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vulpinesaint · 4 years

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Nyctophobia - Ch. 9

Sebastian trusts one person entirely and completely-and it certainly isn’t the strange boy who washed up on the shore of his island kingdom.

After a disastrous turn of events, however, the pair are forced off on an adventure through a land that neither of them know anything about. With a bard, a spy, and maybe a bit of magic, they’ll have to fight hard to get back home…

Wherever home is.

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Chapter Nine - The Prince In The Cell

The town jail—or the guard house; it was one of the two and Sebastian didn’t have enough experience with either to tell which one—only had a few cells. Sebastian ended up in one, behind stone walls and a wooden door with a space cut out for a few metal bars. He was isolated from the world, save for sound, with only a cot and a chair. They hadn’t told him anything about why he was there; just separated him and Robin and put him in a cell.

He was decidedly unfond of the situation. He felt trapped.

A guard opened the door. She looked as if she might’ve been in charge—she certainly carried herself with more decorum than the other guards Sebastian had come into contact with. She looked around Marianna’s age. Maybe a bit older. Sebastian glared at her, mistrusting, as she entered the cell.

Upon arresting them, the guards had taken his and Robin’s things, among them his mother’s dagger. They’d also taken one of his knives when they’d caught him trying to pick the lock with it earlier on. This all left him with only one blade, the odds of which he did not like.

“What am I doing here?”

The guard exhaled, closing the door behind her. One hand rested on the hilt of her sword. “I could ask you the same thing, kid.”

Sebastian glared harder.

The guard pulled the chair over in front of the wooden cot and sat down. “Sit down,” she told him, gesturing to the cot. “We’re going to have a conversation.”

Sebastian said nothing in response. The guard sighed and turned the chair to face him, bracing her elbows on her knees. “Look. Here’s the situation. You match the description for a couple of criminals that the Queen’s issued and official warrant of arrest for. You and your friend, I mean. Our men might have been a little quick in arresting you, but you match the description almost exactly. Now—hold on—” she held up a and as Sebastian opened his mouth to protest. “There’s something I want to know. See, the Queen didn’t say anything about what exactly these criminals did, and the men and I are all awfully curious. Either way, you’ll be turned into the capital for imprisonment or execution or what have you, but we’ll treat you nicer if you let us in on your secret. Sound good?”

The word execution rang in Sebastian’s mind. He was being falsely accused. Him and Robin both. His thoughts raced. “That’s impossible. There’s no reason for my companion or I to be arrested.” Might was well try for the truth, before anything else.

The guard raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh, really? Because to me, you look awfully similar to—” from her pocket, she produced a piece of paper, and began to read. “Two young men, late teens to early twenties, both with brown hair. One tall, near six foot, green eyes, and one slightly shorter, with blue eyes.” She paused, and glanced down meaningfully at Sebastian’s boots. “Odd clothing or mannerisms. Got the report just this morning, actually. And then you two showed up.” She folded the paper and tucked it back into her pocket.

Sebastian’s expression didn’t betray his alarm. He kept his expression schooled as he racked his brain for any reason that the queen of this country would know about himself and Robin. They’d stolen from someone, but that man couldn’t have pinpointed them as the thieves, and there was no reason for the queen to be involved. It had to be someone else fitting their descriptions. “I’m sure you have the wrong people.”

The guard hummed a reluctant agreement. “Well. I wasn’t entirely convinced, at first, either; but that weapon and that partner of yours certainly aren’t helping your case.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Royal indignance started to creep into Sebastian’s tone.

“Well, to start, not many people have daggers like yours. Especially not the one in your bag, and the one that you pulled out of nowhere to try and pick the lock.” She tilted her head, smiling at Sebastian. A false sweetness honeyed her expression. “Care to tell me more about that?”

Sebastian did his best not to let his expression budge when she mentioned the dagger. “The sapphire knife is a family heirloom.” No real lies. Not yet. “The other is for protection.” He still had one of his daggers, in his right boot; he could kill the guard then and there and attempt an escape. His mind ran through the scenario several times before he bitterly accepted that he’d probably be overwhelmed by guards the minute he was out the door.

He still didn’t know why any of this was happening, and to be frank, he was panicked—though he was good at hiding it, even from himself. That was what he’d been doing since landing on the damned beach. He’d been caught for a crime he hadn’t committed, and his weapons, apparently, were conspicuous—skies, what kind of idiotic people didn’t carry any kind of protection with them? Since when was self-defense considered criminal? Stupid people, stupid guard, stupid continent—

“Oh, really?”

Sebastian decided to switch tactics. Build up a lie. Hope for the best. Hope they’d seem innocent. Any further with the truth, and he’d have to tell them where he was from, and he sincerely doubted that any of the idiotic mainland people would believe that he was a prince from an island that none of them had ever heard of. “We’re travelling. There are thieves on the road, you know.”

“And where are you and the other young man travelling to?

He shrugged. “Up the coast.”

That seemed to throw the guard for a moment. “Up the coast? Toward the capital?”

Sebastian had no idea where the capital of this damned, cursed country was, but he went along with it. “Yes. Toward the capital.”

“And why would that be, exactly?”

Sbeastian kept his expression schooled. He knew how to lie, to come up with something believable on the spot. It would’ve been easier if he knew how anything in te damned kingdom functioned, but he did his best. “We’re seeing the question. Thought it would be a nice trip, going up the coast.”

The guard nodded, but didn’t seem to believe him in the least. “Hmm. Well. There’s still another problem.”

“And what would that be?” He couldn’t escape his conspicuous clothes, but he’d provided a viable explanation for everything else, he felt. He didn’t know why he had the compulsion to lie his way out of all of it. He felt trapped. He wanted out.

“Your companion, there—well, it’s almost comical how much he looks like his wanted poster.”

Sebastian’s guard slipped. “His wanted poster?”

The guard produced another piece of paper from her pocket, and unfolded it. “We’ve had this one for a while, actually. Couple of months. Long enough that Jenson must’ve recognized your little friend.” She turned the paper to show Sebastian, and he was so startled by the striking likeness of Robin on the paper that he didn’t get a chance to read the charges against him before the guard folded the paper back into her pocket.

“I might’ve been willing to believe that you didn’t know about his crimes. But with a warrant out against the both of you? I can’t see how there’s a chance in hell you’re innocent, kid.”

“He wouldn’t—” Sebastian started, the confused outburst escaping him before he had the chance to consider it. Bad move. A slip-up.

The thoughts he’d been having those past few days clicked in his head. The musings over Robin’s past life. What if he’d really been a thief?

