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daretosnoop · 4 years

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Lessons I learned from the Games

Most of this is just silly, some are actual lessons.

SCK/SCK2:

If you’re going to get murdered, get revenge by leaving clues to the blackmail you have on potential suspects and hope to god someone figures it out

If you’re investigating a crime, being a random transfer student at the end of the year is probably not the way to go, but no one cares because they’re too busy with college applications.

If your niece is coming to your place to investigate a murder and you’re not there, the least you can do is set up a cage to trap any possible break-ins.

Nothing beats being able to hold a gun to the murderer #whySCKremastered???

Teens dealing with pressures to meet college and parental demands

Teens resorting to drugs

Teens dealing with sexism that’s found in abundance in college and work environments

Teachers not giving a shit about what students are going through.

STFD:

If you’re getting death threats, play it cool. Keeps the perps unhinged

Toxicity of fan culture

Throw all CEOs into the closet

Nothing beats Jazz

If you’re going to commit crime in an actor’s community, you must do it with flare

MHM:

If you’re going to buy a Victorian mansion, the least you can do is check for ghosts. And also hire a carpenter beforehand

Never invest your life’s savings into anything

Treat those who help you with basic decency (my god Rose!)

If you’re snooping on someone, don’t give them any indication that you’re onto them

If someone slips a threatening message under your door, open the door.

Victorian houses have all sorts of booby traps, FIND THEM.

TRT:

Don’t trust anyone who’s eager to be your friend

Trust the weirdos and grumpy people

Learn French

Don’t leave incriminating evidence that reveals your lies

There is no such thing as too much food

Women in history have been badly treated by (male) historians.

It’s called the past for a reason

Turn a bad situation into an opportunity to learn

If you’re going to do crime, at least ensure you have an escape route that’s not blocked by the snow

Don’t date people who pressure you to marry them/ask you to prove your love for them

FIN:

As a woman, if you want anyone to take you seriously and help, you have to be adamant, sassy, and everything men don’t like to see in women.

If you’re a POC, the chances of the police helping you decreases

Capitalism sucks

Police suck

Misogyny in capitalism

Old theaters are amazing

Don’t trust the person who’s trying to be your friend!!!!!!

Don’t talk to suspects about your case

Have confidence in yourself

SSH:

Colonialism still exists in the form of capitalism

The art industry is completely profit driven

Mexico and America tensions

The Mayans

They never talked about what happened to the Mayans…..

Don’t deal with shady salesmen

Sometimes saving money contributes to a bad system

If you accepted a position, take your work seriously

Don’t trust the guy trying to be your friend!!!!

Master the art of amnesia should you ever need to use it

Even if you disband a group of art thieves, it’s best to be humble

No one in life is going to help you, even if you get pushed into a monolith

DOG:

This game is why it’s important to put your dog(s) on a leash! (insert that dog vine: “it don’t bite. Yes it do!”)

If we didn’t have uptight rangers, the parks would be burnt to smithereens

Misogyny exists in the woods

People who are just trying to do their job always get a bad rap even though it’s because of them the park still exists!

Gangsters are bad, but also low-key cool

Get back at your enemies by making a fake grave of them

Old people have interesting stories

Gold can release arsenic into water

Always check well water before using

Wood mice are bad for health

If you’re going to get tied up and tossed into your tool shed, keep a scythe on hand

Go birdwatching at night

Torque is a fancy word for screw driver

If you’re a POC, people are most likely to suspect you.

CAR:

There is no job security if you end up in hospital

Sometimes you really need a 2000 calorie sundae

If you went to jail, people are most likely to suspect you first

Don’t spy on your co-workers

Don’t trust the person who’s trying to be your friend!

Don’t procrastinate on a job

If you’re miserable in life, maybe it’s time to sign up for some therapy

If you have a sad backstory, you’re automatically entitled to everyone’s sad backstory

Mental illness: depression

Health awareness: niacin, don’t eat junk food like a 2000 calorie sundae

Don’t dump someone just because they’re not able to give you a lavish lifestyle

DDI:

If you’re going to trash someone’s boat, don’t leave your business card behind

If you’re tired of small mindedness, it’s best to just leave

It’s always handy in life to know boating skills

If you’re trying to report suspicious activity, communicating by bottles is not the way to go

Don’t feed wild animals!

Capitalism sucks

Look carefully at your environment, you never know what clues are left behind

Always make a plan B in case plan A doesn’t work

Don’t be afraid to explore

SHA:

Never trust the guy who’s trying to be your friend!!!

Always trust the grumpy guy

Horses die easily

There is no such thing as over ripe vegetables

Sunflowers should be planted near gardens so that bees come

Respect chickens

Falling in love with a criminal is difficult when your dad’s a cop

It’s handy to know how to ride a horse

Ghost towns are terrifying

Farmers work hard and should be respected

CUR:

Don’t trust the person who’s trying to be your friend!!!!!!!!!!

Don’t be a negligent parent

Before getting married, make sure your partner has a good relationship with your child

Don’t trust creepy people

America and British will always oppose each other

Talking parrots are always handy

British aristocracy was supported through colonialism #got Loulou on his Travels, uh huh

If you’re a spinster, you’re going to be the mom of something

If you’re afraid of becoming a monster, best be dramatic about it

It’s really important to have good communication between partners

Don’t stick your new wife in a room that still has pictures of your old wife and where all the furniture has covers on them

If you have a manor, you better explore it before some 12-year-old gets hurt exploring it

don’t go to great lengths to protect a rock

calling something that skips every generation a “family tradition” is just rude and exclusive

don’t leave your child alone for so long. Don’t keep them away from people their age

don’t write memories, no one wants to hear your life story

CLK:

if you’re going to presume someone’s identity, you better nail the part down hard

don’t blow up the kitchen when there’s only three people in the house and you were the closest and last one in the kitchen

emotional manipulation

gas lighting

if someone mentions stolen jewellery, putting back what you stole just incriminates you

even if you have psychic abilities, don’t be an ass bout it

no one ever tips because no one like the system. Pay your employees what they deserve!

Even though the depression’s going on, people are still dumping money in psychic lessons and dress making

No one ever gives anything away for free

Even if you’re promised money, don’t put too much trust in the promises of others

Don’t be rude to the person who’s trying to help you

If your partner is demanding to be spoiled during an economic depression, find a better partner

People aren’t as smart as you, tell them straight where you left your will.

TRN:

The dumb blonde joke is not funny

Cops are useless and unhelpful

People are more willing to listen to adults then teens/young adults

Celebrities are much different in real life then in their celebrity world.

Don’t steal someone else’s ideaà artist theft

Old trains are super cool

People aren’t as smart as you, tell them straight where you hid your treasure

Don’t dump someone just because people think they’re dumb

DAN:

Capitalism sucks

The fashion industry is brutal

normal size representation

Boss’s can be crappy people

Don’t blackmail people

If you promised to do work, you better dedicate yourself to it

Having a healthy fear of giving away personal information is not a bad thing

Don’t aid stalkers

Covid-precaution: cover face with mask. Act erratic to keep people away from you

Concept of older men dating younger women is actually frowned upon

Love is mysterious

Flashlight on the many women who helped decode during WW2 but largely remain unrecognized by countries today

Forgery is okay sometimes

CRE:

Indigenous cultures continue to be badly and negatively portrayed in media

Capitalism sucks

Environmentalism

Academia is not as research oriented as one wishes it was

Daddy-issues

Native Hawaiians forced to “work with” big corps in order to survive.

Tourism industry and its affects on the environment and native population

Sometimes an upgrade is not a good thing

ICE:

Animal conservatism

Capitalism sucks

International competitions suck

Running away from humans to hide in a cabin and bonding with a wolf is not a bad thing

Never enter a sauna alone

It’s bad business to kick customers out

If your customers are falling asleep everyday in a common room, it’s probably not a good sign of booming business

Don’t be chill over bombs exploding near your hotel

Always handy to know how to drive a snow mobile

Don’t volunteer to be a maid, ever

Cops are useless

CRY:

Don’t dump your job on your girlfriend

There’s nothing wrong with being emo

Men being emotional and desiring love and affection

Men being abused in relationships

Even if your relative leaves you a ton of money, it’s no excuse for not being a good guardian/parent

Don’t trust strangers. Don’t eat food from random people

Customer service is awful. Even when the customer is trying to instigate a horrible reaction in you, you got to put on a smile

Always trust the eccentric lady

Nancy’s sad backstory allows her to hear everyone else’s sad backstory, unless you’re a guy, I guess.

A date in the cemetery is not a bad idea

If your partner demands you to spoil them, get a new partner

People aren’t as smart as you, tell them where you hid your treasure

VEN:

Anyone can help out on an international mafia case

The mafia is very creative and artistic

Capitalism sucks

Assert your independence as a young woman by dancing in a cat suit on stage? I guess?

Money can be found anywhere

Eat the rich

Don’t trust the person trying to be friends with you

Possessive relationships are red flags

Don’t steal a cheap neckless if you’re a notorious thief

Cops kind of useful for once.

HAU

Don’t pull a prank on your partner before your wedding

Don’t invite someone who used to date your partner and still has feelings for them

If your partner is missing, actually look for them instead of sitting around

Crows are amazing

Fiona might have lost her parents at a young age and her life as a hermit definitely had its side affects, but she also saved herself from the misogyny women endured

RAN:

If your friend gets kidnapped, please, at least fake some concern

Don’t waste time with monkeys

The only other person on the island is probably the culprit

WAV:

Girl bullying can be worse than boy bullying

Don’t trust the person who’s trying to be your friend!!!!!!

TOT:

Nancy’s sad backstory allows her to hear everyone else’s sad backstory, unless you’re a guy, I guess.

Academic institutions are struggling to fund research

Capitalism sucks

Even if you hate your lead, don’t sabotage the team

Communication is important

Even if you hate your job, don’t sabotage your team

SAW:

People who resist to change just become boulders in the way of progress

Boomer mentality is soul destroying

Emotional manipulation

Gas lighting

Depression

Sometimes you have to cut away from those you love in order to maintain your sanity

Nancy’s sad backstory allows her to hear everyone else’s sad backstory.

If you have to give your partner a gift every time you fight, you might have relationship problems

Don’t be in a relationship just because you’re used to it

Don’t force someone to adhere to your expectations in life

If you’re unable to talk to your partner and so resort to haunting her inn, you probably have relationship issues

#nancy drew

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collectablecorner · 3 years

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SSAFA, the Armed Forces charity supports the entire Armed Forces family. It is a UK non-profit charity that provides long life support to individuals who are currently serving or have served within the British Armed Forces and their families. This impressive organization has been operating since 1885 and was founded by Major James Gildea. Today SSAFA boasts of 5,000 volunteers to help upwards of people every year and is the UK's oldest national tri-service Armed Forces charity.

Why is Collectable Corner choosing to support SSAFA?

The problem people tend to have when it comes to charitable donations and fundraising is not knowing how much of the donors funds are reaching the desired goal of helping someone in need. While we can't speak for the charities themselves, we (myself and my family) can talk about our experience with SSAFA and why we're confident that the money gets exactly to where it is needed the most.

Brian Cook, a loving husband, father, great grandfather and (my) grandad served in the Royal Air Force (RAF) and was a part of the Christmas Island nuclear bomb tests in the 1950's which exposed the soldiers to radiation due to being closer to the bombs than any human should ever be. Today only a handful of the Suicide Squad Veterans are still alive. Almost (if not all) of the soldiers involved died through multiple various cancers and ill health such as chronic arthritis and heart, lung, liver diseases. There is evidence to support the fact that these health conditions can be directly related to what the soldiers were made to do. But not only has it affected the veterans themselves but their families genetics has also caused numerous health problems generation after generation. This will carry on for generations to come also and the UK is one of the only countries involved to not accept these findings and therefore the support for these individuals and families has been lacking. Unfortunately Brian (grandad) was no different, neither is his family.

In January 2018, Brian fell ill and was taken to hospital where within three days of admittance was diagnosed with late stage liver and lung cancer, all that could be done was to make him as comfortable as possible. Over the course of the following four days we prepared for his return home. We gave a sofa away from our living room to make room for the hospital bed due to Brian losing the use of his legs, and we turned a downstairs room into a bathroom. Monday came round and Brian had been in hospital for 7 days, Monday to Monday. He arrived home via hospital transport and we got him settled in as best we could. Grandad always wanted to die at home my grandmother tells me. At 3am tuesday morning, after being home for around 10 hours Brian, my grandmother's husband, my mother's father, and my very special grandad passed away. It was, as anyone who has lost a loved one will know, devastating. It all happened so fast.

