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nelllraiser · 4 years

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soul in control | frank & nell

TIMING: before nell’s drowning via constance. LOCATION: outside soul on the rocks. PARTIES: @frankmulloy and @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: an accidental use of pheromones leads to panic for both parties involved. CONTENTS: panic attack, ptsd symptoms, drug manipulation (accidental pheromones), non con (accidental pheromones) SPECIAL NOTE: i’ve included a more in depth, and less trigger focused summary here for anyone who might be hesitant about reading! there are still mentions of the triggers, but in less detail.

Frank took in the empty bar with a calm appraisal, one could say that he was almost relieved. For most, the new day would soon begin, for Frank that meant it was time to gather his losses and head home. Tonight’s loss, thankfully, was just the one black eye, and through the murky window he could see the shadow already looking a lot less severe than it was a few hours ago. Nothing time, and supernatural healing could not make quick work of. His focus brought back to the task at hand, Frank gave one last survey of the bar’s inside for any outstanding job that the night’s bustle had distracted him from, once satisfied that everything was in its right order, he put in the bolt that sealed the entrance to the bar and pocketed the key. Turning his gaze toward the road, his eyes fell on a lonesome figure by the roadside, and his wavering thought turned rigid. The silhouette alone was unsettling on a night (well, close to morning now) so still, so quiet, upon seeing who it was, Frank was careful to conceal any unease with as much casual grace as a hard day’s labour and a black eye could muster. “A little late.” He put a cigarette into his mouth, not yet lit, the stick hanging lazily on the corner of his lips, bobbing with the movement of each syllable. He looked around, as if to make sure that his statement was in fact true, “everyone’s already gone. Bar’s closed.”

Nell was just coming in off her evening as well, though it hadn’t been the night crowd that had kept her awake. Her profession always called for flexible and strange hours, and it didn’t help that her sleep was still so often unsettled after all the events of the summer. Technically she hadn’t even been working her job in these parts of the Bend, but being as close as she was to the old site of the Ring— she hadn’t been able to resist scouting out the area near it, especially after learning that they were trying to rebuild. However that meant walking by Soul on the Rocks, and as she shivered in the early morning air she squinted towards the shape that was lingering in front of the bar’s doors, perhaps already thinking of the time she’d bitten an unsuspecting bartender before realizing the very same man was the person hovering by the entrance. “If it isn’t my old nemesis,” she began with a tease, the rough edges she’d had the evening of their meeting somewhat smoothed over in the light of the day. It was easier to be cordial when she hadn’t just finished throwing punches, and been dragged out of a bar. “I’m not here for the bar. This was just on my way home.” But as she drew closer to where Frank stood, and the sun barely winked over the horizon, she could see a mottling of darkness over that man’s eye. Instantly her brow furrowed towards its center, a small frown tugging the corners of her lips southwards. “What the hell happened to you?”

Around the breath of a chuckle (because that was all their history and his pride was not quite willing to grant her a laugh just yet) he said, “har-dee-har, you’re a regular comedian.” Though Frank’s features sobered somewhat, the tender mirth whipped away by the new piece of information that she had just fed him. “My condolences if you live around here,” he said and the old bar, that was a few chipped paints and leaky roofs away from being decrepit and one health code violation away from being dilapidated, solemnly echoed his sentiment. The buildings did not get better the deeper you went into the Bend. Most of it, casted into the shadow of the luxurious New England style living on the other side of town, and the even larger shadow across the river. It was not a very nice place to live. He should know, he lived here. “Oh shit, right...that” With a light shake of his head and a breezy wave of his hand, he dismissed Nell’s concern, although was quietly touched that she was. “Occupational hazard. You’re not the only one that likes to through their fist around. I was just standing on the wrong side of it.” An occurrence that was happening with increased frequency. You’d think Frank would have gotten used to it by now, but the pain that answered his tender touch was a harsh reminder that just because it happened more often, didn’t mean that it hurt any less. “It’s nothing, trust me, it just looks worse than it is. Come more it’ll be as if it was never there.” Perhaps that was more truth than he’d meant to give, and he sidestepped quickly with a glance at his watch, skillfully playing into the casual banter that apparently existed between them. “Which reminds me...it’s almost my bedtime. But I mean, do you need a ride home or would you like me to walk with you?” While morning light was not far off, the shadows from the previous night still lingered and, from experience, Frank learned to exercise wariness of what might lurk behind it.

“Har-dee-har?” Nell quipped back in a single moment with a healthy dose of judgment in her voice. “Who actually says that? What are you like- seventy or something?” The levity of her initial and well-meaning jibe was still folded between the spaces of her voice, not wanting to bring back any of the energy that had gotten her nearly tossed onto a curb. At least- not right now. “Oh no-” she promptly rectified, not wanting to give Frank the wrong idea. “I don’t live that close by. It’s just I was coming from that way-” she paused to gesture towards Amity Road, “and I live that way.” This time she vaguely pointed in the opposite direction of her first indication, which left Soul on the Rocks smack dab in the middle of it all. In all honesty, Nell had been raised in a family that was perhaps a bit too well off, and only recently had financial troubles begun to plague her in the form of hospital bills and being essentially disowned along with her sisters. At least Bea’s house where the trio of Vurals lived was all paid for. They didn’t have to scrounge for a place to stay or anything along those lines. Perhaps a little too late, she remembered to say something nice about the area, realizing that Frank might live around here. “Ah- I mean it has its charms, though. The rats in this part of town are the most talented.” Okay...perhaps it’d come out a little less polite, and leaned more towards a simple joke to diffuse any possible tension. Her defensive nature was quick to flash back to her features as he mentioned the bar fight, and Nell shifted on the balls of her feet. “I didn’t punch you! And I didn’t give you a black eye. Just you know...bit you,” she ended her sentence as a stubborn mumble, as if saying it quieter would make it less true. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder just how often this ‘occupational hazard’ made a mark on Frank. “I have a salve-” she mentioned seemingly out of the blue. “It could help...if you want.” Offering assistance to him didn’t come as naturally as it would had she been talking to someone she knew better, but the extension of it helped gnaw away the corner of some of the guilt that was flickering in her stomach. “A ride?” she repeated in the same way she’d echoed ‘What?’ when he’d asked if she was okay after the altercation in the bar. Nell simply wasn’t used to being the one offered a form of protection, even if it was one as simple as walking home. More often than not she was the one fending off supernatural threats or whatever White Crest had decided to throw at its citizens that day. “I mean- it’s kinda far. I live in the Outskirts. Basically in the middle of nowhere.” But as if the universe had heard Frank’s concern of what might be making a home in the shadows, a bonedoggle seemed to appear from thin air, shadow hopping into place beside the bar. “Or you know what?” Nell amended hastily. “Actually- I could use some company on the way home. I mean- what better way to end the day, right?” And what better way to get Frank away from the supernatural pup?