A hint of confusion slipped into the guard’s expression, but it disappeared after a moment. “Look, kid. I’m giving you a chance to confess, here.” She sounded kind, compassionate; Sebastian might’ve been convinced by it if he hadn’t been surrounded by liars his whole life.

He changed tactics. He drew himself up, lifted his chin, and gave the guard his iciest royal stare, the one that told the people around him that he had status. He’d learned it from his mother. He used to watch her staring down at the nobility, and he’d practice the expression in mirrors, in the reflective surfaces of crowns and blades. “I have nothing to confess.” He told the truth, but it felt like keeping up an act, rather than defending himself.

The guard studied his face. She was older than him—not old enough to be his mother, but maybe an aunt, or an older sister. Sebastian had never known any of his family members. His mother had been an only child, and her parents had died rather early on. His father’s family, the royal side, had been as resilient as his father himself when it came to surviving attacks. He’d never seen more than the occasional portrait of any of them.

“I think you’re making a mistake here, kid. This is your last chance at leniency.” The guard leaned in closer, elbows resting on her knees and hands clasped. Sebastian held his ground. “If you won’t cooperate, we’re not going to be so nice when we take you off to the queen tomorrow.”

“Maybe the queen can tell me what I’ve done.” He’d almost said ‘your queen’. He detested this place.

The guard laughed, short and almost sympathetic. “Brave. The queen’ll filet you alive.” With that, she stood and left the cell. She didn’t even bother to keep an eye on Sebastian as she opened the door. He felt irrationally insulted.

The rest of that day was spent pacing the cell. He didn’t sit down on the cot, but he did jump up on the chair a few times when he was sure nobody was around. He didn’t want to relax. It felt wrong.

Nobody fed him, and his stomach grumbled a number of times—they hadn’t been eating that well since landing, and he wished desperately for good food, while cursing the idiotic guards that were stopping him from eating.

As he sat, waiting for morning, waiting for whatever would happen, he thought a few things over. Most importantly, how he would escape—whether he could pick the lock with his remaining dagger, whether he would be caught if he tried, whether he would be able to get Robin out if he were to take that route.

Something in his mind reminded him that it would be a hell of a lot easier to just leave Robin and go without him. Something else, fond and fierce, violently quashed that thought. He couldn’t leave Robin. Robin trusted him, Robin was dependent on him—he’d promised himself that he would protect him. No way in hell was he going to leave him to the whims of some guards.

Especially now that he’d seen that wanted poster.

That was the other thing on his mind. Robin had done something. And the two of them, at least two people who looked like them, had done something bad enough to have a warrant issued by the queen. Sebastian had no idea what was going on, and it frustrated him to no end, made him want to scream and throw the chair against the wall and cry.

He staunchly ignored the impulse to cry. He kicked the chair against the wall. Nobody came in to check on him, so he glared at the piece of wood and left it on its side. There was a jagged crack in the wood. He felt a little better.

He couldn’t help but think that maybe this was some sick sort of reversal of his and Robin’s situations. Robin had been pulled into Sebastian’s life, into danger and uncertainty, through no fault of his own. The opposite was happening to Sebastian now.

The sun set, and his mind had made no real progress. All he’d been able to settle on was that there really was something to the little things he’d noticed about Robin—the quiet movement, the easy theft, the way he could hide his emotions so naturally, the unease at sleeping in one room for too long. There was something to connect it all, some common thread in the shifty tapestry. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.

Night fell. He could hear crickets outside. There was no light in the cell. He stood by the door, at full attention, waiting for any sign of movement. He hated being stuck. He hated feeling unprepared. He hated feeling trapped.

The sound of boots approached his cell door, hours later, in what must have been the middle of the night. Sebastian perked up. There was no reason for a guard to come to the cell, this late, unless he’d severely misjudged the time, and he was being taken to the queen of this awful, horrid kingdom.

Maybe it was Robin. Maybe he’d gotten out, gotten keys; he’d held his own in the escape from the castle, and Sebastian knew he could steal, so—

Keys turned in the lock, and the door opened to reveal a guard; the same one who had arrested them earlier. Sebastian’s heart fell. Robin’s footsteps had always been quieter.

“Hey, there, prisoner.” The guard grinned, baring pearly white teeth. His sword was drawn, and trained on Sebastian’s neck.

Sebastian couldn’t see any hint of sincerity in the man’s expression. He lifted his chin, as regal as he could be, daring an attack, and glared back.

“Got a proposition for ya,” the guard continued, undaunted by Sebastian’s response (or lack thereof). “See, we don’t get paid that well. And I couldn’t help but notice this pretty little silver-blue dagger with your things. Quite the weapon, isn’t it?”

Sebastian refrained from using his remaining knife at that point, but glared daggers nonetheless.

The guard kept on. “So. Here’s my deal for you. I’ll let you out, give you your stuff, and you can be on your way. You give me that pretty dagger in exchange. You get your freedom, the rest will assume that you took the weapon, and I get something nice for myself. Everyone wins.”

“No.” Steel braced Sebastian’s tone. There was no way in hell he was giving up his mother’s dagger. It was precious. Valuable. It was—

Well. It was the last thing he had of her.

“Oh, come on, kid,” said the guard, who really didn’t look that much older than Sebastian himself. Sebastian positively bristled at his patronizing tone. “It’s not like you have much choice in the matter. I may not know what you did, but I know you’re guilty. Either you get out now or you get convicted, and you won’t get your precious dagger back anyway.”

A long pause. Silence. “Fine. Let me out.”

The guard lowered his sword, and stepped aside, and Sebastian stepped out of the cell. It already felt easier to breathe.

The guard led the way to the door of the jail, or guard station, or whatever it was called, and gestured to Sebastian’s pack, where it sat by the door. He must’ve placed it there beforehand. There was a smugness in his grin, and with the placement of the pack, he’d obviously been certain that his plan would work; there was a surety, an egotistical confidence to it all, and Sebastian absolutely detested it.

“There you are, mystery man. You can be on your way, now.” A hint of silver-blue flashed in the guard’s hand, in his pocket, and Sebastian tensed. Then something else occurred to him.

“Where’s my companion?”

The guard looked entirely satisfied in himself. Sebastian didn’t have the words to describe how much he hated him in that moment. “Your little ‘companion’ wasn’t part of the deal, kid. Either you go on without him or you stay here in a cell.”

Sebastian’s glare was icy as he bent to pick up his pack from its demeaning place on the floor, and he kept it trained on the guard the whole time. His hand rested on the top of his boot.

Sebastian had been fighting for a long time. He’d been training with sharp weapons since he was a child, and he knew how to use them, knew how to use his body, to move fast and defeat opponents. The guard obviously didn’t have those same advantages. Sebastian had a blade to his neck and a hand around the hilt of the man’s sword before the shock had even begun to set in.