During the period between Brian's death and his funeral service SSAFA actually offered us money towards the cost, which we refused based on the fact we would rather it had gone to someone more in need than ourselves, but it stuck with us in our hearts and minds. What we learned is that SSAFA, the Armed Forces charity, gets the money and help to the people who really need it. We didn't expect nor ask for it either. At this period in Collectable Corner didn't exist, what existed was another hobby project that never worked out but a vow was made by myself to use the public platform to raise donations for SSAFA in loving memory of RAF Veteran Brian Cook. Now after a couple of years of hard work, dedication and grind, Collectable Corner, i am elated to tell you is working out and in a position to honour that vow and may he rest in peace.

Who does SSAFA help? And how does it help?

SSAFA, the Armed Forces charity helps people in a variety of ways.

For currently serving personnel and their families provides:

Support in service communities

SSAFA has a network of volunteers on Army, RAF, and Naval bases in the UK and around the world who give local support.

Housing

Housing for wounded, injured, and sick serving personnel and their famiies SSAFA Norton House, Stanford Hall provide home-from-home accommodation for families visiting wounded, injured, sick service or ex-service personnel and outpatients. SSAFA also provides day-to-day management of Fisher House UK at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital, Birmingham (QEHB).

Mentoring for service leavers

SSAFA's mentoring scheme was set up in 2011 and supports those transitioning out of the Forces. SSAFA's volunteer mentors provide support to wounded, injured, and sick leavers through a long-term 'one-to-one' relationship that underpins the transition from the military. SSAFA Mentoring is nationally accredited by the Mentoring and Befriending Foundation.

Adoption for military families

SSAFA is a registered adoption agency dedicated to helping military families through the adoption process.

Additional need and disabilities support

SSAFA provide specialised support to military families with additional needs including their Forces Additional Needs and Disability Forum (FANDF).

Short breaks for children and young people with additional needs from Forces families

SSAFA coordinates holidays and events that focus on offering new experiences and activities for children and young people from services families.

Stepping Stone Homes for women and their children with a service connection

Stepping Stone Homes provides short-term supported accommodation, help, and advice during difficult times. Female spouses and partners of serving or ex-service personnal, along with their dependent children are all eligible to stay there.

Professional health care

SSAFA's professional health care staff provide patient-focussed care to military families worldwide.

Personal support and social work for the RAF

Working alongside the RAF, but outside the Chain of Command, SSAFA staff provide support for RAF personnel and their families worldwide.

Independent Service Custody Visiting

SSAFA provides independent oversight of Army Service Custody facilities.

Support available to veterans and their families:

Housing advice

SSAFA offers practical housing advice and support to Armed Forces veterans and their dependents including guidance around housing benefits and accessing social housing.

Debt advice

SSAFA can help veterans to get advice on dealing with debt when they have fallen behind on their bills or repayments to credit cards and are struggling to get by or at risk of losing their home.

Mobility assistance

SSAFA volunteers seek financial assistance for veterans to help maintain mobility and independence at home. Trained volunteers can help veterans get mobility equipment such as Electronically Powered Vehicles (EPV) or mobility scooters, stair lifts, riser and recliner chairs.

Providing household goods

SSAFA can provide veterans with essential household items, including white and brown goods.

Support for homeless veterans

SSAFA has a range of specialist services to support veterans who are homeless or facing homelessness.

Joining Forces

SSAFA's partnership with Age UK to improve the lives of veterans born before 1950.

Gurkha services

Providing tailored support for Gurkhas and their families who live in the UK.

Glasgow's Helping Heroes

Glasgow's Helping Heroes' is an award-winning service provided by SSAFA in partnership with Glasgow City Council for current and former members of the Armed Forces and their dependants or carers who live, work, or wish to relocate there. It's dedicated team work with national and local governments and third sector providers to resolve clients employment, housing, health, financial and/or social isolation issues.

Forces helpline

SSAFA also offers Forcesline, which is a free and confidential telephone helpline, web chat, and email service that provides support for both current and ex-service men and women from the Armed Forces and their families.

As you can see, SSAFA goes above and beyond to help as many serving and veteran pesonnel and their families as possible who have sacrificed for our country and ensures the aid gets to exactly the places it is needed most. To do this requires a lot of time and money, as you can imagine.

Covid-19 and the SSAFA Emergency Response Fund

Covid-19 has had an impact on everyone regardless of if you are ill. It looks like it will remain a part of our lives for a long time to come, heck, it may be a permanent part of modern life. At SSAFA, calls and requests for help from the vulnerable people, such as the elderly, low income households, and those with serious underlying health conditions. In response to this SSAFA has an Emergency Response Fund. The strain on the organization is obviously high as more people need help with mental health, housing, and financial issues. SSAFA provides this support for the British Armed Forces, serving and veteran personnel, and their families but to do this SSAFA needs to ensure it's staff and volunteers are kept as safe as possible with PPE. Combine the huge rise in help requests and the need to protect SSAFA staff, volunteers and those they help results in a large increase in costs which is why donations are so important and critical to its operations to continue the vital work SSAFA does.

What is Collectable Corner doing to help?

We have purchased over a thousand Royal Air Force (RAF) Dog Tags, Ball Chain Necklaces, Rubber Silencers and Packaging, which we are asking for a donation of £10 per set plus £2.29 for postage of which 100% of the £10 is being donated to SSAFA. Collectable Corner is paying any processing fees and extra postage fees that may incur. Essentially, the Dog Tags are a token of gratitude from us to you for making your donation and helping us to support and help as many people as we can together. In total we have 504 sets of Dog Tags available so that equates to £5,040 in funds to generate. We also have the ability to purchase more should we require them.

How are the donations being made and how often?

We will deposit the donations directly to SSAFA at the end of each month via bank transfer to an account SAFFA has provided to us*.

How will donors know that donations were made?

We understand how important it is to be absolutely transparent with charity work to ensure that everyone knows when and how much is being donated and it is just as important to us at Collectable Corner as to donors and customers. Collectable Corner will of course be publishing monthly updates on our blog and in our newsletter which we urge you to sign up for, along with publishing the donation receipts and sales records minus people's private data such as names and addresses etc. We also have a backend application running on our website which allows visitors to CollectableCorner.shop to view in real time exactly how many sets of dog tags have been claimed.

Share your experiences of SSAFA

Collectable Corner is welcoming you to share your stories with visitors to our website. On each product page is a review section where anyone can make use of by letting others know your story. Maybe it is about how SSAFA has helped you or someone close to you, or maybe you have fundraised and donated in the past. Maybe you are someone who works or have worked with and volunteered for SSAFA who wants to share with us all, or maybe you simply want to say hello.

Thank you...

We, at Collectable Corner, want to thank SSAFA for the amazing work the staff and volunteers have, will and do do. The impact this charity has had on so many lives truly is something to be marvelled at.

Thank you to anyone who helps us to make some real world differences by ordering a set of RAF dog tags with the knowledge that you are donating to a truly awesome cause.

Thank you to all of the past, present and future British Armed Forces personnel who have sacrificed, and do sacrifice everything for our great nation. You make us proud each and every day.

Finally, thank you Brian Cook, my Grandmother's Husband, my Mothers Father, a Great Grandfather, and my Grandad for being such an inspiration, thank you for being the best and only Father i ever had. May you sleep easy and Rest in Peace.

*Please note that the information in this article has been vetted by and in part supplied by SSAFA prior to being released to the public and is accurate at the time of this publication. Collectable Corner has the permission of SSAFA of the logo to be used and they are the copyright owner. SSAFA is a non-profit charity registered in England and Wales (210760), Scotland (SCO38056) and the Republic of Ireland (20202001). Collectable Corner is not in a partnership with nor affiliated by SSAFA, however we are in contact. Anyone who wishes to confirm that SSAFA is aware of Collectable Corner's campaign to raise donations and the methods being used can do so by emailing [email protected] or [email protected]

#ssafa #charity #Collectable Corner #Love

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jarienn972 · 4 years

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Weathering the Storm - Part One

I dreamed up the crazy idea for this story a couple of weeks ago (yes, this was actually a dream) and I finally found some motivation to start writing it. The basic premise is that it’s a pretty lousy day in Storybrooke. A severe thunderstorm is looming, vandals are on the loose and Killian makes a ill-fated error while trying to be a Good Samaritan that leaves him relying on an unlikely ally for his very survival.

I haven’t written a multi-chapter whump story in a while so @hookaroo, this one is right up your alley. Lots of whumpy fun (and a little comedy thrown in too). And I’m sorry @killian-whump if I’m overloading your to read lists this month.

You can also find this on AO3 and FF.net

Peering through the windshield at the darkening horizon, Killian's brow furrowed. He was still getting accustomed to driving the Sheriff's vehicle himself and while it wasn't entirely unlike manning the helm of the Jolly Roger, he'd learned that the automobile responded much faster to course adjustments. He was becoming increasingly comfortable driving on dry roads, but he didn't yet have much experience driving on rain-slickened asphalt so he was hoping that the forecast storm would hold off for a tad longer.

With Emma occupied assisting Henry locate the proper attire for some sort of ball called homecoming, Killian had volunteered to take this morning's call on his own. It was a case that seemed innocuous enough on the surface - the now magic-less former Wicked Witch had phoned in a complaint to the station after someone threw a brick through her living room window. Neither she nor her child had been harmed but she was livid and wanted the vandal caught. She was quite vocal that she preferred Emma be the one to respond but after being advised that Emma wasn't available - and several minutes of unsuccessful argument, she resigned to the fact that it would be Killian coming to investigate. There had been two similar attacks in town and he had a pretty good idea who was responsible already but more evidence was always welcome.

So now he found himself driving to the outskirts of town, on his way to Zelena's farmhouse with a thunderstorm looming. At least the weather was keeping the traffic light as most in town chose to stay off of the highway with a severe storm threatening. But it was the very lack of cars on the road that made the vehicle pulled off to the berm stand out so starkly. It wasn't a vehicle he recognized, much newer and sleeker than the majority of the cars in Storybrooke, although he had seen similar ones when Emma had taken him on visits to nearby cities.

He could tell that there was a driver still seated behind the steering wheel and at quick glance, nothing appeared to be amiss. It was possible that the vehicle had broken down, as he'd learned they were prone to do. So, as Deputy Sheriff of this town, the neighborly thing to do was to see if the motorist was in need of assistance. He slowed down after passing the parked car which was facing opposite of his direction, flipped on the lights and made a slightly awkward three point turn in the middle of the road. (There were still a few maneuvers that weren't particularly easy for a man with a hook for a hand.)

He eased his vehicle to the side of the road, stopping a few feet behind the dusty black sedan that displayed New Hampshire license plates. Before exiting the vehicle, he made sure that his badge was properly displayed, clipped to the chest pocket of his hip length leather coat. He also double checked that the little camera mounted on the vehicle's dashboard was recording just as Emma had insisted. She'd had the device installed so that they would have video of every traffic stop, saying that it was for everyone's protection although Killian had scoffed at it. Wasn't like it would be hard to manipulate it with a little magic, but if Emma wanted the camera used, he'd use the bloody camera.

He turned off the cruiser's engine and stepped out into the road, approaching the vehicle cautiously, but trying not to project a threatening air. He was merely offering aid if needed and noted that the driver was already rolling down the window as he neared.

"'Afternoon, mate," Killian greeted the motorist with a welcoming smile. "I'm Deputy Jones with the Storybrooke Sheriff's Department. I noticed you pulled over here and I was wondering if I could be of any assistance?"

The dark haired driver raised his chin to glance up at Killian, or at least Killian thought the man was looking at him. It was impossible to be certain as he couldn't see the driver's eyes behind his mirrored sunglasses, a strange accessory to be wearing in such overcast weather.

"All's good, Deputy," the man replied. "Just had to pull over to try to make a call but it seems cell phone service kinda sucks around here."

"So I've been told," Killian chuckled. "You'll likely get a better signal about three miles or so ahead, on the other side of the county line."

"That's good to know. Thanks." It was a valid reason to be parked here and the driver seemed courteous enough but Killian's keen intuition sensed something was off. His gaze drifted unconsciously past the driver where he caught a glimpse of a map of Maine with a meandering route plotted in yellow highlights, one that avoided all major highways and towns. Something was telling him that this person wasn't the scenic backroads type.

"Well, I'll not waste any more of your time. Enjoy your drive, mate." Killian gave a little nod to the driver as he made a mental note to run the license plate number with the state police as soon as he returned to the cruiser, chastising himself for not doing that in the first place. He barely had time to take a single step back from the sedan before he found himself staring at the muzzle of a pistol trained on him through the car window. The driver had brandished it so rapidly that Killian had no time to draw his own weapon.

He heard the gun go off and time seemed to slow. The bullet struck his right side, entering somewhere around the bottom of his rib cage. The pain didn't hit him immediately as he staggered back a few steps before his legs gave out beneath him and he dropped to the asphalt. He watched the driver lean out of the window and fire a second shot at the cruiser, hitting the front tire and flattening it. By now, a searing heat was spreading through his torso but as he lay there in the middle of the empty highway, Killian noticed that there was a pair of feet visible beneath the car and his ears picked up a second voice shouting.