Frank’s reply came out in a pleasant, “hmm,” as he reached into his pocket for a lighter, neither denying nor concurring to the jibe about his age. He was not without days where he felt the age that she had jokingly assigned him with, and there were more days that he felt it than there were without. A wariness that was felt to the bone. A cigarette offered a temporary salve, alas the real desire came at too great a risk for him to indulge in more than what was absolutely necessary. He recognised immediately the look of pity and then the gradual transition into regret. Were he a kinder man he would have stopped her then and there, and spared her the mortifying ritual of having to explain one’s meaning for fear of offense or misunderstanding. Frank pocketed his lighter, curved lips parting around a wispy chuckle, “it really doesn’t.” He said, but his real meaning was clear: I live in a dumpy part of town. I know. It’s fine. Her indignation was answered with a patient rise of his brow. Perhaps she had forgotten the series of events that led up to her biting him in the first place. His hand fell on the phantom mark; any evidence of the bite having existed was gone by that morning, though forgetting the experience was not so easily achieved and a lot more time consuming. “Yes, you’re right, that is much a lot better.” Yet, what was this? An offer of salve? An extension of kindness, even? Guilt made saints of us all it seemed, he thought, smiling, “I’m good, but thank you.” Though the smile quickly smoothed over to an expression of quiet curiosity. The incredulity was familiar, and then Frank was reminded of the other night and the little piece of information that he had filed at the back of his mind about Nell. He regarded her with sympathetic interest, like one might do an injured creature, without condescension but with great warmth-- and perhaps a little pity. “You’re not used to people looking out for you, are you?” No that wasn’t quite right. “At least no one that had any ulterior motives anyway-- Oh, you don’t have to answer that. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

Frank sought for the cause of her sudden shift in demeanour, but found little else saved a small black dog--albeit a sickly looking one, sniffing about the shadows, but nothing that warranted any great concern. “Right...um, well I’m not going to walk you to the outskirts so...car’s this way.” Was that a dog toy stuck to its hind leg? He took one last drag of the cigarette and put it out with his boot. Probably best if he didn’t watch too closely, or think too hard on it. He learned that in this town, nothing good ever came out of doing either.

Nell knew just as well as any other person on Earth in the year 2020 that smoking wasn’t good for you. But she barely knew Frank, and she’d never been one to try and police someone she’d met only once before on their lifestyle unless it was harming others. So instead of telling him how cigarettes were killers, she smirked lazily before raising a hand to try and playfully flick at the glowing cherry at the tip of it. It wasn’t hard enough to knock the cig from his lips, just forceful enough to be a nuisance. “It does,” Nell insisted stubbornly, refusing to give into what was probably an act that was meant to take pity on her or something of that like. “I mean- I’m here right now, aren’t I?” It’d be easier to steer away from the awkwardness of the conversation if she made a pointless quip about herself. “That’s a definite plus.” Her head cocked to the side in a tease, as if inviting Frank to join in so that they could both escape that particular line of conversation. “Yes, I know it’s better,” she replied with an air of continuing to see just how much she could push with Frank. Thus far, he’d proven to be exceedingly patient— even when she’d been practically yelling in his face the other night. Sure he’d also had a moment of passion, but he’d proven that he was rather adept at reigning it in. Nell on the other hand had never been even remotely good at keeping her emotions and subsequent reactions in check, no matter what they were. His denial of the salve caused a small thread of disappointment to shoot through her. After all, her offered help had been genuine, and just because she herself had caused him pain— it didn’t mean that she took any joy in seeing another’s violence enacted on him. “One day-” she began, almost in a threatening tone. “One day you’re gonna accept my salve. And you’re gonna like it even if you don’t like it.” Her index finger had come up to emphasise her point, her arm lifted embarrassingly high in order to get it to align with his nose in a chastising shake.

Nothing could have prepared Nell for what he said next, it being so seemingly out of the blue in when it came to her expectations. “I-” The beginning of her answer cut off, somewhat shocked into hesitation at Frank’s audacity to say something so unnervingly unexpected and personal. “That’s not true,” she began hastily. It wasn’t for the most part, right? She’d always had her two older sisters looking out for her whether she’d wanted it or not. Especially when it came to Bea. And their love had been unconditional, even if Nell hadn’t always felt like it was. In reality...most of the love she’d gotten in her life had felt conditional until a year or so ago, though she still couldn’t be sure of all of it. “That’s not true,” she repeated, more calmly this time. He said she didn’t have to answer, but pride made her want to set him straight. “I guess I’m just more used to being the one offering help.” Even moreso in these last few months she’d gotten accustomed to carrying the weight of every problem that came her way. It had begun with Bea’s death and resurrection, only snowballing from there. Responsibility was no light burden to bear, and she didn’t often share it if she could help it, preferring to shoulder it alone. But at the same time it was true that much of her youth had been spent not asking for help because she knew she wouldn’t receive it. Perhaps it had become more of a habit that she’d realized. That was a far off thought as she warily watched the bonedoggle. The thing looked a little worse for the wear, perhaps a little malnourished. Maybe she could loop back around once Frank was gone and try and wrangle it for Jared. It’d be safe and well cared for on her nymph friend’s farm. “Hey, you’re the one that mentioned walking. It’s not my fault you did it before knowing where I live.” The witch tried to call back their more casual air, not wanting Frank to think that anything was wrong. Turning towards the direction Frank had mentioned his car was in and away from the pup, Nell’s heart dropped to see a familiar silhouette now in front of her despite her best efforts. It seemed that the bonedoggle had jumped into one of the shadows between them and the car. “Oh- ah- looks like it’s a stray,” she quickly tried to cover. “I bet it’s just hungry. I think I have something in my pocket.”

Wordlessly, Frank lifted his chin to avoid the determined swipes of playful fingers. He was tall, but what she lacked in height Nell made up for with persistence and a great enthusiasm in trying to get a rise out of him. His own pleasure was in the resolution of impeding the enjoyment of hers. “Oh yeah, and here I was thinking that the rest of my night was going to be quiet and peaceful. Lucky me, now I have you to steer it in a completely different direction.” He said through smoke and teeth, and then deciding that the safest place for his cigarette was between his fingers lest she was successful in riding him of it. Cigarettes weren’t cheap. At least not on his bartending budget. Perhaps he ought to take Ariana’s joke about venturing into the bodyguard business more seriously. His expression gave no indication of his drifting trail of thought, however; steeped in patience and calm appraisal as he listened to her…was that a threat? Something about the finger pointed at his nose said that it was, or at least trying to give the impression of one. “Sure Bitey,” he said, mouth curving into a mild pleasant smile (he was not completely oblivious to the strangely amicable reaction her nuisance elicited in him) as he calmly guided her finger away from his face, “one day. Just not today.” Frank couldn’t help the slight tilt of his head as Nell began her explanation. For a moment, all Frank did was watch as the woman digested his words, and then grappled at pieces of her thought, deciding what she was willing to share and what she’d rather keep omitted. She seemed uncertain at first, or at least taken aback, but slowly gaining more confidence as she was gradually verbalising those thoughts, feeding him bits and pieces of information that she was not at all obligated to give, and did anyway. She insisted that he was wrong, although her initial hesitation seemed answer enough. “Hmm,” Frank took a drag of his cigarette and glanced back at his companion with a smile, “maybe it’s worth thinking about why that is.” Jesus H, he needs to spend less time at his shrink’s office. “Or you know, don’t. Do whatever you want, I’m not your boss.”

Frank’s car was the only one in the lot, and it wasn’t much to look at: a beat up old 60s ford that’s seen its best days past and was now holding together only by sheer will and scotch tape. Still Frank loved it enough to refuse to buy another car, and was proud enough of it to take mild offense to anyone who might have a bad word to say about it. Half of the people he knew did, the other half thought it suited Frank perfectly, though the latter did not seem like as much of a compliment as one might think. The key on the driver’s side took a bit of work and some gentle persuasion on Frank’s half. “Yeah, and why don’t you take the damn toy off its hind leg while you’re feeling generous.” The words felt nice to say (strange) although the weight of it did not register with Frank until the car door finally opened, but Nell was no longer at his side. “Bitey?” He said, but she was walking away from him, an odd almost possessed determination in her stride. “I was kidding Bitey, leave the poor dog alone.” But she did not relent, and the closer she got the more agitated the sickly little stray became, its little teeth gnashed together as a warning. That was when Frank noticed the odd glow in its eyes, something not dog-like at all. “Come on kid, I was just fucking around.” He had her arm now, holding her back but he could feel her resistance. “Nell, seriously, stop.”