“Where are your keys?” he hissed, and when the guard muttered some incoherent, fearful answer, Sebastian ordered him to hand them over.

“Now, take me to my friend.”

Keys in hand, knife to the guard’s neck, Sebastian felt better than he had in a while. This was a plan. This was action. This was him, having control, having agency; he could do something. He was saving Robin. He reveled in it as they walked to Robin’s cell.

The guard walked slowly, silent, trying to maintain composure. Sebastian had met this kind of man before. They all possessed a certain brand of cockiness, a self-surety, and they all, inevitably, feared death above all else.

When the guard pointed out the cell, Sebastian confirmed, nodded, and plunged his dagger into the man’s throat, twisting it sharply. He’d still have to wait for him to die, but at least he wouldn’t be able to scream for help.

The guard made a gargling sound and dropped to the floor. Sebastian flicked his hand away sharply to get some of the blood off and turned to unlock the door to Robin’s cell.

Robin hadn’t slept, either, and he looked tired and on-edge, but seeing him felt like a breath of fresh air. Sebastian did his best to ignore the look on Robin’s face when he saw the still-dying guard.

“C’mon. We have to go.” Sebastian considered crushing the throat of the guard further, but then decided that having blood on his boots would not be helpful if he were to get caught again. He stepped around the forming puddle and knelt, retrieving his mother’s dagger from the guard’s pocket. He felt much better with it in his possession. It didn’t quite fit, but he slipped it into his boot.

Robin had emerged from his cell, and picked his way around the guard. He didn’t look happy about it, but he didn’t say anything. Sebastian offered his hand. He wouldn’t admit it to himself, but it was a nice reassurance, to know that Robin was there. After a moment, Robin took it. Sebastian led the way out of the little complex. He was still missing a dagger, but he didn’t have time to go poking around while they might still have gotten caught.

At the door, Sebastian stopped to put his pack on his shoulder, and they made it outside, into the moonlight and the fresh air. The place they’d been held was just outside town, up on a hill; there was a lovely view of the moon and the town. He would have stopped to just… sit, and revel in his freedom, but he was still anxious about being caught.

Even if he had stopped, he wouldn’t have lost much time.

“Stop!”

Sebastian and Robin both whirled around, dropping each other’s hands. Another guard—the tall, broad-shouldered one who’d helped in arresting them—stood with his sword at the ready. “Look, nobody has to get hurt,” he said, glancing between them with a reticence that gave Sebastian pause. “But I can’t let you go. Come with me.”

Robin took hold of Sebastian’s wrist and whispered to him. “Let’s just run.”

“He’ll call for backup. I have to make sure he won’t call anyone.” Sebastian handed his things to Robin.

“Sebastian—” Robin started, but Sebastian was already moving, determined to leave no loose ends.

“You can still go back to your cells,” the guard said, as Sebastian walked toward him. “There doesn’t have to be a fight. I don’t have to call anyone else out here.” His sword was leveled at Sebastian’s chest, and his hands tightened around the grip. Sebastian kept his pace even. He knew how to fight off a sword-user with his daggers. He’d had enough practice with one to feel fairly confident.

A problem presented itself, however, in his weapons. Usually, two daggers provided a defense and an attack, but he only had one, and his mother’s blade was much smaller than what he was used to. It certainly looked more ceremonial than practical, and while it could do damage, it didn’t look strong enough and certainly not long enough to block a sword if it needed to. The last thing Sebastian wanted to do was ruin his mother’s dagger for one stupid fight. He opted to only use the one in his hand. He would be fine. The other guard didn’t seem to have much going for him, combat-wise, so this guard would probably be the same. Didn’t seem like people fought much over here, anyway.

Knees bent, like a cat ready to strike, Sebastian moved into the range of the sword. He had to get close enough to land a hit. Possibly two. The guard struck first—a swing at the shoulder that Sebastian was able to block—and then he was close enough. He aimed a stab at the guard’s neck, but it was blocked. Another swing from the sword. He dodged back out of reach as the blade surged towards his torso, then, as the guard was recovering, darted back in to strike again. The guard raised his sword. That would be easy to block, he thought, and slipped under an arm and drove his blade into the area where he would find the guard’s heart. He pulled away with a rush of victory, breathing harder, though the fight wasn’t over. He’d landed a strong hit. It would be easier from then on.

He’d been too confident.

Blinding pain shot through his left shoulder, and he barely registered the sword through the pain and then the feeling of blood seeping into his clothes. A flash of metal pulled away from it as the solid figure of the guard staggered back.

The pressure of hands appeared on his left arm and right shoulder, and Sebastian tried to jerk away before he registered that it was Robin, solid and gentle and pulling him away from the guard.

“Come on, Sebastian. Let’s just go,” Robin pleaded, shifting his grip from his left arm to around his waist when he hissed in pain.

“He’s not dead yet,” Sebastian insisted, fighting tears and not feeling the pain all at once. “I have to finish it.”

“No, you don’t,” Robin said, firmer this time. “We have to run. Come on.”

Sebastian protested again, but Robin pulled him away, out into the night. He gave in after a few more minutes, unable to focus on the pain and protest all at once. They broke into a run, Sebastian holding onto his arm to try and keep it from moving too much, and Robin pulling him along. Over his shoulder, Sebastian saw the guard make his way across the doorstep of the guard house, and heard him call for help.

It took a moment for the other guards—the woman from before, and one that Sebastian didn’t recognize—to run outside. By the time that they did, Sebastian and Robin had made it down the hill, and were running across the town towards where they’d left their horse.

The guards called for someone to stop them, but Sebastian could barely hear it over the pounding in his head and of his feet against the cobblestone. He saw people emerging blearily from houses and storefronts, but he and Robin were past them before they had any opportunity to stop them.

He could have sobbed with relief when he saw that the horse was still there. Robin let go of Sebastian and ran to untie the animal. Once that had been done, he pulled himself up, helping Sebastian up after him. Once Sebastian was holding onto Robin, probably getting blood all over the other young man, Robin gave a sharp “Hyah!” and they rode off into the darkness, leaving the yelling of the guards to fade into the background.

oh, boy. long wait, huh?

at least this probably had enough action to make it a little bit exciting. are you guys intrigued? tell me what you think!

also, people tell me to stop hurting sebastian, but i gotta tell you that it’s not gonna stop anytime soon. either way, i mean, i already killed his mom, so i’m not sure there’s much worse i could do to him. just saying.

anyway! i’ll try and be a little faster on the next update. no promises, though :)

see you guys next update *finger guns*

~ Love from Rai ~

TAGS: @virgils-jacket , @nemothesurvivor , @deathshadowrules , @yayroos , @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars , @rainykingdoms

(let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

#nyctophobia #chapter nine #original writing #creative writing #fantasy

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mileycfan4eva33 · 4 years

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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

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maxximillian · 7 years

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Phenibut—the mood-enhancing nootropic smart-drug (that I finally gave a try)

Phenibut just might be your new wingman (or wingwoman)

After hearing accomplished people rave about them for months, I found myself a reputable distributor and bought myself some smart drugs—drugs made especially (and with care) for my brain.