"What the hell did you do that for?" the second, deeper voice demanded. "We weren't supposed to draw attention!"

"You were the one who had to take a piss," the driver's voice responded defensively as a car door squeaked open and then slammed closed seconds later. "I told you we shouldn't have stopped."

"You didn't have to shoot a cop!"

"He saw the map...What if he ran the plate?"

That was the last of the conversation that Killian could make out as the sedan's engine roared to life and the vehicle sped away, kicking up a cloud of dust and gravel in its wake.

Clutching his wounded flank, Killian lay unmoving in the road for a few minutes but to him, it felt like hours had passed. Get moving, Jones his head urged but his body was less willing to comply. He practically dragged himself back to the cruiser, using the front bumper to support himself as he managed to raise up to his knees. Beneath his layers of leather, he could already feel the sticky dampness of blood, warm against his skin. He knew he should get to the radio. He should call for help, but who would answer? There was no one at the station to hear his plea and he didn't know if any other law enforcement would get the transmission as Storybrooke wasn't exactly on any regular patrol route.

Maybe he could call Emma? If he could get a signal on that infernal device, maybe she could get to him? She could teleport. He couldn't.

Trying to ignore the increasing pain, he pulled his hand away from the wound, patting his coat pocket for his phone, hoping it was still inside. As he'd become more adept with the technology, Emma had upgraded his phone to a fancier version she'd felt would be simpler to operate one-handed. The new device had proven easier to access features other than what he still referred to as the Emma button, but he was about to rue the change. The new device was covered in a shiny sheet of glass that he'd initially questioned the durability of but he was assured this was typical of newer devices. As he slipped his bloodstained hand into the pocket, his fingertips came in contact with his phone - and the razor sharp edges of the shattered glass screen.

He drew it from his pocket carefully and confirmed the damage. He must have landed on it when he'd fallen. He tried in vain to press the power button, hoping the device would light up but it barely flickered in his hand, leading Killian to quickly realize the dire predicament he was in. He was on his own out here in the middle of nowhere and he needed to think of a plan right now or he'd bleed to death before anyone was likely to find him. His closest option to get assistance was to head to Zelena's farmhouse which was approximately another half a mile up the road. With a flat tire, he couldn't easily drive there and he doubted that he had the strength or the dexterity to change it. Could he feasibly make his way to the witch's home on foot?

Clenching his jaw tightly, he swung his hook up onto the hood of the cruiser, anchoring it into the narrow gap above the headlight. He grimaced and cried out in agony as he pulled himself upright. He rested against the vehicle for a few moments, willing himself to move. He could make it a half a mile. He had to make it, he kept telling himself as he pushed away from the car, leaving behind a sizable smear of crimson on the vehicle's white paint.

**********

Thankful that she'd located the bright blue tarp in the decrepit barn behind the house, Zelena was trying hard to work while ignoring the pleas of her cranky toddler. She currently stood atop a sturdy chair attempting to nail that plastic sheet over the shattered living room window. It was a hasty fix that wouldn't last long, and it had her once again lamenting her lack of magical powers. She had hoped to convince Jones to assist with the temporary repairs by covering the window with a few boards salvaged from the barn - after he finished up with whatever he needed to do to locate the little cretin who'd vandalized her home. It would have been a stronger repair until she could get someone who still possessed magic out here to take care of the glass, but since he hadn't shown up yet and unfortunately, the rain had, she had to wing it.

The plastic wasn't keeping all of the weather out but it was holding up better than she'd anticipated as the wind whipped up out of the west. She'd already tried calling Emma to see where her ne'er do well husband might be but found phone lines down even before the power went out. Cell phones rarely worked out here so she wasn't surprised to see No Service on the device screen. Maybe she should start thinking about moving closer to town…

Before it got too dark inside the house, she tossed a few logs into the fireplace and got a nice, warm fire going. From the kitchen, Robin continued to wail in her play yard but Zelena needed to find more candles and flashlights first. This storm was forecast to be a severe one. The arrival of the thunderclaps and lightning flashes ahead of the rain had the child screeching but the weather was only partially responsible for the child's tantrum. She was also vocally protesting that mum had put her into this restrictive baby prison when she wanted to explore and see why mummy was making so much noise in the other room. She didn't like the play yard and she was going to make sure that everyone within earshot knew it.

"I know you don't like it in there, my little pistachio," an exasperated Zelena called out to her daughter. "Mummy just has to finish up some work and then I promise, we'll go snuggle and I'll read you a story. Does that sound good?" She didn't wait for the child's response as she placed the four candles and two flashlights she'd located onto the kitchen counter then stepped over to the stove and turned on the front burner, thankful that the gas was still working. With one hand, she placed the tea kettle atop the blue flames while her other hand opened the cupboard to her left and retrieved a bright pink sippy cup. "How about I get you some juice while I finish up?"

The mention of juice tempered the toddler's mood momentarily as she intently watched her mother pour a few ounces of white grape juice into the cup and twist the lid onto it. Robin greedily snatched it from her mother's hand, the thunderstorm momentarily forgotten as she swallowed her sweet treat, plopping herself down next to a fluffy stuffed rabbit. Exhaling a sigh of relief, Zelena was about to return to the tea kettle when she heard a thud against her front door. Had something blown into the door or was that a knock? Had that miserable pirate turned deputy finally shown up?

"Is that you, Jones?" she asked loudly as she crossed the room to answer the door. "It's about bloody time you showed up… What's your…" She was going to say excuse but stopped herself mid-utterance as she swung open the door to find her door frame smeared with a mixture of blood and mud and a barely conscious Killian Jones collapsed on her front porch. He was laying face down, head resting on her woven straw welcome mat and clothes dripping wet as though he'd been out in the elements for a while. "What the devil happened to you? Where's your car?" Her eyes quickly scanned the gravel drive that led up to her house but saw no sign of a vehicle and realized she'd not heard a car approaching either.

She lowered herself to one knee in the doorway and took hold of his arm, wanting to help him get up and out of the storm. Her gaze caught sight of the series of puddles on the steps leading up to her door noticing that they were all tinged with reddish swirls.

"Are you injured?" she queried. He groaned what must have been an affirmative as he made a feeble attempt to raise his head, managing to force open one dull blue eye that pleaded for help. "Okay - we've got to get you inside. I have no idea what's happened but even I can't leave you out here in this awful weather. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and Zelena grasped his shoulders, feeling him shaking as if his strength would give out at any moment. "Think you can get to your feet with a little help?"

Killian nodded in response as she stood up, extending her arms towards him. His hand was slick with rainwater and blood as he clasped onto hers, hindering him from getting a secure grasp.

"Let's try something different…," she said as she shifted her position, stooping over and sliding her hands beneath his arms then wrapping her own arms around his upper torso. "I can't believe I'm doing this…" she muttered but at least he understood her actions. He scrambled to get his wobbly legs beneath him and pushed himself upward while she steadied his upper body. He caught his hook on the doorframe, using it to help balance himself once he was standing until she could move next to him, placing an arm around his back to guide him through the opening and over to her solid wood kitchen table. She let him brace against it while she kicked the door closed, the slam drawing a shriek from the startled Robin.

"Hang in there, little one. Mummy's got a bit of an emergency here…" As the tea kettle whistle drowned out the toddler, Zelena turned off the flame beneath it before turning her attention back to the ailing pirate dripping blood and water all over her floor and table. "I'm going to get you over to the sofa where you can lay down but first, we need to get you out of that sopping wet coat. It must weigh a ton with all the water it soaked up." Killian offered little resistance as she slid the heavy, rainwater laden leather off of his right arm and then repeated the process on his left, easing the sleeve over his brace and hook before allowing the coat to drop to the floor. She'd worry about it later.

With the burden of the leather coat now off of his shoulders, he huffed out a little sigh followed by a pained moan while nearly toppling over. Zelena caught him and wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she let him fall against her. "Okay, Jones - just a few more steps, okay?" She led him slowly, nearly dragging him at times, into the living room to her floral print sofa and let him flop onto it. "Lie down and I'll be right back. I'll get some blankets out of the closet and I have some first aid supplies in the cabinet in the loo…"

"Thank...you…" he stuttered through chattering teeth as she pulled the colorful crocheted afghan off the back of the sofa and draped it over his shivering form. She hadn't expected an answer since he could scarcely keep his eyes open so his response caught her off guard.

"You're welcome. Now, just rest a minute." What the devil am I doing? She had this and so many other questions swirling about in her overwhelmed head. Was she actually trying to save the life of the very same man she'd nearly killed just a few short years ago? And he was really trusting her to do this? Had becoming a mother changed her that much? Had sacrificing her magic helped her earn back her humanity? Okay - maybe not that since she'd kill to get her magic back. Well, that probably wasn't the best choice of words…

She shook off the barrage of unanswerable questions as she yanked open the linen closet door to collect some necessary items. She gathered up a pillow from the top shelf, two more blankets and a stack of towels and threw them all into an empty laundry basket. Before closing the door, she reached back in and grabbed a handful of washcloths too, then headed into the bathroom to see what first aid supplies she could locate. With Robin now walking, she'd stocked up on bandages and antiseptic but most of what she had on hand was sized for a child so she might have to improvise a bit. She tossed anything that might be useful into the basket with the linens and then hurried back to the living room.

"Alright, Jones - are you still with me?" He mumbled something unintelligible in his semi-conscious state that she took as a yes. "Okay, first thing we've got to do is get you out of some of these wet clothes and see where all of this blood is coming from…" He seemed to understand what she meant. His jeans were thoroughly soaked, covered in mud from when he'd fallen while trudging up her driveway and they were plastered to his chilled skin. He'd be able to warm up faster without the dampened clothing in the way. There was nothing gratuitous about it, but it didn't mean that Zelena was going to enjoy this part.

There was no pretense of modesty as she unbuckled his belt and unfastened the buttons on his trousers, keeping her eyes squeezed shut the whole time. She tugged the heavy, uncooperative fabric over his hips, praying that the pirate wasn't going commando. It wasn't that she hadn't seen male anatomy before; she just had no desire to see a former enemy's private parts.

Once she'd managed to get the denim pulled down to his knees, she quickly threw the afghan back over his hips before daring to open her eyes. Seeing Captain Hook's bare knees and shins was something she could handle as long as the rest of his lower extremities were covered. She did immediately come to the realization that she'd forgotten a step - she'd neglected to remove his boots. Thankfully for her, even though the black leather boots were as waterlogged as his matching coat, they were only ankle height with elastic sides to make them easier to slip on and off. She barely managed to stifle a giggle as she yanked them off of his feet and uncovered his navy blue socks that had tiny white sailboats printed on them. Novelty socks were not something she would have thought him to sport, but she kept any commentary to herself as she finished removing his jeans and set them aside on the hardwood floor.

Now came the hard part. She had to get a look at the wound.

He flinched and writhed in pain as she began to undo the buttons on his leather waistcoat and the midnight blue shirt beneath. She picked up one of the towels and held it at the ready while she peeled the layers of leather and fabric away. He hissed and then howled in agony as she raised the shirt and pressed the towel to the deep crimson puddle pooling on his abdomen, allowing the cotton to soak up some of the blood before taking a second glance at the hole in his side. She raised the towel slightly so she could see it better - small, but bleeding profusely. Keep pressure on it, her brain reminded her as she held the towel firmly in place and Killian cried out in protest.

"I'm so sorry. I know this has to hurt but we need to slow the bleeding," she insisted. "Is this a bullet wound?" She had limited experience with pistols, preferring fireballs to firearms, but she couldn't think of any other weapon that would have inflicted this sort of wound.

Killian gave a slight nod of his head as his body trembled through another resurgent wave of pain. "Call...Emma…" he begged, words coming out in staccato through tightly clenched teeth.

"I would if I could," she informed him. "The storm knocked out the power and the phone lines. Wouldn't be a problem if I still had magic, but you've got a pathetic waste of a witch here… Anyway, I had already tried calling her earlier when you hadn't shown up. I thought you'd blown me off…"

"Would...be...bad...form...Got...shot…" he explained what had already been obvious.

"I know that now. I have a tendency to think the worst of people, you know?"

He tried to crack a smile but found it hurt too much. "The…bullet…? Did…it… go...through?"

"I hadn't checked that just yet. Think you can roll onto your left side a bit?" He nodded and did his best to shift his weight to his left hip and turn his body towards the rear of the sofa, giving her a clearer view of his back to search for an exit wound. She raised the hem of his shirt higher and located the slightly wider hole where the bullet had passed through his flesh. "I see where it came out," she told him as she picked up another towel to cover the exit point. She sensed a little relief from him at this revelation. "Is that a good thing?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Better than... a chunk of lead… bouncing around… inside my chest," he grimaced, bracing himself for what he had to ask of her next. "Do you… have anything… to disinfect…?"