The controlling pheromones and silver tongue came over Nell just as quickly and efficiently as they had with Jax all those months ago below the Ring. Just because they hadn’t been as targeted and intentional as the despicable gancanagh’s didn’t mean they were ineffective. The creeping sensation of a need to please— the need to do whatever that lovely voice was asking of her gripped her in its iron hand, quickly making it feel as if her muscles had a mind of their own, moving her along of their own accord towards the bonedoggle. And yet...as the familiar sensation came over her another emotion rose to greet it, rearing its ugly head as it too fought for control of her. Panic wormed its way through her chest, feeling like a metal vice around her lungs as her breathing grew harsh. “Stop it-” were the first two words to find their way through the heaving of her uneven breaths. Whether she was talking to her own legs or Frank was unclear, and not even Nell knew which it was she was commanding to cease fire. Powerless. Out of her own control. Just like she’d been as Montgomery stood over her, readying to behead her in the middle of the forest. Just as she’d been as Jax clamped a magic inhibiting bracelet on her wrist and had her walk herself to her own jail, a cage she’d sit in for a week without being let out to so much as stretch her legs, given just enough food and water to survive and nothing more. “Stop it!” she yelled out fiercer this time. The saltiness of her unnoticed tears gathered on her lips. She could taste it. Salty like Bea’s blood had been when she’d woken up to find her sister dead and headless beside her.

Who the hell was Frank, even? Was he like Jax? How did she know he hadn’t been sent to avenge the death of the gancanagh Nell had lended her hand to? What if the Ring had found her? What if this was their attempt to bring her back? To lock her back in that cage and make sure she never got out this time around? Rationality was lost as these questions ricocheted off every hidden corner of her mind, growing louder each time they collided against one another. It felt like nails were clawing at her throat, crushing what little air she had between their fingers to wrench it back— all the way down until she couldn’t breathe. And yet...beneath all of this was that sickenly sweet feeling of wanting to do whatever it was Frank commanded, to retrieve that dog toy for the man who’d requested it if it was the last thing she did. It took her a long moment to even realize that Frank had latched onto her, but when she did her first reaction was violent, a blast of pure and instinctual magic exploding forth from her to throw him off. “Don’t touch me!” she yelled savagely- desperately. He’d take her to the cages if he got her in his grasp. Put that bracelet on her and make sure she never saw the sun again. But still her legs carried her towards the hound that now nearly lay in arm’s reach. The shadow hound’s ears were flat against its head, not welcoming of this new development in the least. It wasn’t attacking, but it’s fangs were bared in a warning snarl as Nell drew closer, the pulse of magic having made its fur stand on edge.

For one starved of heat, the sudden explosion might have been welcomed, had it not burned right through Frank. Not even his wings, whose instincts were usually better than even his, could withstand the sudden force, Nell’s magical tempest took his breath and then his feet as it hurled him into his car as if he weighed nothing. The metal groaned in protest at the sheer force of the impact, flat on his back Frank was left in a daze and in considerable pain, his car--he didn’t even want to look, although this proved an easy task as there were more pressing dangers to occupy his concern. The shadows seemed to birth more hounds, each one bigger, uglier, and meaner looking than the last, sporting an armour of bones and...dog toys? Apparently, the stray wasn’t as alone as they had first thought, and one after the other, pairs of glowing green eyes followed Nell’s path and there was nothing benign about the way the dogs bared their teeth. She was going to get herself killed, and it was going to be his fault. The weight of that reality was too gruesome to bear, so the natural course of action was to do everything in his power to rebel against it. Frank grappled at any shred of strength he had left, and to will those that were not there into existence. A new fire burned through his veins, nothing owed to any magic or supernatural inheritance, but pure, human, adrenaline. Magic had thus shown its usefulness (which was not at all) and a gentler approach had proved its effectiveness in the Frank-shaped dent that warped the length of his passenger door. He could not afford another blow, lest she pushed him too far out of reach, where he could not get to her in time. And while Nell’s pace was not hurried, it was determined, and not slowing.

“Fuck.” The human approach it is then. “I’m really sorry about this, but this will probably hurt me a lot more than it’s going to hurt you.” Without thinking too much on it, or allowing Nell the same courtesy, Frank threw his entire weight into her, throwing her off her spellbound path. Her back pressed hard against his chest, her arms trapped beneath his. His entire body twisting at the last second so that his back bore the brunt of the fall. That was probably not a very smart thing to do, and he was fairly certain that that was her elbow against his ribs. Turns out, breathing was significantly more difficult when you have the entire weight of another body on top of you, which was not helped by the fact that he was also thrown against a car only moments before. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” There was nothing graceful in the way Frank literally grappled for her skin, the struggle was a hurried and desperate one--with lots of flailing. At last his fingers found the soft span of skin on the inside of her wrist. The pulse hummed with life, warmth, he could feel his own matching in chorus. “Please stop Nell! For god’s sake, stop! Please, please stop!” And she does, and Frank felt a shudder of warmth pass through him. He had her now. The thought was not his own, yet it spoke with a honeyed smile and beckoning fingers. It would be so easy to just...eat. She wouldn’t feel any pain, they never feel any pain, hell, she’d probably enjoy it. With a groan, Frank dropped his arms. She rolled off him and he could breathe again. He’s so tired. It’s an ache that sank deep into his bones. He’s so fucking tired.

Despite the utter panic gripping every inch of Nell’s body, there had still been that hopeless need to get the dog toy off the bonedoggle or die trying. Fighting the sensation had only proved useless, just as it had when Jax had her in his grip. In fact, her silent throes against the fae ability had only made things worse. The more she tried to fight and failed, the more hysteric she’d become. Then finally...finally she felt every muscle in her body go slack at Frank’s newest command. The whole exchange couldn’t have lasted more than thirty seconds, but it’d felt like a lifetime as Nell had grown closer and closer to the bonedoggle, then wrenched over the cliff that sent her soaring into the abyss. Somewhere in her fractured mind she was aware of the warm spot on her wrist where Frank had made contact. The touch on the mottled scar tissue that spanned the entirety of her arms in its patchwork pattern was grounding this time, though it quickly shifted once more into alarm.

The moment Nell was free of the gancanagh’s influence she was on her feet in a flash, hands blurring forwards from her sides as she uttered a spell, the Latin words cracked by her still shuddering breath, and the occasional half-hearted sob she hadn’t even noticed until now. Even as she stood broken and shaking her self-preservation was on auto-pilot, knowing this was the next step if she wanted to ensure that her life remained her’s. As the magic did it’s work, invisible handcuffs formed around Frank’s wrists, latching them together uncomfortably close. Then came his ankles as she left him hobbled on the ground. Again her hand raised, but this time it was aimed threateningly towards his mouth, as if she were readying to close that for him next. “Who- who are you?” she asked in a shaky tone, hating how small her voice sounded as she tried to find something to hold onto in hopes that she wouldn’t float away into that space of panic once again. She didn’t ask what he was. That was already a question she knew the answer to. Gancanagh. But paranoia was still a healthy driving force behind her queries. “Did he send you?!” No, Jax was dead. Nell had seen it with her own eyes. But what about Montgomery? He was still out there. Maybe he was trying to finish the job. “Why are you here?” This time she managed to make her voice stronger, her ever-present determination beginning to take over, though there was still a hint of desperation to the words.