There were a lot of nootropics to choose from but I had a specific scenario which I was seeking to see if I could improve so it was easy to narrow it down to Phenibut.

As you may know (and if you didn’t you now know!) that I am the host of three podcasts, two are fiction—audio drama—podcasts. I perform these works—yes, I do all the voices—and I engineer myself. I’m coming to the close of my first year, which is to say that I’ve recorded and produced an episode of either comedic or suspense fiction every week for the past 49 weeks. Some of those episodes are over an hour long. I have experimented with a few different methods of production but early on I realized that the best (read: most efficient) way to produce an episode is to spend a minimal amount of time editing so, unlike my audio drama brethren who record a number of takes then choose the best take to edit into the mix, I rehearse my episode and perform it straight through. I sometimes mispronounce a word, and when I do—just as an engineer would—I roll back to just before the flub, hit play then tap the red button to record to punch myself in at the point where I left off, leaving no trace of a break in dialogue. Over the year, I’ve learned to come in on the middle of a phrase with the appropriate inflection—you can never tell when you’re listening where I may have broken off to correct a mistake but it’s a better experience for me not to mess up in the first place. It allows me to lose myself in the piece and really get into the emotionality of what’s going on in the story. Some sessions run more smoothly than others. That is to say that some days my reading is more fluid than others. I’m doing what I love so there’s no such thing as a ‘bad’ day but I have wanted to feel more in control of my performances. Before many performances I feel anxious or excited. My general solution is to start off the recording session with a big fat glass of red wine… and then maybe another. Which works. It’s a lovely thing: wine. I love it. (You too, right?) Here’s the thing about wine, too much turns my reading pear-shaped. After a few glasses I might as well hang it up. So you can see, for some of those longer episodes—or on days where I record more than one episode, wine isn’t a viable solution.

Enter Phenibut.

I’d heard about it mostly from people who were using it in social situations as an alcohol replacement—it’s reported to give that same calming mood lift and genial sociability that I could expect from a couple drinks. Since a couple drinks is what I generally have to smooth out my performance anxiety, I thought I should give it a try. After reading literally a hundred or more reviews, I decided to place my order from LiftMode. Why? LiftMode had mostly five-star reviews. Repeated in each of the reviews were comments that their orders had arrived quickly—a big green check mark in my book. Some customers left video reviews on YouTube—yes, I looked on YouTube for reviews! I found several unboxing vids of LiftMode customers showing off their wares. The packaging was clean and packed with obvious care. Plus, the product reviews all seemed satisfactory—customers seemed enthusiastic about the quality of the products, and the consistency. The LiftMode website is nice to look at and use. It was easy to find what I wanted, explore all their products and place my order. There is a lot of useful information on their website, and there’s even a little box on the side for customer support. I used that box to ask a few questions and received a friendly email from customer support within minutes answering my questions in a way I could understand. Certain beyond a doubt that I’d found a reputable company, I placed my order on liftmode.com. Within a few days a small box came in the mail. It was clean and undented. Inside were all the products I’d ordered with a receipt, a quality assurance report, and a scoop in an appropriate size to accurately measure the product—there was some love and appreciation inside that box too, I could feel it. The recommended dosage for Phenibut varies but the range suggested is from 500mg to 2000mg per day. As with anything employed to achieve a result, it’s best to go with the minimum effective dose. Also, Phenibut has the potential to achieve two effects: nootropic and calming. A larger dose might feel nice but I didn’t want to be too relaxed in my performance, or succumb to the irresistible urge to take a mid-afternoon nap in the sunshine. I dosed 500mg of Phenibut Free Amino Acid. After about 40 minutes I was sure that I was feeling a subtle improvement in my mood but I didn’t experience the other effects I’d read about. I decided to dose larger the next time. The following day I dosed 750mg of Phenibut … and recorded an episode straight through without stopping once to punch myself in.

I was mind-blown.

My read was flawless.

But the thing that impressed me the most was this: the performance had been effortless.

I’ll continue to experiment with my dosage. It may be that 750mg isn’t even my sweet-spot. We shall see. I’ll keep you posted. I’ve heard about Phenibut being helpful to people in social situations and I can personally attest that it is helpful in performance situations too. I tried it again, and again I was able to replicate that same effortlessness in my work. Generally I need to intensely focus to maintain the high-quality concentration required to read long passages aloud without making errors, simultaneously imparting the appropriate emotion and vocal inflection in my narration to keep the listener engaged and be hyper-aware of which of the characters is speaking and about to speak—each character has his or her own cadence and dialect, and I have to keep them clear so that the listener always knows who is speaking. It takes a tremendous amount of focus to do all that while at the same time listening to myself—keeping an ear out for mispronunciations or words spoken too low… there’s more, but you get the idea. For me to flow effortlessly through an entire episode without

stopping seemed like a dream. When I’d reached the end of the recording, the pessimist in me said, “Yeah, but listen back to it and see if you actually did such a great job.” Of course, you’ve heard of the writer or painter who got into some powders or a bottle of good wine and created a masterpiece only to discover the next day that their masterpiece was a piece of sh*t —LOL — hey it happens to the best of us. But guess what?

The next day it was still a masterpiece.

