days and decide they aren't ready to give up the life they know. They have to be willing to be drug-free and make other commitments to stay at Covenant House. Some, however, remain with Covenant House and complete the whole program.

Frequently it takes multiple interactions before the kids will trust those of us on the outreach team enough to accept our offers of help they've simply been burned by adults too many times in their lives.

"So Captain Benson, my boss tells me you've been coming on these rides along's since you joined SVU in 1999. Any specific reasons?"

Andy's question perks my interests in the nine years I have known Olivia; I have never known the answer to this question myself. For the first six years, when I went on these outreach trips, I never knew she went along. I only found out three years ago when we were paired together by accident on a night when they had more volunteers than vans. I never asked myself for fear of having to answer the same question back; it's a part of my past. I have kept hidden for many years. I have no intention of starting to share that story now.

"I was on the job about two months with Special Vics when we came across the case of a fourteen-year-old girl who we had to arrest for selling drugs to her classmates, sometimes in exchange for sexual favors. The whole Squad called her Spoiled Sally because she came from the upper west side, went to a private school. She had all the advantages of a rich kid, yet she chose to squander her life by selling drugs."

"You thought there was more to her story though, Olivia, didn't you?"

"You know me well, Amanda." Olivia has no idea how well I know her how I have spent my whole adult life, and most of my teens years studying her career trying to be half the cop she is. Olivia has no idea that I listen to every conversation hoping to gather a new detail I didn't know already. I know her favorite, color, movie, TV show, her worst fears, her dreams. I know which ice cream flavor she likes best, her favorite spot for ice cream, who her favorite baseball team is, and which sport she hates the most. I know Olivia uses vanilla body lotion but hates vanilla ice cream.

My body shivers despite being June. The temperature is dropping fast the later it gets. "I did think there was more, so I started investigating further. Interviewing her friends, teachers, classmates. Came to learn Sally transferred schools six times over the last year, she had moved from city to city since she was six years old."

Olivia bites her lower lip as she laughs slightly "Amanda you'll love this part, my boss told me to drop it, or he would transfer me, I couldn't drop it, I defied his orders and kept digging. I matched her picture into enhanced facial recognizing came to discover our Spoiled little Sally was Marcella Marginals, a kidnapped girl from Mexico who vanished at age six when her family was on vacation over there. They let go of her hands for two minutes, and she was snatched. Marcella was smuggled into different cities by different men. Who caged her up like an animal beat her raped her, sold her from family to family."

"This last family was an elderly couple who never had kids of their own; the man who sold her to them kept weekly checks on her forced her to sell drugs for him. Raped her weekly to keep her in-line raped the wife weekly to keep the parents quite. When we went to collect Marcella, the bastard was there raping the wife, the husband an 82-year-old man who could barely move was tied to the chair. A battle broke out between the police and the pimp, Marcella was shot in the battle, by my gun. I was devastated. I felt as if it was my fault if I had left it alone, as my boss told me. Marcella would be alive no matter how hard her life was, at least she drew breath. Because of me, that sweet girl was dead."

"All my co-workers kept telling me it wasn't my fault; it was just part of the job. I had to accept it as God's plan. I couldn't though, I mean, how did God see that to be fair? How could any God justify a fourteen-year-old girl being raped, beaten suffering every day as okay?"

"So I headed to my favorite bar to get there I had to pass the Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church, I wasn't raised in any dominant religion growing up, but I felt drawn to it. I felt like I needed to talk to God, to let him know how angry I was at him."

"At first, all I could do was sit there, staring at the candles, the altar, tears running down my face. I have no idea how long I sat there for; till I felt the gentle touch of Sister Mary Rose McGeady, she sat by me and listened to me. Then she said something to me that has stayed with me my whole life; she replied ours is not to ask God why; ours is simply to close our eyes and listen to our hearts, and believe God always has a reason why. It's hard at times, but I made a promise to God to listen; he has to lead me to my calling to help kids on the street, his kids."

"As you know at the time, Sister McGeady was the president of Covenant House from 1990-2003. She took me to the house and showed me the center; I spoke to counselors, volunteers, and the kids themselves. I fell in love with the mission, with the kids the staff. I knew I had to try to make a difference."

"I started doing the outreach van around 12 years ago, at first, it was just because it was always so short-staffed, not many people volunteer to do something so dangerous. Then it became another passion for me."

I reach over and take Olivia's hand "you know Marcella's death wasn't your fault, Liv. No more than Easter's was mine."

"I know Amanda, up here, I know that." She points to her head, "But in here." Olivia's hand moves to her heart. "that takes reminding I am sorry I couldn't comfort you after telling you about Easter, I should have held you talked to you instead of getting up and walking away. The memories of that day hit me so hard; I think I am moving on, and then I am hit with a wave of guilt so intense it takes my breath away."

"Liv, it's okay. I needed my Captain than you did what I needed. You gave me time to cry, scream you stayed in the room, so I knew you were there, but you gave me privacy. No one can take someone else to pain away. But having you in that room brought me comfort."

Olivia smiles at me as Bobby J speaks "You two should come Tuesday for our annual Sleep-out for Covenant House, we have a line-up of stars who are performing and over 1,000 people who have signed up to raise money for our kids by sleeping out."

"Yeah, sounds good, Amanda?" "I'm in for sure."

"So Miss southern sweet tea, what is your story? I know you got one." My body tenses at his suggestion I feel all eyes on me my heart races as my stomach twists. How am I suppose to get out of this one? "Don't be bashful to spill your game." Bobby J nudges me as I fight to keep my nausea from spilling out onto the van's floor. If Olivia knew the truth, she would never look at me the same ever again.