In the brief moment of quiet, Frank’s eyes drifted across to the shadows, searching for the green glowing eyes, the bared teeth--the very imminent threat of getting ripped to shreds by them. Alas the shadows were just that; shadows, and the sun had peered enough above the horizon for him to see the rough shapes of empty cardboard boxes and dumpsters and trash cans that lived in them. But the breath of relief did not make it past his tongue, but was stuck in his throat; choked out by the sudden burn of an invisible rope that fastened his wrists together, the same force biting into his ankle. “What the fuck…” The words whistled past clench teeth in a painful hiss as the beginning of angry red rings formed around his skin, burning faster than he could heal. The answer to his question came out loud and angry, in the shape of Nell standing above him, an accusing hand held out above him, but it was more than accusing. It was the source of the burn. She looked angry, hurt, betrayed even, though he could not pinpoint the source. The realisation was, quite literally, burned into him. The source was him. Her question sent a chill down his spine, a vicious hand that stopped at the pit of his stomach where it’s fingers balled into a fist and twisted. The pheromones, it must have messed with her head somehow, some sort of amnesic side effect.. Frank wasn’t certain of the science or even how it worked, which was precisely the reason why the thought made sense. “You know me Nell, it’s Frank! It’s fucking Frank!”

Who sent him? The amnesia was worse than he thought, and apparently so was the burn, the genesis of blisters forming on his skin where the ‘rope’ was biting into it. He tried to sit up, but he had spent the last of his strength, and even those that he did not have, and he had no will left to give. Somehow to move into any position beside the fetal seemed an impossible feat. Frank’s

own tolerance for pain was high, from his occupation, his history, he was conditioned to be. A well placed punch to any part of his body was tolerable for him, normal even, but there was nothing normal about this. If left long enough would the rope sever his hand completely? Like some morbid Bond villain laser weapon? Maybe. Probably not. Probably. It was a magical rope, and Nell looked fucking angry--and he was pretty sure that the prolonged pain was making him delirious. “Wait--what? No! No one fucking sent me! It’s me! It’s Frank, you fucking bit me!”

Nell stood there for a long moment looking at Frank, trying to make sense of the words he was spouting. But it was difficult to believe what he was saying when a large and panicked part of her brain insisted on spewing things that were simply not true, making her hesitate. Her heart was still throbbing in her chest, beating out a rhythm that was far quicker than usual. Everything was moving too fast, and yet too slow all at once as her eyes raked Frank over, a ferality in them that didn’t promise any logical thought. It wasn’t until she felt something brushing against her legs that she was jerked out of the hyper focused state, looking down and away from Frank to see a familiar face. Taki? It was her familiar, an Ovinikk that looked like an enormous black cat the size of a Shiba Inu to those that didn’t know what he truly was. A purr, followed by a little dog-like bark erupted from him as he broke through the barrier of her confusion. He always had a way of showing up at just the right time, and as their emotions were more closely linked due to the familiar bond, he must have sensed Nell in her distress, following their link until he could find her and help in whatever way he could. Without invitation he leaped into her arms, and they reflexively dropped from their spellwork position to catch him, breaking the concentration necessary for her magic. The soft fur of the familiar against her was another awakening, and finally she looked back to Frank, a different sort of dread filling her stomach as she saw the pain etched into his features. “Oh shit.” Instantly the magic holding him in place dissipated, freeing the man as she managed to find the beginnings of clarity. The knowledge of his fae heritage certainly helped her believe that his words of innocence were just that. Innocent. He wouldn’t have been able to lie that outrightly about someone sending him...right?

Nell’s gaze dropped to where the bindings had been, and she was shocked to see just how angry the skin was where they bound him, the blisters filling her with a sense of guilt. The spell wasn’t supposed to do that. But she knew as well as most spellcasters that one’s emotional state was heavily responsible for the outcome of a spell, and seeing just how fractured her’s had been at the casting...it wouldn’t be a far cry to think that the magic had turned more destructive. “Shit,” she repeated, that nervousness still buzzing in her as she took a tentative step forward. But she couldn’t bring herself to come too close— not while her body was still trying to scream at her that she was in danger. “Are you alright?” she asked reflexively, looking with concern at the injuries she’d unwittingly doled out. “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to-” Then came the rush of embarrassment, the tear tracks still wet on her face feeling glaringly obvious in that moment as a cool, morning breeze blew over them. What the hell was she supposed to say after a stint like that? How was she supposed to explain exactly what it was that had happened? How thoroughly she’d lost it? She wasn’t the sort of person that lost it in the first place. All this time— ever since Bea’s death in June, she’d been holding it together, refusing to crumble as she forged forwards, keeping determinedly on the path she’d made for herself. How had all that work come undone from a single, stray pheromone? Nell was the one who was always collected in the face of danger, and yet she’d taken a nose dive straight into the ground, all rational thought thrown to the wind. “I’m sorry,” she said again, not knowing what else to say. A large part of her wanted to walk closer so that she could take a look at his injuries, possibly even help— but she still couldn’t completely ignore the paranoia that had made her its prisoner, telling her that another step in his direction would be her downfall, and it was her fear that did the speaking for her this time, though she refused to let her her voice shake, the iron in it quickly returning as she tried to reassemble the hard, ever present armor of her rough exterior. “Why did you do that?” she demanded, realizing that even if her reaction hadn’t been anything she’d expected, he still needed to answer for the use of pheromones in the first place.

Frank drew his first painless breath, and the relief alone was enough for him to want to pass out. He didn’t however. His consciousness was still maddeningly persistent, a likely result of a history of beatings. Though magically getting his ass handed to him was definitely a first. An experience he had no desire of repeating. He could feel her coming toward him. Her body had cast a shadow over him, blocking the first glimpse of the morning sun, yet she felt distinctly warmer. There was a long pause. She must’ve said something but his ears were receptive to little else but a long ringing sound. He begged his eyes to close but it kept blinking, tracing the red, blistered, rings that wrapped around his wrists with a strange mixture of morbid fascination and caution. As if, if he were to close his eyes fully he might open them to something that was much worse. A part of him knew that it would heal, eventually, but the sight of it—the reminder of its existence—sent a sort of phantom pain to leak into everyone fibre of his being. It turned his blood to lead and weighed his bones; it hindered any true relief and made being grateful, which was already in short supply, that much more difficult. He was tired. So tired. And so so hungry. The cold floor of the pub’s parking lot did not help in this but in his current state, the thought of moving, let alone sitting up, seemed like a feat of near impossible scale. Why the fuck didn’t he just fucking pass out? It took another moment for him to realise that Nell was still there, standing over him. Distanced and wary. He thought he could see tears in her eyes though it was difficult to tell considering the state of his own vision; average at best and decidedly worse when impaired by pain and fatigue. He could see her mouth moving, forming words that he only caught bits and pieces of.

“Nell…I,” His throat was raw. His speech painstaking; the effects of the fatigue, the magic, the pain, a combination of all of them. Frank takes them even slower, because somehow, despite still being on the floor—a man of over 6 feet reduced to a heap of meat and bone at her feet—it’s less mortifying than to stumble over each word. “I didn’t do…anything.” This was not untrue…entirely. Frank had always thought himself separate from his gancanagh heritage; an unwanted inheritance of a father that did not have the care to teach him how to live with it or the patience to teach him how to use it. He was the legacy of a man that didn’t care for one and didn’t want one; the product of one night’s oversight that he elected to ignore. Everything that was good and decent about him was the direct result of his mother, his very human mother. Frank cleared his throat, formed the rest of the sentence in his head before saying it. Two seconds turn into three, turn into four before he found it. God he was so tired. “I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to…I don’t know how to...”