No matter what it is you do throughout your days and nights, I encourage you to give this a try and compare your results experientially. If you paint gnomes for a living, or are a writer like me, or any type of performer certainly—if you do anything that you feel could be easier with enhanced confidence, focus, or cognition, I hope you will give LiftMode’s Phenibut a try. You can buy a sample — which itself will give you between 2-10 doses (depending on the effect you want to achieve) — for less than $5. Here’s the link. As with anything, read the guidelines, ask questions if you don't understand something; use it responsibly—and if you try it, let me know about your awesome experience. Something to consider: Phenibut is available in capsules and bulk powders. If you don't have a .001 gram scale at home and do not plan to invest in one, I suggest choosing the capsules. As you experiment to find your most beneficial dose, you'll want to know exactly how much you're taking so that you can replicate your results once you hit your sweet spot. You don't want to be guessing about what that is — after all, this isn't iced tea mix we're talking about, these are nootropics. The scoop included is helpful but it's a measurement of volume and can at best provide an approximate range of the amount of product in the scoop, and there will always be variations depending on how densely you pack the powder into the scoop and how high you're piling the powder upon the scoop: no scoop can provide you with an accurate measurement the way a scale can. Capsules have the additional benefit of being easy to transport for travel and to consume on the road should you wish to do so. They are also more discreet. The quality of your experience will be the same no matter which you choose. Bulk powder has the advantage of being administered sublingually, which means that you won't have to wait for 30 minutes for the capsules to dissolve in your belly. If you're a mad scientist like me and you do want a scale, consider this one. And if you'd like to take a listen to my fiction podcasts, here they are: The Mollyville Dystopian Suspense Modern Radio Drama and my award nominated Afterlife Paranormal Modern Radio Drama. If you like what you hear, please tell a friend who you think would appreciate it and let me know you're listening. I always appreciate a hello. You can find me on twitter at @maxximillian. Click to Post

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bluebubblewater · 7 years

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Sorry for the long post. :)

This is a breakdown of a post I saw and this is my response to it, issue by issue.

“Okay, it’s time to rant. I am really starting to get fed up with this whole “Women’s rights” thing. What the heck is wrong with women these days?”

Women’s rights is not a “thing” it is a movement for equality between men and women of all ages, ethnicity, belief systems, sexuality, position in society, place of origin, and political beliefs. A movement that has existed for more than 100 years, promoting the rights of all humans beings based on the fact that we are ALL human and not some sub-category that is somehow worth less than another. It is a powerful movement that has enabled women to: vote, own property, choose a spouse, choose to have kids, divorce her spouse, drive, go to school, go to college, press charges against rapists and harassers (both of men and women), work in places of power, effect change, and so much more, the main thing is it has been from this movement that we as women can CHOOSE. What is wrong with women indeed, there are enough struggles we have to face without other women adding to them because of being uninformed.

“Let me get this straight, Trump was voted president, and this ruins your life how? What has he ever done to you?”

The fact that we now have President Trump in office for the next 4 years doesn’t “ruin” our lives but it does have the potential to make them harder and to jeopardize some of our human rights that he thinks we shouldn’t have. In my humble and fairly educated, and constantly evolving, opinion, no one should be able to place a law on what I want to do to MY body, ever. Especially not a bunch of rich, old, white, MEN. My body my choice, would I personally ever choose to have an abortion? Probably not, but I want that choice, because until it has at least a small chance of living outside of my body it is not its own person and is simply part of my body.

“Sure, maybe he insulted women once, but you know what? IT’S NOT THE END OF THE WORLD! “

Our President Trump has insulted women more than just “once” and on more than a “few” occasions. Quite frankly he doesn't seem to see what is wrong with doing so, but thinks/says that it is all in good fun. Here’s a couple quotes that I was told when I was a kid and stuck with me “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all” and “If the person the joke involves isn’t laughing, it isn’t funny”. I don’t find insults to women or anyone really as funny, I find them rude and a good portrait of the person saying it.

“And frankly all women who take THAT much offence to a few insults deserves to be insulted”

“Deserves to be insulted”? Really so if I call some a “bigoted, fascist, egotistical, emotional infant, bitchy bastard of a SOB, mother f*cker” then they have no right to be upset because if they are then they deserve it. Right? Think about that for a bit.

“I am a woman but I don’t care that Trump is president, and Trump has three daughter and a wife, do you see them taking any offence? No!”

I am a woman too, and to be entirely honest I thought we were going to be screwed with whoever became president because none of them were fully a “good” choice. Fact check he has two daughters named Ivanka and Tiffany and has had three wives. And how do you know that they don’t take offense? People around me who don’t know me can’t tell when I take offense unless I either let it show or tell them. Just because they are supporting their father and husband in public does not mean they agree with him in private. Don’t make assumptions, they make you look like an ass.

“Besides, it’s not like Trump is taking away all of our rights, when did he ever say he was going to do that?”

He is cutting funding to Planned Parenthood, which is not just an organization that does abortion. It is an organization that provides information about: Abortion(what it entails and other options), birth control, contraceptives, the importance of body image, general health care that includes testing, screening, vaccines, and exams, etc., men’s sexual health, pregnancy, relationships, sex, sexuality, sexual orientation, gender, STDs and women’s health. All of this important information and services and President Trump is cutting the funding for it. He is trying to overturn the Supreme Court ruling in the Roe v. Wade case where it was decided that women’s right to privacy and therefore abortion is protected under the 14th amendment as long as the abortion happens before the “fetus is viable” meaning it can survive being born. It is a human right and I will fight to protect it. But you have a point he didn’t say he was going to take”away all of our rights” but it starts small and as the saying goes “give an inch they’ll take a mile”.

“So can you guys stop freaking out over EVERYTHING?”

We aren’t freaking out about anything. We are legally voicing our objection to the wrongs committed against us as human beings. We are legally voicing our objection to the proposed laws and ideals that infringe on our human rights.

“And stop with the women’s marches! What exactly do ya’ll think that’s going to do? Get Trump thrown out of office? Nope.”

The point of the women’s march was not about President Trump. It was about equality for everyone and the opportunity for people who support different issues within the realm of equality and human rights to come out and support each other under the banner of Women’s Rights. The march was about standing together and knowing that we are not alone. It was about supporting each other across the world as one people not as sub-people groups. Some people used it as a platform to tell/show the world that we will not allow anyone to oppress us again and to not even try it. Some people used to the platform to oppose President Trump, his beliefs, and plans. Some people used it as a platform to encourage people in countries across the world to fight for their freedom and equality. Some people used it as a platform for pro-choice. Some people used it as a platform for workplace equality and equal pay. It was NOT about Trump, me or you, it is about equality for everyone. Period.

“All it does is prove his point about women and annoy all of the other billion of people who disagree with you!”

I’m sorry how does 3.6-4.6 million people across the globe marching together for equal rights prove his point? Explain it to me. How do you hear about that many people across the world marching together unified in their stance of equality, and think something negative about that?

“(Oh, and btw after you guys did your little march thank you SO MUCH for leaving all of your signs strewn about the streets! I’m sure that there were many female sanitation workers that had to stay out late last night cleaning up after you geniuses ^_^)”

Yes because you know other marches and protests for other issues NEVER leave signs on the road. And yeah there were people who had to pick the stuff up just like they would if there was a parade and they got paid for it. As long as the men and women doing the same job get the same pay, I don’t see an issue.

“Oh, and to be honest, I have no idea what the hell you guys are even marching for!”