He didn't need to finish the sentence as she answered right away. "I do have antiseptic, but you should know, this is going to sting." He didn't really need the warning. He knew and his breath was already hitching in his throat in anticipation as she picked up the bottle that presumably contained the antiseptic she spoke of. It conveniently had an aerosol sprayer for easier application but there was no amount of preparation that could halt the primal, guttural scream that escaped his lungs the moment the substance came in contact with tender skin. The tidal wave of sensations proved to be more than his weakened body could bear as he allowed himself to succumb to the blissful peace of unconsciousness.

Zelena watched him go limp as the dueling howling of the wind and wailing of her daughter echoed through the farmhouse. She could still hear his labored breathing indicating he was alive but there wasn't much else she could do for him. She did her best to patch up the wounds by covering them with clean folded washcloths that she'd sprayed with the antiseptic solution before securing them in place with strips of cloth tape from her medicine cabinet. She tucked the pillow under his head and layered the two additional blankets over top of him to protect him from the drafts making their way around the blue tarp. She could only keep her fingers crossed that her improvised window covering would hold.

It wasn't perfect but it would have to do until the storm passed, she reminded herself as she gathered up the bloody towels and his dripping wet jeans, placing everything into the laundry basket for now. She kicked the basket off to the side as she stood up and headed to the kitchen to wash up, tossing another log onto the flickering fire as she passed by. Once she'd scrubbed away the blood and dried off, she scooped up her teary-eyed daughter who vocalized her displeasure once more as a flash of lighting and an instant rumble of thunder shook the house. Bouncing the toddler on her hip to ease her sobbing, Zelena stared out of her kitchen window watching the rain pelting against the glass.

This was turning into one very long day.

#ouat ff #whump fic #killian whump #cs ff #weathering the storm #tagging this cs even though emma doesnt come in until part 2 #and wanted to keep it in my main tags #is there a friendship name for Killian and Zelena?

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walking-true-to-style · 5 years

Text

For My Life, Still Ahead, Pity Me || B.M.

Pairing: Gwilym Lee! Brian May x Reader (Can be read as Brian)

Song Fic: 39

Words: 2.55K (Not including lyrics)

Warnings: angst, suggested death

Gender: Unspecified

Synopsis: Brian has sent off with the other 19 volunteers to explore space and find new planets. He asks you to write of him while he is gone and promises to return in a year to marry you. This is one promise he may not be able to keep, though.

In the year of '39 assembled here the volunteers

In the days when the lands were few

Here the ship sailed out into the blue and sunny morn

The sweetest sight ever seen

You awaken to the sound of your lover, Brian, packing his luggage. You grimace at the sight.

Right…. Today is the day.

You want to be happy for him, truly. He has been wanting to do this trip since he first began working with 19 other esteemed astrophysicists of the world on this space travel plan. However, you know it would leave your daughter, Emily, without her father for the first full year of her life.

Brian notices you watching him from the bed and comes to sit down by you.

“Go back to sleep, my love. There’s still some time before I must go.” he takes your hand gingerly. You hold it tighter, which makes Brian look up at you. Your solemn eyes say so much more than what you want to let on.

“I’m going to see you off.” you tell him firmly. He seems slightly alarmed at your reprimand, but he knows better than to protest. Instead he replies with a soft smile and a nod. As if on cue to break the tension, your daughter begins blubbering in the room over. You both chuckle.

Brian pulls you up. He aids you in dressing Emily, and you all have breakfast together. You eat in a comfortable silence for quite some time. That was, until Emily thought it would be funny to sputter all her food onto the table

“Messy, messy” you smirk. Right as you get up, Brian sets a hand over yours. “I’ll take care of it, darling.” he assures you. He grabs a napkin and wipes up the mess Emily made and cleans off her face. She giggles and reaches out for Brian. He picks her up and holds her close to him, humming a tune in her ear.

“You are more precious than anything in this world. I wish I could watch you grow.” he coos to her. You feel a weight in your chest as he utters those words. The reality is setting in once again today.

You finish up getting ready and head to the airship harbor on the edge of town. You make it in time for Brian to make his speech after the head of the committee.

“Ladies and gentleman,” he begins. “We, the volunteers, gather here to begin one of man’s greatest exhibitions through space history has to date. Our work has brought us so far, and it will only take us farther. Our mission is to explore past our solar system to the next over in search of intelligent life, new civilizations, and another planet with which we will expand our views to new horizons. Traveling at the rate we are, it should be a year-long trip. We thank you all for your support, and we will return with news of worlds newly born.”

There is a thunderous applause as Brian finishes his speech. He looks to you in the crowd for approval. Judging by your misty eyes, he feels confident in his words. He makes his way to you and wraps you in a warm embrace and places a kiss on Emily’s head.

“You’re going to do amazing things…” you whisper to him. He holds you a little tighter, taking in your scent one final time.

“So will you and Emily.” he replies. He smiles at the sleeping baby on your chest.

“I’m going to miss you.” You dare not look at him at this point, not waiting him to see your tears that threaten to fall with each second. Brian places a soft touch under your chin in silent permission to see your face. You look up at him and the tears that previously prick your eyes fall.

“It’s only a year. I promise I’ll be back not a moment later.” he assures you.

“And then you’ll marry me, right? You ask, half-jokingly. Brian laughs brightly.

“And then I’ll come back and marry you!” He pulls you and Emily into a tight hug, planting a big kiss on your temple. You chuckle back, but the moment is severed by the head of the committee giving the signal for everyone to board. You and Brian exchange a worried glance. You bit your lip as he slips away from you. His hand runs down your arm and grasps your hand last second.

“I’ll miss you. Write of me please?” he asks you before running to the ship.

“I will!” You call back.

“I love you!” his voice echoes through the crowd

Your feelings don’t matter to you any longer. You would not let them stop you from supporting Brian, as much as you will miss him. He is the love of your life, and nothing will separate you too.

Not even space travel.

And the night followed day

And the story tellers say

That the score brave souls inside

For many a lonely day sailed across the milky seas

Ne'er looked back, never feared, never cried

Don't you hear my call though you're many years away

Don't you hear me calling you

Write your letters in the sand

For the day I take your hand

In the land that our grandchildren knew

Days, weeks, and months pass since Brian’s departure. Not once does he cry. The thought of you and Emily keeps him going. Every day he looks back toward Earth where you would be, as if he can feel your doting gaze through the cosmos.

You remain faithful to him. You admit, there is a chasm in your chest as you sit each day without him at the dinner table. Each night though, you take Emily to the beach across town in case the airship comes back early. And each day you would write in the sand in silent prayer for Brian to be safe.

“Please be home soon… I love you.” you say toward the starry sky.

You cope with Brian’s absence by telling stories of your lover to Emily. Though you doubt she understands a word of what you are saying, you can see the same twinkle in her hazel eyes that Brian had whenever he told you about the cosmos.

“When daddy and I first met, he was playing guitar in a band called smile” you emphasize the word to Emily, giving her the biggest grin. She smiles back at you and giggles, sending a warm tingling feeling through your body.

“And the first time he and I danced together in that pub, I knew he was the one.” You sigh happily at the memory.

As a year came to pass, Emily began to say her first word. You sob as you hear her emit the word

“Brian”

Perhaps she does understand your stories.

A year came and passed, then another, then another. The town around you has shifted. People have passed, people have been born and grown….Still, there is no sign of the airship. It breaks your heart, but you can only think the worst has happened.

Your lover is gone.

Still, you return to the beach every day with Emily, who at this point has grown into a beautiful young lady, and write letters in the sand, praying that Brian would return and marry you and share the rest of your life together.

“Why do we still return?” Emily asks you as you sit, listening to the waves beneath the blanket of night. Your gaze remains fixed on the cosmos above. It felt as if, if you looked hard enough, maybe you can see the airship.

“I suppose,” you sigh. “I still have hope that Brian is still out there…” your eyes trail the cosmos as your finger traces in the sand idly. Emily deflates slightly.

“I admire your dedication.” she says, defeated. She gets up from the sand and offers you a hand.

“It’s late… we should go home.” she tells you. You look to her, and you swear you can see so much of her father in her.

“You go on ahead. I may stay here a little while longer.” you tell her. She wants to protest, but she understands what this means to you. She gives you a nod and backs up slightly.

“Don’t stay out too late.” Emily demands softly. You nod to her and bring your gaze back to the horizon.

“Be safe Brian.”

+++

Years and years follow still, and still you go to the beach at night to watch for the airship. Your hope and dedication never fade in your growing age. Emily has since moved out and married a young man and bares children. She passes down the stories you told her in her youth. By this point, 20 more years have come and gone. You haven’t seen Emily in years. She comes back to your home with her family, though, when she receives the news that you have fallen ill in your waning age.

There you lay in the town’s hospital. You feel like a cyborg what with all the machines they’ve hooked you into. You stare blankly out the window, still gazing at the sky. Your mind was numb from the medicine the doctors gave you. All was quiet until a knock came at the door, snapping you from your trance. “Come in.” you call hoarsely. The nurse that had knocked pokes her head into the room before slipping in.

“(Y/n), you have some visitors.” the nurse tells you. You look at her in confusion.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone, but send them in.” She nods and ushers to your mystery guest outside. Your jaw nearly drops to the floor as a familiar face poked its head around the corner.

“Emily…” you felt damn near a sheer heart attack.

Though older now, likely in her 40s at this point, Emily was still as beautiful as ever. Her belly is swollen. She must be expecting soon. One more person enters. A male, likely her husband.

“Hey there.” Emily smiles weakly at you. Her tone is hushed. You take in the sight of her beautiful family and a few tears fall from your eyes. Emily rushes over to you and envelopes you in a careful hug.

“Wha- What are you doing here?” you asked her, shocked. She almost snorts at your question. “You think I wouldn’t come see you when I got the news?” Emily looks between insulted and concerned for you.

“Well. I’m glad to see you.” you grin at her. Suddenly you break into a coughing fit.

“Are you okay? Do I need to call a nurse?” Emily blurts quickly. You put up a hand as to say “no”

“I don’t need to see them again. What are they gonna do? Shove more needles in me?” you ask between coughs. You mean it to be a joke, but it comes out much more bitter. Emily chuckles sympathetically. As your coughing dies down, Emily begins introductions.

“Oh, uh. This is… Tom, my husband. Tom, this is (y/n).” Emily motions to the man leaning in the door. He steps up and takes your hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” he offers. You nod.

“And who will this be?” you inquire, bringing a soft hand to Emily’s belly. She looks down fondly at the lump.

“We haven’t decided yet, but we’ll let you know.”

You spend the rest of the day chatting and catching up, learning what Emily was up to for the last 20 years after she left home. She seldom came to visit, not that you mind. You understand her duties were with her new family coming along, though, you still missed her, and you make sure to tell her. She apologizes to you, and you forgive. Then, it came time for Emily to return home.

“I’ll come back again in a few days. I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

In the year of '39 came a ship in from the blue

The Volunteers came home that day

And they bring good news of a world so newly born

Though their hearts so heavily weigh

Years come and go once again. The Earth has passed around the sun many times more. Emily has born her child, affectionately named “Mercury” after one of Brian’s and your mutual friends that Emily had come to know while visiting you at the hospital. While you were there, she and her family kept your tradition of visiting the beach at the edge of town, looking into the sky for the airship that carries your lover through the cosmos. Emily passed down the same stories you once told her as a child to Mercury. Emily then grew old after you and so did Mercury, who then kept the tradition going with their family as well.

It was a cool autumn night when the day came that an airship sails back into the sky harbor. A tall man with curly brown hair stands at the front of the ship awaiting eagerly to touch the ground he has so dearly missed.

“Many changes happened to this city while we were gone, eh, Bri?” a scientist comes up from being him. Upon further speculation, Brian notices just how vastly different the cityscape below is. Buildings have shifted, plants have been cut down and grown elsewhere, cars look incredibly different than they did before. It weighs his chest slightly.

“I.. suppose it does, yes.” Brian replied, cocking a brow. Still, it is his home and he is relieved to see it, no matter how different it seems. The airship touches the ground and the volunteers file out.

“No one is waiting for us. Not to sound ungrateful, but I expected just a little pomp and circumstance!” a man grumbles to his friend by Brian. “Maybe we’re ahead of schedule?” another pipes up.

“No way! One year exactly. We’re fine.” says a third. Brian sifts through the crowd. He ends up by the beach. There he spots a familiar figure, drawing in the sand. Though, they look somewhat older.

For the earth is old and grey, little darlin' we'll away

But my love this cannot be

For so many years have gone though I'm older but a year

Your mother's eyes from your eyes cry to me

“(y/n)! Oh, my sweet! I’m back! I missed you!” he yells. The person looks to him and gets up to greet him. He brings them into a tight embrace, picking them up and spinning them in the process.