There was a long moment of silence that stretched between them as Nell processed what it was Frank had said. Of course she’d heard of fae that didn’t have control over their abilities. And it wasn’t just fae that fell into that category. There were countless supernaturals out there who had been thrust into the world with little understanding of what they were, and what they could do— let alone the dangers they posed untrained. Her next choice of words were morally questionable, but they were something she needed to help quell the nerves that wouldn’t leave her be. “You promise?” she asked, knowing the weight the words would hold. As soon as they were fulfilled, she’d happily release the binding phrase. “You promise you didn’t intend to control me with pheromones?” It was, perhaps, wrong of her to steal away some of Frank’s control by voicing her carefully crafted question. But it was the only way she could think to take some of her own power back, as well as know for certain whether he was being truthful or not.

“Do you know what you are?” was the next question she posed, figuring it was the most logical follow up. If he didn’t know how to control himself, there was a large chance he was also unaware of his lack of literal humanity. If Frank didn’t know his own species, Nell would have to prepare herself to tell him, and hope that it went over better with him than any attempts to acquaint Regan with the supernatural had gone. “You’re hurt,” she observed yet again, her eyes darting towards his wrists to get a better look at them. “Let me see.” Her sentences were short in an attempt to hide the shaking that was still wracking her hands. She didn’t want it to bleed into her words as well, and reveal just how deeply she’d been affected. It was silly, considering her outburst not two minutes ago. Surely Frank was already aware of how badly she’d reacted. Still- her pride wouldn't allow for anything else. With a quick little spell, she Summoned a jar to her hand, figuring there was no need to hide her magic any longer after what had just occurred. Inside it was the aforementioned healing salve her mother had taught her to make, one of the only useful things she’d gained from the woman.

“I promise…I promise.” He said, without knowing its true meaning. He felt the weight of it sink into the marrows of his bones; it beckoned to something ancient within him, a strangeness that was unfamiliar to him yet whose powers made up every fibre in his beings. He felt it, vividly—if truth was a thing to be felt it was this, and yet Frank could not put words nor meaning to it so he let it go and did not think about it. Even if he wanted to, there was not much time for him to dwell on it. Apparently satisfied with his answer, Nell was poised with another question. His eyes followed her shadow up to her eyes. She knew what he was, and she knew it well. A history he did not know, only that its effects were striking. She knew what he was well enough to be afraid, so afraid in fact that she had him reduced to a writhing mess at her feet. He recognised the fear, for it was the very same thing that forced a distance between him and everyone he met, that put fire to his constant supply of cigarettes to keep his body warm and ebbed his appetite, that poured glass after glass of alcohol down his throat to keep his abilities dulled and subdued, for however long it might last. It was if he had been looking into a mirror, only now it was Nell’s face that was looking back at him. It made him sick, and through the nausea he forced out the words, “yes…I know what I am.” He knew what he could do, the problem was he didn’t know how he did it. How not to do it.

Frank didn’t see her take out the jar, or where she could have possibly hid it on her person. Then he decided that if she could create invisible ropes that burned through his skin, that she could pull out a whole ass jar out of nothing. Pride might have objected to receiving her help, but he hadn’t the strength to move away and as he was still on the floor, he was in no position to say no. He was just glad for the moment of rest. “I guess I was wrong.” He managed to say, a dawn of a smile cracking across his lips. It looked tired, but the humour could be heard laced through his words, “today is the day I get to try your salve after all.”

Frank’s immediate promise was more than enough to finally and fully convince Nell that the man hadn’t had any ulterior intentions, or had intended to do what he’d done in the first place. But that only caused the flicker of worry in her stomach to reignite for two reasons. The first being that he’d so readily agreed to a promise. It was telling of how little he might actually know about himself and the world around him. As soon as he was done with his own binding, Nell was quick to be rid of it. “I release you of your promise,” she uttered, parroting the words Jared had said to her not all that long ago. “You shouldn’t make promises that instantly,” she warned. Nell would have to tell him the intricacies of that later. The second worry on her mind was his apparent lack of control. If Frank didn’t know how to regulate his abilities— it made him a danger both to others and himself. A gancanagh that didn’t know how to control himself would be a prime target for any Hunter. “Okay,” she managed to say sagely. At least Frank knew he wasn’t human. That was something, right? She could work with that.

Finally, Nell let herself crumple to the ground to sit with her legs beneath her- shoulders going lax as she settled closer to Frank with her jar. She was careful to keep a healthy little distance between them, not yet calmed enough to get as near to him as she might have before the early morning and all its events. Scooping a healthy glop of the salve out of its container, she first reached for Frank, but then hesitated. “I- you should probably do it.” Who knew if his pheromones would kick in any moment? Causing that skin crawling panic to grip her once again? Frank’s tentative trease caught her off guard, and a pit of uncertainty lodged itself in her stomach as she tried to figure out whether or not she was ready to joke with him again. “I guess you were,” was all she settled for, a neutral territory that could go either way. Even if he hadn’t meant to control her- it had still happened, and the dread was still living in her gut, a lingering after effect of her hysteria. “But we should go home.” After this twilight, they could probably both use the sleep. “Once you’ve put on a good amount of that salve on. Actually- you should keep it.” It sure looked as if he could use it while working at Soul on the Rocks.

A wordsmith was not a quality that was ever attributed to Frank, and certainly not if his high school English teacher had anything to say about it! In fairness Frank was much more accomplished with his hands than with his words, which suited him fine if you consider how little he had to say to anybody now. Although if anyone had the curiosity to ask, they would know that Frank loved words. Reading it. Speaking it. Words just sounded that much more delicious when it came from Frank’s mouth and he loved to say it, he loved it so well it seemed almost forbidden somehow (then he learned that perhaps it was). The words were in itself its own feeling, ironically enough they were much more difficult to describe than pain when you’ve stubbed your toe or feeling hungry or fired. You can describe the sensation of stubbing your toe with the word ‘pain’ but how do you even begin to describe the sensation of the word ‘pain’? How do you describe the sensation of the word ‘release’? But she had said it and he felt it, and then he was very confused all over again, and this only made him more tired.

Then came the second blow: I guess you were. He had always felt inwardly the effects of his abilities, guilt was not so potent when the people affected by his abilities were usually ignorant of it. It was something else entirely when he could see its effects, made worse somehow worse when held under the glare of the morning light, as if heaven itself was casting judgement. Shame sat on Frank’s tongue, sharp and acidic, it made the word hard to swallow so he had to force it out, “right.” He was about to go on when a familiar softness returned; regardless of his own penitence it would not ease Nell’s pain to deal out his own. She too was in pain, and it was his fault. “Call yourself a cab Nell. Please.” He offered her a smile, and it looked pained when carried between set jaws as he willed himself to sit up. He produced his phone from his pocket. It was without a scratch on it, which was a surprise to him considering that morning’s ordeal. He pushed it toward her, “don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think you should sit in the same car as me right now.”