Well that has been quite obvious. Maybe look up what you bash before you bash it next time.

“Women’s right?”

Human Rights and Equality.

“God gave us breasts and a uterus so that we could stay home and raise a family while the men worked to provide for us.”

Well if that was the only reason we exist then why are there women and men who physically can’t have children? And don’t give me the “atoning for their sins” crap if that was how it works a whole lot less people could have kids. And news flash! Women have taken an active part in building societies and settlements since the beginning of time. I come from a home where my biological father physically and emotionally abused me, my mom, and my three siblings. He couldn’t keep a job and would quit whenever he felt like it, moving my entire family literally across the nation in his quest of finding a job he would keep. Six states, countless jobs and escalation of physical abuse happened before my mom finally filed for divorce. and he said to my 14yo sisters face that he didn’t want anything to do with us kids. He paid parts of child support for about 2-3 years before he dropped off the map to avoid paying for almost 8 years. He only began paying after he was found and taken to court. So forgive me if I think that “men=provider” and “women=supporter” is fucking bullshit. I was given breasts and a uterus so that I could have sex with the ability to have children if I so choose to. I was given a brain to use to its fullest. I want a career and I don’t really want kids of my own, that may change as I get older but then it will still be MY choice. I will be a provider for myself and anyone else who I decide to bring under my care.

“But now we have the right to vote, to work, run companies and even run for president!”

You say that women have the right to vote, work, run companies and run for public offices as if they were some kind of gifts that we were given. Women and men fought for those rights, human rights that should have been acknowledged in the first place.

“So what more do you want?”

I want to walk alone at night in the city and not have to worry about cat calls and rude gestures from the men I walk by possible evolving into sexual assault because they “think” I am encouraging them by ignoring them. I want the rape culture we have in our Great American Society to change so that we are teaching our boys and men that it is not ok to continue advancing when you have been ignored or told “no” or “go to hell” or “leave me alone”. Instead of teaching our girls to not dress “sexily” or “revealing”. I want my saying “no” to have more weight than me saying “I have a boyfriend” when turning someone down. I want equal pay for equal work. I want equality. Simple.

“Did you know that in Pakistan and certain places of the Soviet Union women are still used as slaves!”

I did know that actually and that is another issue that the women’s march addressed. We want to end inequality everywhere, that does not mean that we make things less equal here so that people don’t feel so bad about the inequality elsewhere. If anything we should continue to push for full equality here in the United States of America so that we can be an example of an equality to the world.

“And that around the world there are women being sold as prostitutes?”

Once again, yes I did know that and yes it is horrible and should be abolished throughout the world. So why do you try and use the women who have it worse off than us, women in America, to put us down, to try and make us submit to men like they are forced to? I will never submit my will to anyone, it is my own as is my body and mind. I will fight for mine and every woman and man’s right to choose what they do with their own body and mind.

“But “Oh no a big bad man told is we’re not allowed to murder our unborn children now we must rebel…”

What the? First why is a man trying to tell me what to do with my body? Second it isn’t alive until it can survive on its own outside of the women’s body, therefore I can’t murder it. If we were going to rebel this would be a small point on the vast canvas of grievances.

“Here’s some advice: Either get over it, or get out of this country.”

Um no, we are in America I can say and believe anything I want to because that is my right, a protected right, as a human being. How about you accept that your opinion is just that an opinion not a fact or law.

“And to be clear, no, I don’t think that Trump is going to be the greatest president there ever was,”

Well looky there we agree on something.

“and did he have to say those things about women? That’s debateable.”

Nope not debatable, no one “has to” say mean things to or about anyone ever. Period.

“But I have faith in him to lead our country right because while nobody is perfect, it’s clear that the good he can do for us outweighs his bad tenfold.”

You’re right no one is perfect and I hope with my whole heart that he will prove me wrong and does more good than bad for this country and the people living in it. I do not think that his “good” plans outweigh the negatives he has said and plans to do, but I don’t compare them as a balance but simply pros and cons.

“And that is all I have to say. And for all of you who disagree with this post feel free to hate me and insult me. I don’t care because I’m not going to take offence…. Thank you.”

I think I am also done. I am glad you won’t take offense to me disagreeing with you but please don’t feel as if I am hating on you or your post, I simply have a very different opinion than you do.

Also, offense is spelt with an -s-.... Maybe while you are checking your facts, check your spelling too.

#feminism #feminist #social equality #equalist #womensmarch

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lizacstuff · 7 years

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Anon Asks - OUAT’s Future

I got busy at work right after the Channing Dunghey interviews started breaking, and the asks piled up a bit, so instead of answering each individually I’ll answer some under the cut

@beka1820 said: One things for certain, Adam is going to be hearing about it tonight on Twitter!!!!!

Oh Beka, I don’t even want to look at his mentions. I’m sure they are crazy, the thing is I don’t know what people might expect him to say.

The show hasn’t been renewed, so he can’t make any reassurances on that score.

He can’t contradict anything the network President might have said, even if he thinks there was something to contradict or correct or clarify.

If the show is renewed they won’t know their exact plans yet, and even if he did he wouldn't comment on them or give reassurances about any of the cast or their future on the show.

To that end, if Robert Carlyle is really leaving at the end of this season, he’s not going to announce that in January on twitter.

Have Colin and Jen said if they're doing season 7? I can't watch this show without the both of them on it

Me either! ;)

The show hasn’t even been renewed for a S7, so, no, the actors haven’t confirmed they are doing it.

However, I take it as a very good sign that both Colin and Jen retweeted the article about A&E having good ideas for a S7, it feels like they’re promoting it because they have a vested interest, which they wouldn’t if they planned on leaving.

Maybe the "new direction" will be a Storybrooke without Regina? And maybe they will actually have to kill her off at the end of S6 to fulfill the end of her arc? I have zero idea if this is a viable possibility, but wouldn't that be interesting?

Oh, hell yes, this would be interesting.

Can you imagine a Regina-less show? No whining or hypocrisy? Wow, that would be amazing and I would love it if the character died. Even if it was heroic and she was saving Henry or something. That would be poignant.

However, i think it’s far more likely that Robert Carlyle is leaving and Rumple will be gone, so its hard to believe they’d have both Rumple and Regina exit stage right at the same time.

Anonymous said:You think Ginny & Josh might leave the show? After Robert, those two are the ones I feel like would leave next.

Robert’s interview the other day combined with this? Yeah, he’s a goner. My guess is that when A&E pitched to ABC they previewed RC leaving and the show giving closure to his storyline and the mythology that has fueled the show for 6 years, and injecting new blood into it.