“Brian?” they say almost in disbelief. He sets them down, nodding ecstatically. “Yes! Yes, I’m back, my love. Oh, we found so many new planets! So many worlds! I’ll tell you over supper!” he plants a million kisses on them and they wriggle free. Brian lets them go in confusion.

“(y/n)? Love, what’s wrong?” he asks, hurt by the action.

“(y/n)... That was… Wait, You must be (y/n)’s husband, but I don’t understand- you’re so young I-”

“Wait,” Brian stops dead. “What do you mean? W- Who are you? You look just like my (y/n).” his eyes are wide in fear.

“I’m Mercury. Emily- your daughter- is… was… my mother.” Mercury states with worry in their eye.

“I don’t understand. I was only gone a year!” his hazel eyes are wide with anxiety and insanity, trying to process what Mercury is saying.

“Brian, it’s been 100 years since the volunteers set off. Everyone assumed you all died already. Well, everyone but (y/n).”

“I don’t understand.... So you would be.”

“Your grandchild, yes.”

Brian runs a shaky hand through his hair. He rubs his temple with his thumb.

“So that would mean…” he trails off. Mercury offers a sympathetic look and sets a hand on Brian’s shoulder. “I’m sorry…” they offer. Brian falls to the ground, sobbing.

“Oh no…. No, no no…. (y/n)....” was all he could choke out between sobs. He gripped at Mercury’s coat, tears staining the fabric.

“I’m sorry.” Mercury says, rubbing his back. There they remain for a long while, as Brian processes the true length he has been gone.

He’d never see you again.

He’d never see Emily again.

All he has now is Mercury, the only remnant of your legacy. A spitting image of you.

Don't you hear my call though you're many years away

Don't you hear me calling you

Write your letters in the sand

For the day I take your hand

In the land that our grandchildren knew

Don't you hear my call though you're many years away

Don't you hear me calling you

All your letters in the sand cannot heal me like your hand

For my life

Still ahead

Pity me

A/N: Sorry it took so long! I really hope you enjoyed!

Taglist: @brianharoldmaysguitar

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cjdemooi · 5 years

Text

I contracted HIV in early 1988 while I was sleeping on the streets and earning a little money as a beggar and prostitute in London.

I had been feeling unwell so went to the Chelsea and Westminster hospital. I had a blood test and was shortly after told of the diagnosis. The only emotion I felt was relief and, walking down the road, I remember smiling broadly. This was it. My brief but awful life was coming to an abrupt end and frankly I was glad.

I grew up in an atmosphere of racism, homophobia and violence, had no friends and had been bullied daily at school. I was told repeatedly that I was worthless and unloved so was now facing the right and proper outcome. I actually had something to look forward to.

Later in the year I stowed away on a ferry to Amsterdam as I simply didn’t want to die in Britain. While there, something changed. I met an English guy called Keith who worked at the Dutch version of The Salvation Army. We talked and he even let me stay with him for a few nights as I was, shall we say, somewhat different to most of the clients he encountered.

He persuaded me to see a doctor and start taking medication although I was very loathe to do so. I agreed because he was the first person I’d ever met who was genuinely kind to me without demanding anything in return. He only wanted to help. He was my inspiration and the reason that since then, I’ve volunteered for HIV and homeless charities. I began helping out at the Army immediately even though I was still officially using their services.

The medication I began taking was not at all pleasant. A daily dose of 30 capsules, each quite large and to be kept refrigerated. This meant it was a very uncomfortable sensation to swallow each one. I began dreading the next batch of 5 to such a point that I was dry heaving every time. In addition they had quite severe side effects and I became increasingly unwell and frail.

My physical appearance wasn’t helped by the development of dark blotches on my skin, most noticeably my arms. This was Kaposi’s Sarcoma, a cancer known to be an AIDS Related Compound. The capsules weren’t working, I was becoming very ill and needed to escape. I made a half hearted suicide attempt with another young man I knew from working in a brothel as I’d just given up. I didn’t go through with it as to take my own life would, as I saw it, give too many people satisfaction. I was too angry for that.

Amsterdam had now become synonymous with my impending death so I jumped on a train to Cologne. I was begging outside a bar and, by pure luck, was presented with the opportunity that finally got me off the streets.

A few weeks later, having finally secured a long term job and accommodation, I began tentatively to think about where I should go from there. I’d never believed I was going to have, or deserve, any sort of future so this was a brand new concept. I started new medication, this time only 8 tablets a day, although their dimensions made them far more suitable for horses! The Sarcoma on my arms faded over time and my CD4 count began to cautiously rise. I continued with the same regime throughout my time in Germany, another stint in the Netherlands and eventual return to Britain in 1995.

I’m still not sure why I came back but I was inexperienced and naive so the procedure to apply for residency or full time employment in Europe may have seemed daunting.

However, I think this was a mistake. As soon as I got back I became very depressed and stopped taking the drugs. My health immediately deteriorated and, as has been well documented, a large tumour developed in my mouth. After trying to ignore it for many months, I had surgery.

By now I had met the man who I would one day marry but in the early days I was a less than pleasant partner. I knew I’d fallen in love with him the very first day we met but kept pushing him away. I had no doubt I wasn’t going to live to see the millennium so what was the point? I didn’t want to hurt him by dying or hurt myself by being forced to leave him so early.

Against the odds, he stuck by me and would not leave. He persuaded me to start with new medicine so I was put on a course of only 4 tablets a day which was far more manageable. He talked to me, supported me and most amazingly, became the first person to love me.

My health improved (it’s true what they say about the love of a good man!) and I grew fitter and stronger. In about 2007 I changed medication once again, this time to just 2 tablets a day. I began running which is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made as the benefits have been sensational.

Then, in 2016, my world was destroyed. My career, reputation and livelihood were decimated in one fell swoop as lies upon lies were published about me. I was on a downward spiral but was still relatively okay. Unfortunately, in mid 2017 matters deteriorated severely and my physical and mental health did so too.

Towards the end of 2018, my doctor advised I was so seriously ill to be hospitalised. The stress and pain of everything I was going through was quite literally killing me. My CD4 count dropped below 100, I visibly lost weight and became lethargic and withdrawn. My doctor wrote to the other side pleading he was seriously concerned about me and there were terminal risks due to the pressure I was under. This letter was completely disregarded and described as irrelevant. I had lost everything and now my house was in imminent danger. I was about to become homeless with an AIDS diagnosis. Through no fault of my own, everything was about to come full circle.

My supporters, especially on social media, kindly contributed to a GoFundMe page that was set up and for which I am immensely grateful. It’s unlikely to raise enough save my house but the longer I can fight, the better. The problem is, how long I’ll have the strength to do so.

A few weeks ago, my doctor desperately switched my treatment, now down to a single tablet a day (a far cry from the 30 cold capsules all those years ago) and it does seem to have helped. I’m also on iron and vitamin supplements in an attempt to maintain vitality.

The fact is, I’m still seriously ill although thankfully back from the brink I was on earlier this year. My immune system was almost obliterated and I was so vulnerable, any infection might have killed me. In preparation, I wrote my will, not that I had much of anything left to give.

Even after all this time, people continue to lie about and bully me. Only this time, they’re willing to gamble with, or even destroy, my health. My doctor closely monitors me and I see him for a variety of blood tests every 8 weeks. He has suggested other invasive procedures which may help but I have refused, at least until the current situation is resolved and I feel stronger.

I still don’t want to die in this country but, more urgently, I don’t want to die because some cowardly bullies think they can get away with it.

I am not defined by my HIV status although it of course has a daily impact. Even someone as fit as me can be reduced, shockingly quickly as was all too obvious for everyone to see recently, to a very weak shadow. I am seriously ill and cancer remains a lingering threat but I can’t live my life in fear. I don’t know how much time I’ve got but I now have, and deserve, a reason to fight.

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remembertheplunge · 4 months

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Striking the set

On the back of a drawing of a man on a couch that I “painted”in 1986, I wrote the following;

Over “Striking the Set” November 19, 2086: a reaction to the first weekend Hand to Hand, The Aids Plague hits.

_________________

I later felt this was a picture of Daryl Speicher in his last days here. It was a good likeness painted before I met him. He, of course, was not a couch person. But he did die 2/3/1987.

He was my first match.

11/29/1987 a day of reflection—

________________________________________

June 27, 1987

This is actually a painting of Glen Miller. His beauty so overwhelmed me. His tragic truth so shocked me, and later, his courage in death’s parlor so inspired me.

His mother called today “Glen passed away at 7 or so last night."

The angel of energy visits the couch. The final curtain descends.

Of the four men on the couch that November day, Glenn is the first to go.

John Hickman died 10/25/1987

Al Adami died July 3, 1987

Joel,still alive and doing very well. Still with life energy.

God Bless them always.

End of entry

Note:

I have had this painting which I entitled “striking the Set” hanging for over 30 years. I took it down today to relocate it, and realized that I had written notes about it on the back of the painting.

Those notes are included above.

I lived in Sacramento, California from about may of 1986 to August 1987.

While there, I applied to work in an Aids support group called Hand to Hand. I had to be interviewed prior to acceptance. Al Adami interviewed me. I later learned that Al had Aids. I was shocked as the first person I knew who had it. During the training for Hand to Hand, a Doctor who ran the training named Elizabeth and Al did a dying scene for we 15 or so trainees. Elizabeth helped Al “die”.Powerful experience. As Hand to Hand volunteers, we would help people with Aids through their illness and death.

I am including a photo of the “Striking the Set” painting and what I wrote on the back in the next blog post.

I had been in three plays in 1985-1986. When a play ends, the stage set is dismantled and taken away. This is called “striking the set”.I borrowed the term for my painting, since Aids in 1986-1987 usually meant striking the set of a life.

Glen Miller’s tragic truth was that at maybe age 30, he had Aids and was dying. John Hickman and Al Adami were also about my age then, early 30’s.

Glen Miller wanted to live to see his June birthday in 1987.

A group of we Hand to Hand volunteers went to his house. We brought champagne and cake. We sat around his bed once floor and laughed and talked. Glen drank some champagne, ate some cake and seemed to be happy.

As I was arriving at his house someone from in side was playing the song “Michael Row Your Boat Ashore” by the Highwaymen. When I hear that song now, I think of that haunting moment.

#11/19/1986 #Aids #Hand to hand #Aids support volunteer #journal #writing #journaling #multi media art to portray life during aids plauge

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amandajoyce118 · 5 years

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Friday Five: Everyone Needs Clean Water

Today is World Water Day. It’s the one day of the year where people who don’t pay attention to the plights of those around the world actually care about the fact that not everyone has clean water.

Case in point: It’s been five years and Flint, Michigan still doesn’t have clean water because the government doesn’t care enough to fix their pipes. If you want to help them out, Mari Copeny is still working with the group Pack Your Back to distribute water locally. You can donate to her ongoing fundraising efforts here.

Like a lot of communities that don’t have safe drinking/bathing water supplies, Flint gets a lot of attention a few days a year, and then people move on. In the spirit of World Water Day, this week’s Friday Five (sorry, I know I missed last week, but I’m trying to spend less time on the computer, and less time aggravating an injured hand) focuses on five more groups raising money for clean water projects all over the world. I wanted to focus on smaller groups, not ones like Charity: Water that already have celebrities endorsing them.

If you don’t have the money to make a donation to a group on World Water Day, volunteer your time, give social media attention to a group that does good water work, etc. Links for each organization are in their headings.

Five: Planet Water

Planet Water currently works in 13 different countries around the world. They’ve now got financial support from companies like Coca-Cola and Starbucks, so they’ll likely continue to grow. They build AquaTowers in communities that have a built in filtration system to eliminate bacteria. In addition to the clean drinking water provided, they also set up hand wash stations at the towers. The tower is actually a more sustainable practice than most because it just requires cleaning and maintenance throughout the year - which they train community members in, as well as provide them with spare parts for potential repairs. In addition to providing that clean water, they also teach about hygienic practices at the schools in the community.

Four: Blood:Water

This organization specifically works with groups promoting clean water in African nations. Rather than go into communities and take over operations, they provide resources to grassroots organizations already doing/wanting to do the work. You can see some of the groups they work with here. In addition to helping communities gain access to clean water, they’re also helping communities eliminate the spread of HIV/AIDS. We see in the news all the time about breakthroughs in medical research, but in African nations, HIV continues to spread because of lack of understanding about prevention. There just aren’t enough education opportunities in poor communities still. This group wants to change that. Of course, the downside here is that because they’re essentially funding other groups, there’s a lot of paperwork and red tape to get through. Only about $0.68 of every dollar makes it to the actually organizations on the ground. The more money they have, the further it can go.