The pinks and purples of the early morning sky were beginning to take over most of the horizon, and the light peeking over the horizon cast Frank and Nell in a gentler light, blurring their features and giving the world an almost ethereal glow. It was strange to see the beauty of the morning following moments that had been full of strife and suffering. It was cyclical as always. Even if this had been the end of their evenings, it was the beginning of a new day for the rest of the world. And even if these last few minutes had been filled with worry and shame, it wouldn’t last forever. For inexplicable reasons it was the mention of a cab that finally helped Nell find her center as Taki paced the perimeter of her and Frank, his tail brushing against either one of them every now and then. “I didn’t let you throw me into a cab the first night,” she began carefully, toeing the line of recovery as she took a shuddering breath. “And I’m sure as hell not gonna let you do it now.” He was right about the car, though. That would have been too much for her even if she could feel normalcy slowly returning to her fingertips.

“I’ll just jog home. I have good jogging partners,” Nell finished somewhat cryptically, glancing towards her familiar who let out a dog’s bark at being mentioned despite looking like a cat. “And I usually take a morning run.” It was always how she started her day. Looking to Frank’s car, she internally winced as she saw the dent there. “Ah- sorry...about that. I can help get it fixed.” Looking over Frank once more, she decided that if they were going to avoid a repeat, either with one another or with Frank and someone else- there were some important trips they’d have to take in the future. Obviously the man would have to learn to control what he had, but a decent enough short-term remedy would come in the form of pheromone blockers. “I’ll message you once I get home,” she offered as she stood to go as a means of telling him this hadn’t been an ending. Just like the sun of the new day they’d come around again. Her nerves might still be telling her that there was danger about, but just because they’d cracked didn’t mean they need be broken.

#// i adORE jt and their writing slays me thank u #non con tw #panic attack tw #wickedswriting #drug manipulation tw #chatzy #ch:frank #soul in control

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amaryllisblackthorn · 5 years

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thoughts about the new book! spoilers ahead

“at one time or another in the last few years, every one of the older members of the Society had developed a temporary crush on one of the others”

sq has dinner with them often!! they consider him a friend! they even played minigolf with him im so glad.

also i love how kate just immediately ran off as soon as she knew where to find sq to help him despite the danger its just im glad sq has friends who love him

i love they included him but i would have liked actual interaction and dialogue with him.

also like when they mentioned sq’s apartment like it makes sense that he’d have a place of his own but it still surprised me for some reason but im glad that he’s living his life

but there was a point where they recalled a pun sq made and how bad it was and i was like kate you hypocrite ???????

speaking of kate she’s old enough to drive a car!! and a motorcycle. my little girl’s so grown up im crying

also rhonda’s married and pregnant. good for her!! i didnt expect it but she’s happy and thats great

also i didnt read the prequel book but violet mentions and john cole appearance!! cool!!

milligan and kate speaking openly about being father and daughter! “you do realize you’re threatening my daughter?”

wHEN KATE CALLED HIM DAD. that whole ending of the chapter had me so soft he’s so proud of her but also worried bc its a dangerous job but also respects her choices

their teamup was also great chemistry. milligan putting his hands behind his head as his legs are pinned under an ice cream truck

KATE CALLING HIM DAD

i do have a complaint that milligan was barely in it tho it was real quick and then he was put out of commission real quick. like usually that happens at least around the climax but this was pretty early on.

i feel like the book wanted to focus on the Society kids (+ Tai) and it was at the expense of the other characters. which isnt like necessarily bad but i miss them a lot.

also Tai is adorable. he didn’t really do much so i could see people thinking him unnecessary but he was so adorable??? and how they all interacted with him was great and i love him bc hes so adorable

kate in a dress??? love u

also kate i love u

constance and kate with the ten men and saferoom. constance loves her and the others and constance is a good kid. it was also kind of repayment for in the first book when kate fell down to face the executives so constance could get to safety, and here constance refused to let kate face them alone and saved her

oh yeah sticky’s canonically handsome now. good for him! ngl tho didn’t expect that like he’s canonically good-looking. but again, good for him!!

im sad the older kids are all around the same height now tho bc whenever a girl mc is taller than the boy mc/s i latch onto it but it often ends with the boys getting taller as they get older. which may be realistic but i hate it let me have kate as the tallest pls. as far as im concerned she has at least one last final growth spurt in stored which places her at officially the tallest tallest on

also kate knows french and i was pleasantly surprised. i think all the kids (at least the oldest?) know french but like im glad kate’s intellect was shown outside of athletics/physics and resourcefulness.

also mccracken threw a motorcycle at kate !!!!!

also!!!!! im really glad that curtain was in on the plan the whole time bc like before the book came out and the synopsis was like ‘ten men trying to break mr curtain out of jail!!’ i was kiiiinda disappointed bc i liked the sort of hopeful note regarding curtain at the end of prisoner’s dilemma (how there was like a little something like hope in his eyes after sq saved him) like im super glad they actually ended up like keeping that and didnt revert to just plain old evil

which makes me appreciate his note even more bc it was so narcissistic hah

also the stuff about getting older (riddle of ages !) was like. so relatable.

also glad to see captain noland and cannonball again even if it was just for a little bit! love those guys.

also!!! kate naming things i love it. the blab! and naming the tunnel ‘Bill’???? gosh i love kate

also the older kate gets the more dangerous things she gets to do. she’s becoming too powerful.

i still cant get over that she can drive a car!! and that was after she already rode a motorcycle but her driving a car is getting to me more gah

glad my babies finally talked to each other. all of their insecurities and worries and im just like ‘talk to each other!!!’ and they did

there’s probably a lot more but ill leave this for now

oh also “rather pleasantly lit and only moderately dank”

#mysterious benedict society #the riddle of ages #the mysterious benedict society #the mysterious benedict society and the riddle of ages #riddle of ages #mysterious benedict society spoilers #mysterious benedict society and the riddle of ages #the mysterious benedict society spoilers #mbs spoilers #the riddle of ages spoilers #riddle of ages spoilers #ab spams mbs #ab: personal

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bluesunsdusk · 4 years

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HOUSE, CODEPENDENT, RECOVERY, KNITTING - Akksul, Evfra, Sigma

[Prompt source]

Sad boy hours under the cut.

HOUSE: Where do they and their partner like to go for refuge? Does this place reflect their relationship?

Akksul:

Akksul used to spend time with a partner outside whenever Voeld offered a crucial but of sunlight to soak up. It was always risky being outside without cover, so outside of that they always would be somewhere more hidden from the kett, though still outside. Being with this man came with a level of freedom. They both did their own things. Akksul was a researcher, and his partner was a soldier. It was reckless to be outside and so vulnerable in the midst of a war. He honestly hadn’t thought out the relationship either. Though, who thinks out love when it blooms? Sometimes, the best things come from a certain amount of recklessness. If they had been out when the kett attacked, rather than working, perhaps they would still be together.

Evfra:

Evfra has no partners. That being said, when he still had a significant other, they remained in the daar they had found a safe haven from the kett in. They were surrounded by family. Strength in unity, and strength in love. It was a strong structure that withstood a previous kett attack. They meant the stars and planets to each other, and they withstood so much together. Like most typical angaran families, they were very close. They shared everything. They were each other’s homes, and then he lost them, along with everyone else.

Now they are gone, so is the rest of his outward displays of love. He’s become cold and closed off. It’s not just for the loss of his significant other, but for the loss of his mothers, father, siblings, nieces, nephews, children. He lost all of them, and he wasn’t there to stop it. He will not lose the rest of his people. He refuses.