As for Ginny and Josh. Yes, I think it is a possibility that they could leave. There doesn’t seem to be much story for them. Honestly, I wouldn’t be shocked to hear they are going on recurring status. Perhaps to make guest appearances here and there. Who knows, I have nothing to base that on, just something I could see happening based on which characters I think the show could stand to lose.

Anonymous said:Oh god that article sounds like we're about to go full steam ahead into fanservice or fanon land. I feel so apprehensive right now. I don't like the sound of this at all.

It sounds nothing of the sort. Come on. Take a breath and think critically about what the show is and what it might become. I won’t repeat everything I said in this post here, but I stand by all of it.

This is not about fanon or ships or doing something crazy, it’s about giving the current characters their due, while also trying to keep the universe of Once Upon a Time alive.

Anonymous said:I kind of don't love the idea of a new characters coming in. It feels like our faves already have to fight for screentime as it is right now. Bringing in new characters means something new and shiny for the writers to focus on. Sorry, being pessimistic right now. I do have to say, I LOVE the picture that was used for that article.

I love the picture too! We know which duo gets the most clicks! Our favs!

The truth is that the story of our favs is winding down, probably no matter what. So, to me, a little is better than none.

At this point, my assumption is that Robert and Emilie will be gone and maybe a few others which should free up some screen time.

Time will tell.

Anonymous said: Please don't let this new direction or reset mean SQ. I hate that that thought even enters my brain, but season 6 has put a really bad taste in my mouth and left me very unnerved.

Don’t be silly. I really don’t understand how S6 (CS moving in together, working as a team, Henry accepting Hook as a father figure, Emma going to therapy and realizing what she really wants is to move forward with Hook, Emma watching Hook with I-want-that-man-to-father-my-children heart eyes as he entertains a little girl, looking out for each other’s best interests, tender moments of encouragement and forgiveness where it’s clear that they know each other better than anyone, and can get through to each other better than anyone) makes you unnerved.

What am I missing?

Honestly, there’s no reason to worry from a shipping perspective.. Click here to read my take on what a reset means.

Anonymous said:"heading for its biggest reinvention yet as the show’s main storyline comes to an end this season. “There will be a little bit of closure in this particular narrative regardless of what happens with Season 7." Okay now I'm really scared. Like really scared. I don't like how this sounds, especially after such a lame first half of the season.

I actually don’t think the first half was that bad. It wasn’t great, but I honestly can’t think what was so bad about it that it make you “really scared.” You’ll have to tell me what you’re scared about specifically.

Oh god this talk of reset buttons and a new narrative direction and cast leaving is scary. Reset button? That sounds like ruining what they've built so far. I don't like this articles vibe. I really don't. I'mean concerned.

Really? Read this. Especially the quotes from A&E in the podcast I diligently transcribed for you. ;) That is what they’re thinking. Keeping the show going, but giving the current characters closure and payoff. That doesn’t sound like ruining what they’ve built so far.

That sounds like ending the current stories some time in S7 (which probably means a big send off and happily ever after for CS) while handing the baton to a new batch of characters.

What do you make of the new article out by EW just now and ABC president saying on the OUAT season 7 aspect and narrative?

It’s probably obvious what I think by now, but I think it’s 100% about Robert Carlyle leaving and the show preparing for this:

Interviewer: So we’ve seen a lot of showrunners writing to an end date is that something you have in mind for Once or do you see it going as long as it can?

Eddy: Well I think you know for us there is an end date for stories and characters, but I do also think it’s a show as we said we reinvent every year so at a certain point we do know these character need closure, you know? So we have that in mind and when it is we’ll let you know first.

Interviewer: It also depends on availability of actors eventually and because like you guys mentioned you could keep introducing-

Eddy: Forever

Interviewer: stories forever, exactly.

Adam: Yeah and I think one of our hopes for the show is to be able to provide satisfying closures for these different characters and if some stay or we hand it off to others like we think the world of Once Upon a Time can continue.

Eddy: You know for us I think one of the inspirations was Wonderful World of Disney at 8. To us that is a lot of what this is. So at a certain point Emma needs her happy ending or not happy ending or her closure, but that doesn’t mean the town can’t continue.

#spoilers #some #fandom wank #asklizac #ouat season 7 #ouat reset #anonymous #channing dunghey

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samanthasroberts · 6 years

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Veterans’ grass-roots movement shares health benefits of marijuana

(CNN)To get away from the memories of war in Afghanistan — the violence, the unexpected danger, the rush of adrenaline and the hypervigilance that can come with post-traumatic stress disorder — Aaron Newsom started gardening.

Since World War II, generations of veterans have found healing in horticulture. Digging in the dirt did that for Newsom, but the Marine, who served in an attack helicopter squadron, wanted more. He wanted to share this healing feeling with service members who may never even touch a spade, and he had an idea.

In addition to the public gardening he was doing in Santa Cruz County, California, Newsom kept a secret garden in his home. “I grew medical cannabis for myself in my spare bedroom. I didn’t tell anyone for at least a year,” he said. “When I finally told my mom and dad, with my dad being so conservative, I thought they’d freak out, but they were both totally supportive, because I was growing it for the right reasons.”

Newsom, 35, felt that the plant was a good replacement for the opioids and other drugs the Department of Veterans Affairs doctors put him on for PTSD and severe arthritis. “On those drugs, it wasn’t the quality of life that I wanted,” Newsom said. “With medical cannabis, I had such great success. I could regulate myself and my hypervigilance, and I was able to get off those other pills.”

A friend he met through the nonprofit Farmer Veteran Coalition, fellow veteran Jason Sweatt, shared an enthusiasm for cannabis.When the two met Vietnam veterans hanging out at the VFW, it sparked an idea. Some of the veterans were disabled, and though they also felt that cannabis could helpdeal with their health issues, most had limited income.

“Cannabis is quite expensive, so we knew we could help them out: giving them what we grew,” Newsom said. “And then they told friends who were vets, who told their friends who were vets, and it grew from there.”

This is your brain on pain

In 2011, after Newsom had gone back to Cabrillo Collegeto finish a degree in horticulture science, he and Sweatt made their giveaway official, creating the Santa Cruz Veterans Alliance. Today, members of the alliance grow marijuana, process it and sell it at the group’s successful dispensaries. Ten percent of everything it cultivates goes to its Veteran Compassion Program, which offers free weed to veteranswho have a doctors’ recommendation. (Doctors can only make a recommendation and aren’t allowed to prescribe cannabis or cannabis/hemp derived CBD products because they are illegal according to federal law.)