Three: Pure Water For The World

This group works primarily in developing nations. Like a lot of the groups in my list, they don’t simply send outsiders into the field to work. 90% of their field staff is actually from the areas where they work. They train families and classrooms in safe water practices, sanitation, and hygiene. Their fieldworkers are provided with water filtrations systems to install in homes and schools, as well as setting up single family facilities for those who don’t have them. They work with local doctors to treat parasites, and they also follow up regularly in communities where they’ve provided aid.

Two: Generosity.Org

One man with money to spare started this organization because he wanted to help. He started working with getting clean water into underserved communities. Over a decade later, he’s got more help, and they’ve expanded. Now, they don’t just give access to clean water. They also provide medical aid, legal assistance, and disaster relief. They even have a mentorship program for young boys in Haiti called The Field Of Dreams (named for the movie) that helps them engage with young people in the community. (The one downside for me, personally, is that this group is faith-based. I think when an organization bases their assistance on their faith, lines can be blurred, and volunteers tend to focus a lot of energy on converting people instead of helping them, but they also do a lot of good work, so I wanted to include them.)

One: Three Avocados

Founded by one man after taking a trip to Uganda, this isn’t just a charity. Three Avocados is a non profit business providing jobs and a product. They sell coffee (and related products) that is harvested in Uganda. 100% of their net profits go to providing clean water for the region where their fields are. They also offer wholesale deals if restaurants or stores want to sell their coffee. Obviously, they accept donations as well, but this business helps create work and sustainable living for the community they provide water for, and I think that provides a more lasting impact.

Here are a few facts for you:

Every year, about one million deaths around the world are attributed to lack of clean water.

Approximately 700 kids under the age of five die everyday from illnesses related to contaminated water.

More than 150 million people around the world have to collect water themselves without running water in their homes. Of those people, 4 out of 5 households rely on the women (or female children) to do that collecting.

About 4 billion people (that’s about half the planet) experience water scarcity for one month out of the year.

That’s it for this week. I hope you guys enjoy your World Water Day!

#world water day #three avocados #planet water #blood: water #pure water for the world #generosity org #do good #friday five

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cjwmagic1123-blog · 5 years

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Physician-Assisted Suicide: Humane or Heinous?

Dr. Roger Kligler is a retired internist who found himself in the middle of this debate. At 50 years old he was diagnosed with prostate cancer that was believed to be curable. After rounds of cancer treatment, Dr. Kligler was put into remission. However, after 5 years, Dr. Kligler went back to his oncologist and was informed that not only was his cancer back, but it was terminal. After attending a medical lecture regarding “medical aid in dying” he became an advocate for the cause through Compassion & Choices, the foundation partially responsible for the passing of the End of Life Options Act in Massachusetts (I’m a doctor with end-stage cancer. I support medical aid in dying). Dr. Kligler’s case is a prime example that even the most unexpecting can be snarled up in cancer’s poisonous grasp. As an aspiring doctor, I want Dr. Kligler, and others like him, to know that they are not alone in this battle. Physician-Assisted Suicide is a tool in the very profound toolbox of a doctor that allows them to give their patient a final sense of peace. PAS postulates the end of suffering to terminally ill patients that would otherwise continue on the heinous, drawn out path to death.

Now it is time to get to the root of the topic. Is Physician-Assisted Suicide human or heinous? This phrase can be quite startling at first glance. There is undeniably a hefty negative connation associated with suicide that causes people to initially balk at the term. However, we must strive to remain neutral and focus on the real meaning behind the term. In the article, Physician-Assisted Suicide: Two Moral Arguments, the author does a beautiful job of really owning in on the different meanings of this term and how they apply to each individual medical case. She splits the term in “drug-providing” and “drug-injecting” (Thomson 506). Drug-providing is the process of a doctor knowingly writing a prescription that contains a dose of a drug that will be lethal to the patient. Drug-injecting is when the doctor is actually the one who administers a dose of a drug, usually morphine, that will end their life. This poses the question: are people really sick enough that a doctor feels it is within their medical rights to end their life?

Without experiencing a hardship personally, it is hard to imagine exactly what is feels like and to come up with the best possible solution to fix it. Agrawal and Emanuel write:

For many people, death in modern advanced societies is inherently undignified. Terminally ill patients are connected to tubes and machines; they experience pain, shortness of breath, and other excruciating symptoms; they are unable to get out of bed, feed themselves, and even go to the bathroom alone; they are cared for in impersonal institutions (Death and Dignity: dogma disputed 2026).

The picture painted by these men is not one that anyone would like to volunteer to star in. Unfortunately, after visualizing it, many people’s minds will immediately jump to a family member that has experienced this. My grandmother was diagnosed with a terminal cancer, meaning she would eventually die because of this cancer and there was nothing in the world that could stop it. This is a harsh reality that many individuals face. According to the National Cancer Institute, “approximately 38.4% of men and women will be diagnosed with cancer at some point during their lifetimes (based on 2013–2015 data)” (National Cancer Institute). In a standard classroom, that’s 10 out of 30 people. While we wish we could hide under the covers, the cruel reality is that statistically cancer will be a part of everyone’s lives at some point. So, what do you say to someone that’s diagnosed with terminal cancer? “Fight, you’ll beat it?” Unlikely. “Don’t worry, it won’t be that bad?” Also unlikely. “Everything will be okay.” Depends on what you think “okay” exactly is. “Fatigue, pain, appetite changes and problems breathing” are listed as physical symptoms in the last 2 to 3 months of life (American Cancer Society). That simple list doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world. Ok, I get short of breath every now and then, and sure I’ll be tired but I can nap all day. What they don’t mention is that often the pain cannot be controlled with medication, that “appetite changes” is vomiting constantly and not being able to enjoy any food. So again, I ask, what do you say to someone suffering like this? If it were me, I know I would not want to go on this way. I would exercise my right to ask a doctor to show humanity and end my life through Physician-Assisted Suicide.

Ryan Anderson, a writer with a Ph.D. in American Principles and Public Policy, states that legalizing Physician-Assisted Suicide would:

1. Endanger the weak and vulnerable,

2. Corrupt the practice of medicine and the doctor–patient relationship,

3. Compromise the family and intergenerational commitments, and

4. Betray human dignity and equality before the law. (Four Problems with Physician-Assisted Suicide).

The emotional struggle that doctors feel when there is nothing else they can legally do for a patient that is still suffering immensely is not easy. This option would strengthen the relationship between them as they are finally able to provide them with peace, not the contrary like he is suggesting. While Anderson’s other concerns have more grounding, because of the sensitivity of the matter I find it more than hard to imagine that these circumstances would come true. The amount of litigation and procedures that would be required for PAS to take place would trump his rising concerns. Concluding that PAS is the best option for a patient is no hasty decision. It is in a doctor’s nature to explore every possible route for their patient. From clinical trials containing experimental drugs to alternative medicine, a doctor will look at every possible outlet before just settling that PAS is the best option. The weak and vulnerable would not be endangered because of all the hoops doctors would have to jump through to even suggest PAS. In fact, according to legislation multiple doctors must confirm that patient’s disease is terminal before the topic of PAS can be present (Frequently Asked Questions).

In conclusion, I ask you to ponder what it means to be in unbearable pain, and really come to terms with exactly what PAS is. I pray that you never find yourself in a circumstance where you have to think about it again, but if you do, I hope that you will be better equipped to understand what it means.

Works Cited

Agrawal, Manish, and Emanuel, Ezekiel J. “Death and dignity: dogma disputed” The Lancet, vol. 3, Citizens News Wire, 28 December 2002, www.citizensnewswire.org/files/Ezekiel20021221_Death_and_Dignity.pdf

Anderson, Ryan. “Four Problems with Physician-Assisted Suicide” Health Care Reform, The Heritage Foundation, 30 March 2015, www.heritage.org/health-care-reform/report/four-problems-physician-assisted-suicide

“Cancer Statistics.” National Cancer Institute, www.cancer.gov/about-cancer/understanding/statistics.

“FAQs - Physician-Hastened Death.” Death With Dignity, www.deathwithdignity.org/faqs/.

Kligler, Roger. “I'm a Doctor with End-Stage Cancer. I Support Medical Aid in Dying.” STAT, STAT, 6 Feb. 2018, www.statnews.com/2018/01/31/medical-aid-in-dying-doctor/.

“Physical Symptoms in the Last 2 to 3 Months of Life.” American Cancer Society, www.cancer.org/treatment/end-of-life-care/nearing-the-end-of-life/physical-symptoms.html.

Thomson, Judith Jarvis. “Physician-Assisted Suicide: Two Moral Arguments.” Ethics, vol. 109, no. 3, Apr. 1999, pp. 497-518. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/10.1086/233919?origin=JSTOR-pdf&seq=1#page_scan_tab_contents

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callonclare · 2 years

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Palliative Care Services: The Key to a Good Death

The best death is one that is peaceful and dignified, surrounded by loved ones and in control of one's own destiny. For many people, palliative care is the key to achieving this type of death. Palliative Care Services Melbourne is a type of healthcare that focuses on providing relief from the symptoms and stress of a serious illness. It can be provided alongside other treatments, or as the main treatment for a person who is near the end of their life. In this post, we'll discuss what palliative care is, who can benefit from it, and how to get it.

What is palliative care?

Palliative care is a type of care that focuses on relieving the symptoms and stress of a serious illness. The goal of palliative care is to improve the quality of life for both the patient and their loved ones. Palliative care can be provided at any stage of an illness, and it's never too late to seek help. Palliative care services can include pain relief, emotional support, practical advice, and spiritual care.

What are the goals of palliative care?

The goals of palliative care are to enhance the quality of life and provide comfort for patients and their families. Palliative Care Services Melbourne can be used at any stage of a serious illness and is not just for people who are dying. The goal is to provide relief from symptoms and pain, as well as support for patients and their families. Palliative care teams work with patients and their families to develop a care plan that meets the patient's individual needs.

Who provides palliative care?

Who provides palliative care? Palliative care can be provided by a team of health care professionals, including doctors, nurses, social workers, and chaplains. But the team can also include other members of the community, such as home health aides or volunteers. The goal of palliative care is to provide support to the patient and the patient's family members so that they can make the best possible decisions about their care.

What are the benefits of palliative care?

Palliative care provides relief from the symptoms and stress of a serious illness. It focuses on the person's quality of life, not just their length of life. Palliative care can be provided alongside curative treatment or as the main treatment for a serious illness. Some of the benefits of palliative care include:

Relief from pain and other symptoms

Improved communication and coordination of care

Support for caregivers

Better quality of life for patients and their families

How to find palliative care services?

If you or a loved one are terminally ill and nearing the end of life, palliative care services can provide much-needed support. These services can be found in hospitals, hospices, and private practices. If you're not sure where to start looking, your best bet is to ask your doctor or local hospital for a referral. Once you have a few options, it's important to do your research and find the right team of caregivers who will support you through this difficult time.

Conclusion:

Palliative Care Services Melbourne is a specialised form of care that focuses on relieving symptoms and improving the quality of life for patients who are nearing the end of their life. Palliative care services can be extremely beneficial for both the patient and their loved ones and can help make the final days as comfortable and fulfilling as possible. If you or a loved one is nearing the end of life, be sure to seek out palliative care services in your area.

Source By - https://bit.ly/3FEKqDn

#PalliativeCareMelbourne #RespiteCareMelbourne #MelbournePalliativeCare #PalliativeCareServicesMelbourne

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your-dietician · 3 years

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Why Police Have Been Quitting in Droves in the Last Year

New Post has been published on https://depression-md.com/why-police-have-been-quitting-in-droves-in-the-last-year/

Why Police Have Been Quitting in Droves in the Last Year

ASHEVILLE, N.C. — As protests surged across the country last year over the death of George Floyd at the hands of the Minneapolis police, Officer Lindsay C. Rose in Asheville, N.C., found her world capsized.

Various friends and relatives had stopped speaking to her because she was a cop. During a protest in June around Police Headquarters, a demonstrator lobbed an explosive charge that set her pants on fire and scorched her legs.

She said she was spit on. She was belittled. Members of the city’s gay community, an inclusive clan that had welcomed her in when she first settled in Asheville, stood near her at one event and chanted, “All gay cops are traitors,” she said.

By September, still deeply demoralized despite taking several months off to recuperate, Officer Rose decided that she was done. She quit the Police Department and posted a sometimes bitter, sometimes nostalgic essay online that attracted thousands of readers throughout the city and beyond.

“I’m walking away to exhale and inhale, I’m leaving because I don’t have any more left in me right now,” she wrote. “I’m drowning in this politically charged atmosphere of hate and destruction.”

Officer Rose was hardly alone. Thousands of police officers nationwide have headed for the exits in the past year.

A survey of almost 200 police departments indicated that retirements were up 45 percent and resignations rose by 18 percent in the year from April 2020 to April 2021 when compared with the previous 12 months, according to the Police Executive Research Forum, a Washington policy institute.