"Help me!" Loud, intense screams ricochet off the buildings in the side-street where we are parked; a young girl comes racing out of the cover of darkness shadow. So fast her legs stumble, but she doesn't allow herself to fall; she can't she's running for her life. Those skinny legs barely hold her body up, yet she hurls herself forward, never glancing back. I can hear her heavy breathing as she approaches "not here." she points to two streets over. Eyes glance at us. I see the pain and fear "My man he's watching he'll see me get in, I'm dead then, he'll know where to find me."

She's gone in a flash, hurling her skinny body down the side streets in a race for her life, dodging into different avenues. The van squeals to life as our driver Michelle steps on the gas, the girl's arms pump flying as she dodges cars, people she isn't quitting or playing. It's pitch black out here now except the glow of a few broken street lights.

Michelle flips off our headlights as we reach the street the girl wanted us to, we sit in silence the radio shut off now. Our heartbeats are the only sounds slowly. I get out my legs a little shaky from being crouched in a van for hours. Olivia follows me closely behind as seconds tick into minutes both of us praying her man as she called him didn't find her, which we know damn well means her pimp. Rustling has us both turning around I spot her first she comes running full speed towards us, fooling her pimp she had run around the block twice; New York blocks ain't no joke either, they are long.

This girl is in eight-inch heels her feet must hurt so bad I feel tears well up I can barely walk in those types of heels nerve mind run. The girl is only twenty- yards away from us. I can see the depth of fear in her cyan blue eyes. An ocean deep of pain she is so close to safety just within feet of being saved Olivia and I are both tense ready to grab her up. The squeals of tires alert us to a sense of danger; I don't think twice I take off "Rollins!" Olivia yells as I pump my legs harder than they have ever been pumped before. Hoping that this girl can see it in my eyes that she can trust me, she can reach better days if she reaches out, allows me to take her hands. Gets in this van with me, I can help her find the sunshine behind these rainy days. Sometimes one person can make a difference. I close my eyes every day I pray I can be that person.

My hands reach the girl at the very last second my lungs are screaming in pain, I can barely breathe my muscles are straining with every-step. "Grab my hands, don't let go no matter what I got you." My arms wrap around the girl's frail body as my feet make a sudden turn burning my heels. I pull her body racing to the van as doors fly open. "Rollins, get down!" Olivia screams as a hail of bullets rain down on us I push the girl into the van slam the door and bang on it. Michelle takes off my legs give out as I crash to the ground Olivia is returning fire. I can't breathe or think my legs are twitching in pain I can feel my blood filling my mouth as I start to cough.

I can't seem to focus on anything. Every breath is harder to inhale and exhale. "Amanda, it's Olivia we've got to move, they took off, but they'll be back we just cost them a major investment. Can you move at all?"

Olivia's arms lift me pain stabs me at every angle it's mild though so after a few breaths I can put pressure on my legs she doesn't let go of my arm though pulling me along with her as we race to meet the van a few blocks over. Sweat pours down my body as my stomach cramps I feel flushed. I'm losing blood I can feel how weak I am, but I have no idea where or how serious it is. "Amanda that was stupid as hell, we are off-duty you know the department does not cover any injury you get, any action you take as a citizen which means you face the same charges they face. No union rep to cover for you."

"Yeah, I know Liv, and it also means I don't have to play by the rules."

"Amanda, it doesn't mean you get to risk your life."

"It's mine to risk Olivia, and if you ain't willing to risk your life, why are you out here?"

"Uh! Why are all the bad-asses so damn stubborn!"

"That's what makes us hot."

"Yeah, I know that's why the bad-asses like you are always the one who looks the most fuckable."

My ears ring did Olivia Benson just say she wanted to what with me? I stop moving physically, yet my Vertigo didn't get the message. I can't speak all I can do is stare at Olivia, watch her long legs so muscular her statuesque frame so lean and beautiful, long dark hair loosely held back with a decorative clip. Her appearance takes my breath away. She smiles as she slowly moves us towards the van.

All I can do is picture her lying on top of me on her bed as she places her mouth over my clit. A direct hit, her gorgeous lips closing around it and lapping at it with her tongue. Her hands hold my hips as I try to buck against her face; she is a master at getting me off like this. I can feel an orgasm building in my walls, I can feel the heat rising as I writhe under her face, and just as she is about to push me over the edge, she inserts a single slender finger inside as she does I feel the first wave of fire rising and spreading through me. I come hard onto her hand as she rapidly pumps two fingers in and out while she sucks on my clit.

"Amanda, move!" My head peaks up from the daydream of Olivia, and I making love seconds too late as the car comes speeding towards us headlights as bright as the Georgia summer sun. Michelle rushes towards us, Andy and Bobby J throw open the doors. "Get in!" Olivia's hands push my body into the van's. I feel Andy and Bobby grab me pulling my limp body up as Olivia screams at Michelle. to"Go."

Wait, where is Olivia going? Why didn't she get in with me? Gunfire fills the air as I try to stand but am thrown back against the wall hard as Michelle takes off, tires squealing. "Calvin!" I hear Olivia's scream as my head slams into the floor, sending me crashing into a world of blackness. All I can do is pray; God keep Olivia safe.

A/N: For More information on how you can help Covenant House and Homeless Youth visit their website

Our Youth deserve a kinder, better world than the one we have today. Let us commit to building this world together. https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13643440/1/Covenant-From-The-Heart

#svu #Rolivia #AmandaRollins #OliviaBenson #HomelessKids #Youth #LGBTQ #Fanfiction