The alliance is working on its 12th California dispensary license. It says it’s been able to help about 800 vets through the giveaway program. It also employs them in positions such as cultivation, processing and sales; 95% of the veterans it’s hired are on service-connected disability.

Their group is part of a unique movement of vets who are trying to help themselves get through the challenges that come with going to war and living with the consequences.

Veterans disproportionately struggle with mental problems and chronic pain, studies show, and the majority of veterans who have been surveyed say they’d like medical cannabis to be a federally legal treatment option.

In the absence of that option, counseling works for some. Doctors prescribe a mix of opioids and psychotropics for others. But the drugs don’t always work or, in some cases, make problems worse. Veterans are 10 times more likely to abuse opioids than the general population, according to former VA secretary Robert McDonald.

Roughly 20 veterans kill themselves each day, 2016 VA research found, and there’s emerging evidence of a link to chronic pain. Increasing doses of opioids was also tied to increased suicide risk for veterans, according to a study.

Many vets see medical marijuana as a viable option, and the science, while limited, is starting to show promise in combating nerve pain. Researchers are also looking into its impact on PTSD and chronic pain. But some vets don’t want to wait for clinical trials. About 22% now use cannabis to treat physical or mental conditions, according to a recent American Legion survey.

However, the VA cannot advise vets to try medical marijuana, nor can it help them get it because it’s federally prohibited.

Vets also have to pay for it out of pocket, even in states like California where medical marijuana has been legal for more than two decades. At the federal level, it’s illegal and listed as a Schedule I drug, considered to have no medical value, meaning it’s not covered by veterans benefits or regular insurance.

It probably won’t be covered any time soon. Attorney General Jeff Sessions has shown a dislike of the drug. The most recent head of the VA, Dr. David Shulkin, said during last year’s State of the VA speech that “there may be some evidence that (medical marijuana) is beginning to be helpful,” but he was recently fired.

In the absence of federal action, veterans in this grass-roots movement act with urgency.

“We all have friends or family who we have lost to suicide or opioid addiction and can’t wait for other help anymore,” said Seth Smith, a veteran and colleague of Newsom’s at the Santa Cruz Veterans Alliance. “Vets are uniquely suited for this. We are accustomed to operating in the gray areas, and cannabis is a big gray area still, although it is starting to become more mainstream. “This is Santa Cruz, surf city. We are used to riding waves out here,” he said.

Other programs include Weed for Warriors and Hero Grown, which advocates for access and acceptance of medical marijuana. Hero Grown also does giveaways in Colorado and has a national program that ships hemp cannabidiol products to vets and first responders across the nation. Cannabidiol, or CBD, is one of the active ingredients in marijuana and is increasingly thought to have wide-ranging health benefits. Veterans Cannabis Group provides free weed for vets and employs them as security for medical marijuana providers. Other foundations are raising money for clinical trials.

At the Santa Cruz Veterans Alliance, visible proof of how welcome the mission is comes on the first Monday of every month, when more than a hundred people typically line up at theSanta Cruz Live Oak Grange No. 503, a local gathering hall. Showing proof of service, a doctor’s recommendation, and a valid California ID, each gets a voucher for free weed from the group’s dispensaries and a lot more.

The monthly meetings have become a fixture for veterans of the Gulf War, Iraq, Afghanistan, Vietnam and even Korea and World War II. The alliance also brings in groups to talk about other services veterans may need, such as housing, employment assistance and health care.

Smith thinks their mission is vital. “We hope to keep (the marijuana efforts) all sustainable at least until the VA can prescribe it,” he said. “Everyone comes to find relief from everything from anxiety and depression, the PTSD, the lack of sleep and chronic pain, to get over opioid addiction. We’ve seen it all.”

After getting vouchers, veterans stay to talk about their wars, the challenges of everyday life and cannabis itself.

Jai Kadilak, who did tank duty in the Gulf War, has been attending meetings for the past three years. Cannabis has made him feel whole, he said, and the meeting brought back the familiar camaraderie of the war.

“I met a woman there who said her husband never leaves the house except for this one meeting, and they drive in from hours away,” Kadilak said.

Attendees share information unavailable at the VA. They talk about what marijuana strains work best to help sleep or to ease anxiety. There’s advice about edibles and cooking. One man turns cannabis juice into frozen cubes. Others talk about what to take if they don’t want to get high.

Kadilak feels that cannabis is a better optionthan the “mess of pills” or “combat cocktail” of antipsychotics and opioids the VA put him on when he returned from combat. “I didn’t feel good. I didn’t feel bad. It was like I was just existing,” he said.

Like a lot of guys he knew, Kadilak self-medicated with “quite a bit of beer on a daily basis,” which he knew was dangerous. “It really was rolling the dice with alcohol and pills, and it was a negative result,” he said. Now, as he advocates for compassionate use for other veterans, “there is no doubt about it: This is something that works, and it just can’t go away. It can’t.”

Socrates Rosenfeld agrees. The 36-year-old, who works in the cannabis industry, as CEO of Jane Technologies, an online cannabis marketplace, has also been going to the Santa Cruz Veterans Alliance meetings for the past year and a half.

Growing up, Rosenfeld said, he was as clean-cut as it comes. A West Point grad, an MIT student and an Apache helicopter pilot, he felt like he accomplished a lot, but when he got back from Iraq, the transition to civilian life was challenging.

“You get used to operating at a certain level of intensity over there, with life or death decisions at every turn,” he said. “It’s hard to turn down the volume and live as a civilian sometimes.”

Rosenfeld said he had never touched cannabis before but felt that he had to do something.

“It’s like this thought carousel kept going around and around, and I couldn’t find any way to be present in the moment,” he said.

Cannabis brought calm. “I wouldn’t take an opioid, as the doctors recommended. I didn’t want to feel like a zombie, but cannabis, this brought me a sense of balance, a connectedness to nature and to my loved ones and to myself.”

See the latest news and share your comments with CNN Health on Facebook and Twitter.

The Santa Cruz Veterans Alliance meetings have also brought him a connection to other vets who sometimes struggle with the stigma that comes with using marijuana.

“I think that is why SCVAhas done such a great job. Being in the group, they are essentially saying, ‘you don’t have to be ashamed or worried about using this. You can find a way to treat whatever you are experiencing in a peaceful, natural and healing way,’ ” Rosenfeld said. “For the veterans’ community that goes through so much, this is really beautiful, and I hope other people learn about it. It’s not just about smoking a joint on 4/20. It’s about accessing a way to heal.”

Source: http://allofbeer.com/veterans-grass-roots-movement-shares-health-benefits-of-marijuana/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/09/19/veterans-grass-roots-movement-shares-health-benefits-of-marijuana/

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allofbeercom · 6 years