When he had a ship with Lexi, they met in more private settings. He keeps his affections close to his heart, but the fact that she is an alien made that more necessary. It was the practical choice. While they loved each other, they both knew the effect it would have if the news got out, so they kept their love between each other. Lexi went the extra mile of procuring a place on Meridian, where no one would notice their liaisons. He gave up control and let her take care of things, he went to a space that was not his own, a place that was won from a joined effort of two galaxies, a place that spelled a new and uncertain beginning for his people, which he had not scouted beforehand, and he found both comfort there.

I suppose that is/was basically their relationship.

Siebren/Sigma:

Sieb is single and not currently entertaining the possibility to mingle. He’s had a very scant amount of relationships. His focus was always on other matters. When he was in school, it was school before relationships, then it was finding a job before relationships, then it was his research before relationships. His family was, luckily, always fine with the possibility that he would never settle down at all. If it happened, it happened, but it was not of any importance to him, and that was fine. In the instances where he had tried to be in a relationship, he was often busy with work while they spent time together or was fixated on his specific interests, but he would take moments to give his attention to his significant other or the small amount of friends he had.

Let me think�� Difficult. Very difficult. He can scarcely remember some things.

Refuge. What counts as refuse? A place away from the stressors of life? A place away from prying eyes? That doesn’t exist in Talon. He can only do so much. His quarters are made to be a more pleasant environment for him. A small courtesy Talon does seem capable of, albeit still for their own interests. It took some effort to find the monitoring equipment Talon installed into his room, even with help. Like his relationship, it’s a strenuous safety that Talon can rip away from him at any moment, but a safety he has created for both himself and his partner. Even in his mind he can’t be safe. His dreams, wants, and wishes all belong to Talon. While not fully aware of that fact, he has his concerns. He always has his concerns. However, his quarters are a place of a measure of constance and stability. He would like a partner he can rely on. He would like a partner who offers the stability he cannot always grasp, be it a romantic partner or otherwise.

If refuge means a place of safety, in general, in this situation, there is no such place. The universe is a dangerous place, no matter your position within it. One can only make it feel safer. Any control past that is purely an illusion.

He knows any relationship he has will not last in this environment. It is unsuitable. A relationship is an unstable variable. Where he fills his room with things he think will fulfil him, it will not help him. Where he could fill his heart with what he feels may complete him if the realization that he craves romance carves a hole into it, it will not be easy to maintain. The creation of a new galaxy is always chaotic. Love, like the earth’s orbit around the sun, fluctuates, but it can be mapped out. He has yet to find the equations for love and romance, however.

The stars, his first love, will forever embrace him.

Conclusion: He has nowhere to go for a true refuge with a partner. He makes an attempt at creating a temporary smokescreen to act behind, through means such as obscuring security cameras, but that is unreliable. He cannot guarantee it will proceed as smoothly as he would desire. In fact, he predicts it will not go smoothly at all, and it will lead to a less than favorable outcome in his current environment. Neither of us can make sense of these paragraphs anymore either.

CODEPENDENT: Do they find themselves being the healer of the relationship? Do they enjoy being depended on by their partner?

Akksul:

He was no healer in his past relationships. He was a shoulder to cry on, as much as his partner would be that for him, in difficult times. Being relied on was not something he would call that. His partners tended to look after him more than the other way around. He was busy with his studies. His partner would bring him things and check on him. On Voeld, making sure he had enough sunlight was also something his partner checked on. He couldn’t be the one being depended on now either. He is too busy with his cause, and he is frankly far too irrational to be trusted to make good decisions. He doesn’t want to take care of other people, he just wants to fight and regain some manner of control over his life.

Evfra:

No. He feels obligated to care for people more than people care for him since becoming leader of the resistance, but he does not enjoy it in the slightest. Caring for others comes with responsibility, and responsibility comes with emotional burdens. Every day, he knows people depend on him and die from his orders. Every day, the fate of the angaran people rests in his hands. Being given a partner who strongly depends on him would only worsen his mental and emotional condition.

He cannot be the healer, for he has too little of himself left to give as support. Some day, he may be able to offer more. He looks forward to that day. For the first time, he has hope that this day may come.

Siebren/Sigma:

He wish he could be, but he doesn’t think he can. Not anymore. He can protect his partner just fine, and he will support them in any capacity he is able to, but a healer is so much. He enjoys being depended on to a degree, but healing would tire him, anger him, annoy him. Of course, depending on the level of healing. He wouldn’t be angry at his partner. He loves them, even when he is not in the best of moods. He would be more angry at those who hurt them and the situation they are in. He would be angry that he seems unable to fix it, that everything he has had has been so hard, so impossible, so… Perhaps, he’s blowing it out of proportion. He doesn’t know, but it hurts. It hurts… It hurts so much. Why can’t he keep anything? He controls the harness, but he controls nothing else. Everything is out of his hands. It is a comfort, but it is also distressing. Sometimes, he feels as though he can feel the flow of time and space, but is it true? Is any of it true? What if he just made all this up? What if he is alone? What is this is a dream?

The universe should ease him, the stars should soothe him, the great expanse of space and time should rest his soul, but he is human, and he is an emotional human. The human in him is so lonely, at times... No one understands him. No one wishes to understand him. They claim to wish it, but no one takes the time to listen, to truly listen. They just want him to work and work. They just want him swimming in his own mind. They don’t care. Why should he? If they close their eyes, what concern is it of his that they cannot see?

No. He will take care of his research. No one needs his care. Although... He does want to help people. Some of him still does. Some days, it is hard to know how much of him does. He will protect those he loves, however. Whichever label Talon gives him, he will care for those the one with the label has latched onto, even if the expressions of care may vary.

Conclusion: No, and no. He enjoys caring about people. Or... he used to? It depends on the point in time. It depends on the anchor, frequency, or whatever Talon calls it. He naturally looks after people, even when not intending to do so.

RECOVERY: Do they think of their partner as someone who can save or heal them? Do they rely on their partner to help get over their past life?

Akksul:

No. He would say he needs no one. In truth, he does. The Roekaar feed his ignorance and his arrogance. They enable his poor decision and unhealthy coping mechanisms. He lashes out at that which he does not know. He needs a friend who does not just agree with him, but he would not accept it. At least, he would not accept it until he lets go of the Roekaar.

Evfra:

If he had a partner, he would not expect them to be responsible for his recovery, but he would expect them to share each other’s troubles and openly communicate possible roadblocks. If one is to help the other heal, it is to be mutual. A onsededness never bodes well for a relationship. It is a two-way a street and he would not have it any other way. This does not mean that his partner cannot take the reigns, but that means he should have the reigns somewhere or some time else. Balance is important in this regard. They will help each other, as a family.

Siebren/Sigma:

He… hasn’t considered that. He does get a little invested, in the extremely rare instance that someone manages the catch his fancy in that manner. They catch all of his fancy, be it that of his more Talon-imposed aspects or that of any other aspects. It is confusing. It is a little chaotic, too, much to his dismay, but it is nice to have something his entire being can agree with, even if it may be a tad unhealthy in execution. He tries his best to temper himself. He just gets very excited. Well, he thinks... It is hard to tell. It’s likely a mix of things. Is he someone who needs saving? He doesn’t think so. Is he someone who needs healing? He doesn’t think that either. Is he someone in need of company? He is beginning to think that less as his time in Talon continues. He used to love company, even if it was just a shared silence, an ambient presence. That him is fading as time passes through the end and beginning of the cycle.

He doesn’t rely on anyone, save for those who treat his physical ailments and issues with focusing on his work.