New York City saw 2,600 officers retire in 2020 compared with 1,509 the year before. Resignations in Seattle increased to 123 from 34 and retirements to 96 from 43. Minneapolis, which had 912 uniformed officers in May 2019, is now down to 699. At the same time, many cities are contending with a rise in shootings and homicides.

Asheville was among the hardest hit proportionally, losing upward of 80 officers, more than one third of its 238-strong force.

The reason has partly to do with Asheville itself — a big blue dot amid a sea of red voters in western North Carolina. Residents often refer to the city, a tourist mecca of 90,000 people tucked into the picturesque Blue Ridge Mountains, as the South’s version of Austin, Texas, or Portland, Ore.

Protests are commonplace, although none in recent memory had roiled the city quite like those prompted by the death of Mr. Floyd. Asheville has removed its three Confederate monuments, including the obelisk that dominated the central square for more than 100 years. In June, the City Council agreed to earmark an initial $2.1 million to pay reparations to the Black community of more than 10,000 residents.

The police already had come under criticism in recent years, churning through half a dozen chiefs in the past decade amid widespread complaints about overly harsh policing. Often cited is a case in 2019, when an officer pleaded guilty to assaulting a Black man after an argument over jaywalking — at night with few cars on the road.

The past year’s racial justice protests brought these long-simmering tensions swiftly back to the surface.

“There was a cloud over the building,” said Chief David Zack, 58, adding that younger officers were particularly traumatized by the events. “We knew we were going to be in trouble. I don’t think we ever anticipated getting to this level.”

The fact that the protests were directed at them pushed many officers to quit, he said. “They said that we have become the bad guys, and we did not get into this to become the bad guys.”

A sense that the city itself did not back its police was a key reason for the departures, according to officers themselves as well as police and city officials. Officers felt that they should have been praised rather than pilloried after struggling to contain chaotic protests.

Low pay deepened the frustration. With a starting salary around $37,000, few officers can afford houses in Asheville, where housing prices have sharply increased in recent years.

Finally, officers said they were asked to handle too much; they were constantly thrown at tangled societal problems like mental health breakdowns or drug overdoses, they said, for which they were ill-equipped — then blamed when things went wrong.

Officers who left said they endured a barrage of “good riddance” taunts on social media. Some said they were accused of leaving because the higher level of public scrutiny meant they could no longer beat up people of color with impunity.

One sergeant who quit after a decade on the force, who did not want his name published because of the aggressive verbal attacks online, said last summer had chipped away at his professional pride and personal health. He could not sleep and drank too much.

In September, somebody dropped a coffin laden with dirt and manure at the front door of Police Headquarters. “The message was taking a different turn,” Chief Zack said. “The message was not about police reform, but, ‘We endorse violence against police’.”

Of the more than 80 officers who left, about half found different professions and the other half different departments, Chief Zack said. New careers included industrial refrigeration, construction, real estate and pharmaceutical sales — anything far removed from policing.

Some officers decided that Asheville was the problem. Alec N. Dohmann, 30, a former Marine infantryman, could not afford a house in the city, and the rage directed at officers during the protests shocked his wife, who watched it live on Facebook. He took a police job in nearby Greenville, S.C., and bought a house.

“It is night and day,” he said. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ll be in uniform and someone comes up and shakes my hand, thanking me for what I do.”

The George Floyd protests in Asheville lasted just four or five nights, far less than in other cities, yet many activists said they remain alarmed by the degree of force police used against demonstrators.

Officers fired tear gas to disperse them, and in one widely criticized incident, the police ransacked a medical tent, chasing off the volunteers, slashing water bottles and destroying first aid supplies.

City officials seemed torn about how to respond. At first Chief Zack defended the officers over the medical tent episode, saying water bottles were constantly heaved at officers, but he apologized amid the subsequent uproar.

Mayor Esther Manheimer dropped into one daily police briefing, lauding the department’s efforts. The very next day, she publicly accused the police of mishandling events, several officers said.

Ms. Manheimer, mayor since 2013, said in an interview that the city was facing a “clash of cultures,” and that she had “obviously not perfected” her efforts to “thread the needle of supporting law enforcement employees, but at the same time demanding and calling for needed change.”

Calls for defunding the police have continued, with many Asheville residents saying the department’s problems started long before last year’s protests.

Rob Thomas of the Racial Justice Coalition grew up in what he described as a “drug house” in the now gentrified North Side. He said the Black community has long felt targeted, and he learned early that there was an unwritten rule among police officers that they would beat anyone who ran from them.

To him, the officers’ leaving is not a big concern.

“The ones who left are collateral damage of people advocating for change,” he said. “It is not these individual officers who are so bad or so wrong; the system itself is kind of messed up.”

Recruitment all over the country, given negative attitudes toward the police, has also become a slog, prompting Asheville to approve a modest salary increase. Several other cities, hearing about the mood among the police in Asheville, put up billboards there hoping to attract officers who were ready to move. It takes roughly a year to train new officers in Asheville, and of seven who started in December, six have already quit, Chief Zack said.

To make do, the A.P.D. has trimmed its services even as shootings and other violent crimes escalated, a trend that has been seen across the country and which many experts have connected to disruption from the pandemic. The police received about 650 calls for “shots fired” last year, Chief Zack said, and there were 10 homicides, compared with seven the year before. Aggravated assaults were also up.

The department shuttered a downtown satellite office, stopped bicycle patrols and is making fewer traffic stops. It published a list of 10 incidents to which it would no longer dispatch officers, including some vehicle thefts, and urged citizens to file simple complaints online rather than calling.

All but one of the seven officers who investigated domestic violence and sexual assault left, so the department is trying to get three officers up to speed on the skills needed.

“A lot of our experience is walking out the door,” Chief Zack said.

With a third of the police force gone, some activists and residents said they worried that the city would squander an opportunity for change, hiring replacements instead of exploring alternatives.

Justin Souther, the manager of Malaprop’s Bookstore, said that what he considered police overkill during the George Floyd protests renewed his conviction that Asheville should not be as reliant on law enforcement for dealing with issues like the homeless people who inhabit downtown. “People need help, not punishment,” he said.

Jill Coleman in the Spice & Tea Exchange echoed those sentiments, yet admitted that she was worried when she heard about rising violent crime.

“People might be feeling a little shaky with not seeing police around, but it is also exciting to think that change is coming,” she said.

Officer Rose, leaving the police after seven years, first worked for a moving company started by a fellow officer who had also quit. She felt angry, tired, disgruntled and like a failure all at once, she said. She slept badly and had no appetite.

“My story is not unique,” she said.

Some time in January, she decided she wanted to retrieve her badge, to give it to her grandfather, who had pinned it on her when she had completed her training.

She had to apply to Chief Zack to get it, she said. Leaving the police had been the hardest decision of her life, she said, and the chief dangled a job as a community liaison officer designed to make the department more transparent to the public.

Plus in an effort to “humanize the badge,” he had relaxed some of the rules. She could now wear short sleeves, for example, displaying the bursts of floral and other tattoos on her arms. Her wife, an Asheville native, endorsed her return as well.

She said yes.

Officer Rose said she still nourishes the idea first planted when she joined the police that she can make a difference in people’s lives, but she is more wary. “It was a rude awaking,” she said. “It’s like you are in a loving relationship, and then all of a sudden you are dumped and you don’t know why.”

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whimsicalworldofme · 6 years

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Say My Name

Rey and Ava have started their own Jedi school, teaching young adults in the ways of the Grey Jedi in an attempt to counter the fact that the First Order has been benefiting from the aid of the Knights of Ren. But when Ava insists on going to retrieve a student on a planet known to have First Order presence, Poe objects, and with good reason.

(This is the final piece of the puzzle that connected the fall of Luke’s school to the chapter in which Ava tells Kylo about their son. So to those of you who have been reading since I first posted that angsty Ben/Ava scene thanks for sticking it out!)

Word Count: 3098

Content Warning: Mentions of death and violence. None graphic.

“I have a very bad feeling about this,” Poe held Ava close to him, his hands on her hips, their bodies so close together they might as well have been one person. No one else on the launch pad paid any attention to them. They were used to the Colonel, his wife, and their shameless displays of public affection. Anyone else in the area just worked around them and kept their mouths shut. In the last couple of months Ava had gone off to retrieve five Force sensitive teenagers and young adults to train with her and Rey. Things were going well in the lessons, despite her initial misgivings.

“You say that every time I go,” Ava smiled, giving him a soft kiss and brushing her fingertips through his hair. He’d started greying at the temples which she found she liked a lot. Life in the command room added to his stress and probably contributed to the silver hair and a few more lines in his brow and around his eyes. Ava’s going off planet probably didn’t help either.

“Well it’s true every time,” Poe gazed down at her with lingering concern, not bothering to mask it with a forced smile. “What if something happens to you?”

“And every time I remind you that anything can happen to any of us no matter where we are,” she replied cupping his face. “I will be back in two days. Luke will be here the whole time for your moral support. And when I get home,” she got up on her tip toes to whisper in his ear, “I’ll do that thing you like.”

Going back to the flats of her feet, Ava saw Poe’s face turning bright red as he licked his bottom lip and chuckled, stammering a little in a poor attempt to find a response. Her pilot, Benjamina, stood awkwardly off to the side, hands clasped behind her back, and cleared her throat. She had her long dreadlocks tucked under a scarf and was garbed in attire common to a desert dweller. Ava had on similar clothes, tan and dusty, but hadn’t tied on her scarf yet, planning to do so in the ship.

“Colonel,” she nodded to Poe who was still grinning like an idiot, before turning her attention to Ava. “Ma’am, we need to take off now if we’re going to keep on schedule.”

“Thanks, Benjamina,” Ava smiled. “I’ll be right there.”

The pilot nodded, turned on her heel and strode back into her ship. Ava put her hands on either side of Poe’s face, drawing him in for one more kiss goodbye.

“I love you,” she said before stepping back, his hold broken.

“I love you too,” Poe’s fingertips trailed along her hip as she stepped away.

In the ship, she took her seat and fastened in, looking at the faces of her team. They’d gone on every collection mission with her so far, so they knew the drill. Benjamina and Cassian, named for the famous Rogue captain, were their pilots. They always had to have two in case something happened to one of them. And then there was her security team, which Poe had insisted on, Ardin and Vala. Personally, Ava thought it would be easier for her to get the job done on her own, leaving her pilots in the ship and getting the new students herself. They had to meet in remote locations, secretive places where their discussions couldn’t be overheard. It required a level of stealth that three people in a group could never have compared to just one woman.

This particular mission was risky, Ava knew that when she volunteered to collect the girl from Bektrix. The First Order had established a presence there, but it was small still. Ava was a nobody, not a pilot or leader, just a cook. No one would recognize her, and no one would bother to see what she was up to. The Resistance had procured a ship, non-descript, untraceable, and small, for the sole use of Rey’s little project of gathering up Force sensitive students. Everything had gone all right on all the prior retrievals, so Ava felt confident this would be the same when they touched down some distance from the dusty, sand-blown city. The girl they’d come to retrieve was about seventeen years old, with dark midnight skin like Benjamina’s. She spoke of being confused how she could do the things she could. Her name was Eden and she held bright, earnest, passionate light in her grey eyes when she spoke of how she wanted to help free everyone of the tyranny of the First Order.

“We can train you,” Ava told her. They were in Eden’s home, a small two-story cob structure connected to a row of others just like it on either side. “But it will mean coming away. Your family can come and join the Resistance if they want, but it won’t be easy.”

“It’s just me and my mother,” Eden turned to look at the woman in the kitchen washing up from the tea she’d served their guests. She was older, frailer. Ava thought she must have had Eden very late in life. “She says she’s too old to pick up and leave her life behind. But she wants me to go.”

“And you’re ok with that?” Ava had to ask because emotional stability was key to success in training as a Jedi. “You might never see her again if you do. I want you to be aware that’s a real possibility.”

“I am,” Eden nodded, resolve set in her face. “My mother is ill. We’ve already said our goodbyes many times over. She wants me to use whatever this gift is to save other people.”

“If that’s what you want, then we’ll take you with us,” Ava didn’t know what else she could say. “We have to leave now if that’s the case. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Eden took a deep breath and got to her feet. Ava stood too, going to the door where Ardin and Vala waited. They always looked so stern and imposing, blasters at their hips, jaws clenched. Ava tried not to be nosy and watch as Eden hugged and kissed her mother goodbye. She felt a pang in her chest at the mother’s tears, knowing she would never see her daughter again. It made her think of Luke and his fears every time she left base and her fears over him getting more and more into his cadet training. He wanted to fight. She wanted the war to be over before he was grown enough to do so. She’d be happiest if he became a farmer, no danger, no risk, no violence.

Ardin advised Benjamina over the coded commlink that they were heading her way. Ava drew her scarf back over her hair when Eden walked to the door and ushered the girl out. They were almost out of the city when Ava felt something amiss. The hair on the back of her neck stood and she sensed a presence she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

“Vala, get Eden to the ship,” she instructed quietly. They had orders not to question her if she demanded they split up. “Ardin, with me.” They split into pairs, trying to make it look as much as possible like they hadn’t been together to begin with. Adin and Ava went left, heading further into the city and Ava sensed someone following them but the other two were left alone.

“You there,” a Storm Trooper popped out in front of them at an intersection, blaster up. “What are you doing here? This is a restricted area.”

“Stand down,” a cool, woman’s voice came from behind and Ava’s stomach turned. She knew that voice. The last time she heard it, it had been a little higher in pitch from youth, but she knew it. And if the voice hadn’t given it away, the presence she felt through the Force did. “Turn around, Ava” the woman commanded.

Ava hoped and prayed that Ardin would keep his cool as they turned slowly, hands in the air. Standing a few feet away, robed in black, face marred with scars, brown hair buzzed short on the sides but braided down the middle, stood Renata. Ava had once considered her a friend, helped her practice the basics of Force control at Luke’s school. She held such a burning hatred in her gaze that Ava wondered why she didn’t shoot on sight or at least try to Force choke her.

“You look well for a dead woman,” Renata sneered. “The Supreme leader would be very interested to hear that you’re still alive…”

“I had a feeling you would’ve been one to go with Ben,” Ava shook her head. “You were always too ambitious for your own good.”

“Maybe I should do the Supreme Leader a favor and finish you now,” Renata raised a hand and Ava went to counter but Ardin reacted like a fool and drew his blaster.

“No!” Ava shouted as Renata used her raised hand to rip the blaster out of his hands and shot him with her own blaster using the other. Ardin dropped instantly and Ava reached out to the Force for strength as she threw Renata as hard as she could, sending the younger woman tumbling several yards. But she’d forgotten the Storm Trooper, remembering him too late as he knocked her out with a blow to the head from the butt of his blaster.

~ ~ ~

I have to get back home, Ava woke with a start in a holding cell, shackled to an interrogation chair. She took a moment to study the sparse metal walls, metal floor, and the two gleaming white bucketheads standing guard on either side of the door.

“She’s awake,” one of the troopers noted to the other who nodded and pressed the button to open the door, going out and shutting it behind him with a bang. They were clearly on a Star Destroyer. She could feel it. There was something about the fake gravity of a space ship and the whir of the engines that she had always been able to pick up on.

Think Ava, she didn’t worry about the binds on her hands for the time being. Before she even considered getting out of them she needed a plan. She had enough rudimentary piloting skills to possibly get back to the planet she’d been on, unless they’d traveled too far. How long was I unconscious? Her head hurt, and the bright white lights of the room weren’t helping. I could get to any planet. If I get a tie fighter or something small, slip out, they might not notice I’m gone for a while. I can activate my tracking beacon and get somewhere neutral until a more skilled pilot can pick me up. Or find a ride…

Her thoughts turned to Poe and Luke, knowing that Poe was probably demanding a rescue party be put together already. In her mind she could clearly see the pain in his beautiful dark eyes. She knew that Benjamina would have taken off back for base if she hadn’t returned within two hours. Those were the orders she’d given if she were ever captured. No looking for her, no half-assed rescue attempts. She had to find a way out of this to get home to her boys. She had sworn she wouldn’t use the Force. She didn’t want to take any chances that Kylo would catch a hint of her presence.

But what are the odds he’s nearby? Their fleet is massive. He’s probably not even on this ship.

She took a deep breath and licked her lips, feeling a bad split that must’ve happened when she fell. It was bleeding still, and she licked the blood away. Her whole body hurt and there would undoubtedly be bruises in an hour or two. She shut her eyes and waited, unsure what to do next. Renata was sure to be nearby. Since she had left her alive, Ava figured that she might want to at least try to extract some information out of her. She needed a plan before that happened.

The door schwicked open. Ava had no idea how much time had passed since she woke. She glared up at the door expecting Renata, only to find a different but familiar, imposing presence in the frame, stopping her heart. His thick black hair hung almost to his shoulders. She saw his scar in person for the first time, still astonished that he had managed to survive that fight. Ava knew he’d gotten it on Starkiller Base. Rey had told her about their duel. He stepped forward, towering over her. The door shut behind him and Ave felt her heart racing so fast now that it hurt. Her mouth had gone dry in her panic as well. But when she looked at Kylo, looked at his face, there was something there that astounded her; shock and an aching pain in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, paused, and shut it again. Ava waited, silent, knowing that he probably had a million questions stampeding through his mind.

“Get up,” he commanded, undoing the bonds on her wrists with a wave of his hand. Ava got to her feet a little slowly, the pain of the day’s events catching up with her body. She noted a glint of concern in his eyes, but he didn’t act on it and she didn’t know if she’d want him to anyway. It passed as quickly as it had come. Once on her feet, Kylo grabbed her wrists and handcuffed her. Without a word he hooked a hand under her arm and led her out of the tiny cell.

He nearly dragged her through the ship, not even trying to go at a pace she could match. It reminded Ava of days in training when he’d get moody and she would try to cheer him up, but he’d just storm off. She always had a hard time keeping up and now her injuries made it more difficult. They came to a large room, still sparse, a few belongings, a bed, a table. Ava gaped at the calligraphy set he’d kept in his hut. She realized they were in his personal quarters. But a firm shove snapped her out of her wondering confusion. Kylo loosened his hold and studied her with a furrowed brow and intensity from a slew of emotions lighting his hazel eyes. She could see the gears turning in his mind.

“You were dead. Your presence…it was gone.

Ava didn’t say anything, she just looked around the room, completely confused as to why he’d brought her there of all places. Small signs of Ben, especially that calligraphy set, permeated everything in his personal space. Anyone who didn’t truly know him wouldn’t ever know it, wouldn’t pick up on it. She couldn’t think of anything to say. This was the last place she wanted to be, and she had already begun putting up walls in her mind so that if he went probing around he couldn’t see everything.

“You cut yourself off from the Force,” he concluded. He looked like he was mentally berating himself for not realizing that sooner. “That’s why I couldn’t sense you anymore.”

“You’re the one who wanted me dead,” Ava stated. “I gave you what you wanted.”

“I saved you!” Kylo snarled, his face twisting up in anger.

“What?” Ava tried not to think too much about the events of that night, but she knew that he had pulled her hut down on her, that she should have died. Everyone else had died more gruesome deaths, cut down by the fiery blade of his corrupted saber.

“You were the only survivor, weren’t you?” He was harsh, but Ava nodded. “Did you really think that was an accident? A coincidence?”

She had, actually.

“Why am I here?” She looked around and wondered if she could sit somewhere. But she wasn’t about to try it. This wasn’t the place to get comfortable. “I don’t know anything.”

“You do know something,” Kylo squinted at her with a nod. “Renata said she found you with a Resistance fighter. You’re still Resistance. I can sense it. Of course, you are,” he sneered. “You wouldn’t leave your…family,” he put so much derision in the word that Ava wondered which memories from their shared past he was battling. He lumbered over to the desk, grabbed the chair and banged it down next to her. “Sit.”

Ava didn’t even flinch in the wake of his rage. She had seen his temper as children. She knew it stemmed from his own fear, his own insecurities. Shaking her head, she refused the seat, despite wanting one. Instead she held her arms out in front of her.

“Are these necessary?” She nodded at the handcuffs. “Do you really think I’m enough of a threat to warrant them? I know they took my blaster off me. And you know you’ve always been stronger in the Force. For kriff’s sake, Ben.”

He flinched when she used his name, his whole face contorting with an indistinguishable mix of emotions. With a scowl, he removed the cuffs and tossed them aside. He stepped forward, getting uncomfortably close, staring down at her, his brow furrowed, biting the inside of his cheek.

“What were you doing on Bektrix?” He demanded. Ava squinted up at him, scrutinizing him, trying to examine his thoughts, his feelings. The conflict she felt was agonizing. “Stop that,” he snarled, stepping back, recoiling almost as though she’d struck him. “What were you doing on Bektrix? What does the Resistance want there?”

“You can’t even say my name,” Ava realized. “You really did think I was dead all this time. And now you can’t process the fact that I’m not.”

“Shut up!” Kylo snarled, his hand going up reactively, binding Ava in place as he glared at her. “You will tell me what you were doing on Bektrix!”

“Mind tricks don’t work on other Jedi, Ben,” she reminded him gently, thinking back to that day in the cave, knowing he was prodding around in her mind already. If she could throw the past at him, send him off balance, she might be able to get the upper hand.

“I will get the information I require,” he stared her down, a curt nod, his lips set, eyes wild. He stepped closer, his hand nearing her temple as he pressed into her mind.

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womencommunityonlineblog · 3 years

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Why Helping Others Is Important

Always help someone because you might be the only one that does. We can tackle any crisis in life by staying affirmative and helping others. In this post, Know-why helping others is important? how helping others helps yourself? and how you can find your best opportunity to help others.

Helping Others Helps Yourself

A good human is the one who treats others with kindness, one who gives happiness and forgives those who are the reason for your pain. A good human is one who helps himself by helping others. Just do good and do not take revenge on anyone as it is better to leave some things into God's hands.

Helping others does not mean that you have to ditch your job and start helping others. Helping is not just about money, it can be any act of kindness. Random acts of kindness like helping others by giving your time, ideas, motivating someone, complimenting someone, thanking someone, giving an ear to someone, forgiving someone who hurt you, etc. These acts of kindness can not only do good for them but, can also be a good thing to do for ourselves, as it makes us happier and healthier.

How Helping Others Benefits You

Helping connects us to others that help build a stronger community for a happier environment. If you own an amiable, generous nature and you are a philanthropist, then you are wealthy as there is no shortage of anything in your life if you possess these qualities. Even if you face any kind of hindrance in your life, you will overcome them easily because of your positive aura and blessing and all your legitimate desire will also be fulfilled. So let us find out how benign it is to help others.

Right from our childhood we are taught to helps others, but as we grow older, we forget this training of our life. This lore should never be allowed to fade away from our life because helping others is good for us and others. When we help someone, we achieve internal chastity which makes us feel affirming and satisfied. Also, helping others helps us create a better version of ourselves along with many benefits.

Helping others makes our life more satisfying. It inspires us, others, and set a good example for everyone. Helping others helps us define the purpose of our life. Whenever you feel low just try to help someone, animals, or birds and see how good you will feel. Helping others and showing kindness towards others not only makes you feel good and happy but also makes you a better person.

How To Help Others

Every day so many people, birds, and animals suffer either due to hunger, vulnerability, hard circumstances, or an unfortunate event. It is our moral duty to help such people. There are many ways to help them depending on their situation. First, help them by understanding their circumstances and finding the best way to help them. Just talking, being compassionate, and skillful is not enough, we also need to give generously give our time, maintain self-discipline, be patient, and firm while working towards helping others. Below are seven simple ways to help others.

Be concerned about people suffering from any illness or disorder. Ask them, call them, providing emotional support that can help to reduce their tension and stress. Try to lighten someone's burden and help them wane off any bad or difficult situation. Guide those who are differently-abled and help them forget their inability. Help underprivileged children in their studies.

Give your time in the shelter house or old age home, and offer a hug or bring smiles to faces of those who are lonely or have seen dark time.

Be compassionate to all animals not just your pets. Feed starving strays, help find a home to the abandoned animals, or rescue an injured animal. Don't abandon your pets due to old age, disease, financial reasons, or family problems. Animals can show love, compassion, co-existence, and acceptance and so can we.

Show respect and help to those who help us or serve us. We must appreciate and understand the importance of their hard work and help them either by providing them with financial security, insurance, festival or sick leave, bonus, or helping their children. Don't forget they are human too.

Console someone, lend your ear, or a helping hand to someone victim of abuse or violence. Sometimes listening to someone, giving a warm hug, and acceptance is all someone wants to heal their wounds.

Comfort someone going through difficult times due to losing something failed relationship or the death of a loved one.

Make your charitable donations without busting your budget and provide financial aid to the needy, NGO, or charitable trusts that work for the welfare of people, children, or animals. Donation is not just of money, you can even donate your stuff like shoes, clothes, etc. as many charities and nonprofits organization accepts donated goods.

"Help someone, not for the reward, but for the sake of changing a life."

Volunteering your efforts, money, energy, or time to help someone gain a sense of security and happiness should be the only purpose of helping others. There are many ways to help others. Sometimes people suffering the most are not vocal about it. Our ability is not only in identifying how and in what form we can help them but also in understanding when to help, how much to help, and in what circumstances to help. Don't just help to take credit or to look good, help others selflessly, only if you do care for them, and have respect for them. Helping others is a path to a meaningful life and a learning process. We learn something new about ourselves and others by helping others. Therefore, in our global fight against the COVID-19 pandemic, try helping the most vulnerable in our society.

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