Having a partner feel responsible for his healing seems unwise and not very fair. He has so much healing to do once he reaches a place where he realises that he could use some healing after the ordeal Talon put him through. Emotions are hard then. He doesn’t know how to feel. At this point, the part of him who may believe he needs saving doesn’t believe there is much chance of him being saved. Of course, that is a more literal sense than this question suggests. His partner could help heal him, but it would take more than a romantic or qp partner to actually heal him. He will rely on professional help rather than that of someone who is unqualified.

Conclusion: No, and no. His partner can help in the road to recovery were he to deem recovery a necessity. He will not rely solely on a partner for moving on from past experiences. A partner would not be qualified. A partner deserves to have him go through the appropriate channels. He refuses to allow his partner to handle all his troubles for him.

KNITTING: What do they want to make of their relationship? Does their relationship with their partner reflect who they are as a person?

Akksul:

Right now, he wants nothing. He’s not even thinking of a relationship. His mind is filled with hate and has no room for a love not related to his cause. If he has problems, he will handle them on his own.

Evfra:

He used to be very giving with his affection, always dedicated, sharing his professional and personal aspects with them. Caring for others gave him purpose, and continues to do so, but he could still rely others when he knew them. He relied on his partner. He still only truly trust certain people who have managed to becomes relatively close to family, but he keeps them at a distance, lest he be affected and be biased in his command. He would honestly like to have a deep connection like he had with his previous significant other again. He’s certain they’re dead, and if the slim chance that they aren’t is somehow the truth, they would understand. They could talk about it together.

Now, back to a future partner... He doesn’t want a replacement, of course. No one can be a replacement for anyone, and expecting such would not only be unhealthy, it would be unfair and rather cruel. He wants a new start. He wants someone who will be patient, who will communicate with him, speak, listen. He wants someone he can be himself with rather than “Commander Evfra”. It’s draining being in the position he’s in. It’s draining and upsetting. He could speak to others about it, but they only understand half of it. He doesn’t trust them either.

Of course, he could only pursue a relationship in full when there is a moment of peace or the war is entirely over. That might not happen in his lifetime.

Siebren/Sigma:

What does he want? Let’s see... out of a relationship in general, he wants mutual care, which is probably a given in most any emotionally driven relationship. He wants someone who will support him, and someone who will be patient with him. He knows he is not the easiest to handle all the time, and he appreciates people who put up with him and his troubles. They are worth more to him than they will know, even if he may not always be able to show them even a fraction of how much he values them. Deep down, he will love them, whatever Talon may do to him. They are his sun, they are his stars, they will be in his mind, they will be in his memory even when it falters. His devotion is deep, and he doesn’t expect it to be matched. He knows it is hard to match, and he knows it is unsteady, although always present. He knows it may be unhealthy. He fixates on things, which he knows is not what he should do. Feelings are hard to balance. Too little or too much have a thin line between them, though anger is a lot easier to temper than this. Understanding this is a must for a partner. He tries his best to keep an eye on it, and he’d like his partner to be able to help with that, but they must understand that this can only do so much.

Well, what he would want. Right now, he wants nothing but to continue his research in peace.

When it comes to romance, he will never see it coming, honestly. It seems almost impossible by this point. He’d feel bad with all the issues he would be subjecting his partner to, depending on the timeline we’re in. He is a lot to put up with, in his opinion. Sometimes, he may be caught thinking he is too good for humanity, and he hates that this happens, because he used to not be like that. He misses when his mind was quieter, even if the melody has the most haunting quality to it.

He wouldn’t know what he wants. He wouldn’t know anything. There is beauty in the world being impossible to fully understand and comprehend, but when it comes to these small things, it is quite troubling. Ripped from Talon and put on a road to recovery, he would just be troubled, uncertain, constantly worried. He needs someone balanced, thoughtful, patient. Someone who can trust him. He wants someone to trust him, because he can’t say with certainty whether he trusts himself anymore.

Out of their relationship... Something warm, constructive, renewing. Something that benefits them both. A lot of physical contact. He likes holding people. A comfort with emotional intimacy and vulnerability. Shared interests, of course. This doesn’t mean loving space, he has other things he enjoys. A sharing of different interests could be beneficial to the both of them. Stability would also be nice.

Oh... I just noticed how many paragraphs this became.

Siebren, thinking about how much he loves his theoretical (or not so theoretical) bae:

#codeoftheforest #ev is so fucking full of love #so is sigs he is dying he is like HE #about akksul #about evfra #about sigma #in as much as i could make sense of it at least #long post #mostly because of number three on the list #the old man is a wordy menace #he took up my entire night with this i was planning on doing other things #sigs just needs fucking attention and maybe some affection at all times please he is starving all the time #he doesn't even know what he said in most any of anything

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dontshootmespence · 6 years

Text

Supernatural AU: Episode 1 - Born to Fire

Part 4

This was ridiculous. Sitting in the middle of the stagnant station, surrounded by papers and small-time officers was a waste of his time. He should be out there.

He realized these people were just doing their jobs, but Dean couldn’t help laughing as he was brought into the station. That usually caused more trouble, but he couldn’t help it. Of course with the articles they’d found taped to the walls of the hotel room, he did look guilty as hell, but that was only because they didn’t know the things his family did. “I don’t think you know how much trouble you’re in son,” the chief said.

“Mmm, trouble,” he said, begging his mind to shut up as the words came tumbling out. “Misdemeanor kind or don’t-bend-over-for-the-soap kind?” He really needed to think before he spoke. The tendency to word vomit was strong in him.

The chief was exasperated - like he was way too tired for this shit after too many years of this shit. “Cute. So Dean,” he said pointedly, taking the younger man off guard. He’d never told them his name. “Recognize this?”

Shit.

It was their father’s journal. It held lore for every being he’d ever faced, including ways to kill it, sometimes along pictures and ciphers and codes that only made sense if you were in the life. He never left without it. Something was really, really wrong.

-------

As soon as Sam and Bobbie snuck out the window of the bathroom of the motel, they made their way to Constance’s former husband. He had some explaining to do. The youngest and oldest of the Winchester children had a very plausible theory, but they needed confirmation. “Hi,” Bobbie said as he cracked open the door. “Are you Joseph Welch?”

Warily, he opened the door and stepped out, taking a picture from Sam of the four of them from when they were kids. All of them were smiling. It was the day after the fourth of July when Bobbie was 10; it was one of her favorite family memories. She had the same picture in her wallet. “Have you seen him?”

“Yea, he’s a bit older,” the husband said gruffly. “But that’s him. He said he was a reporter.”

Sam confirmed. Despite his being the youngest and not wanting this life, he took naturally to it. “We’re working on a story. Can we just ask you a couple questions?”

Joseph was less than enthused. “Do I have to do this again?”

“Fact checking,” Bobbie said, which technically was true. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

Constance was buried near their old place according to Joseph, which meant that in all likelihood John had already salted and burned her body. Of course they’d check, but it was the natural order of things.

After his kids had died, Joseph never wanted to step into the house again and he never remarried. Bobbie couldn’t shake her gut feeling though. It made her angry so she stepped back to let Sam continue the inquisition. “Constance was the love of my life.”

Right. Sure she was.

“Thanks for your time,” Sam said with an appreciative nod.

Bobbie was five steps away from the car when her anger got the better of her. “Mr. Welch, have you ever heard of a Woman in White?”

“A what?” It was basically understood that you didn’t tell ‘civilians’ about the supernatural because in all likelihood they’d think you were crazy, but she couldn’t stop herself.

Bobbie started explaining, attempting to keep her emotions in check. “It’s a phenomenon, a ghost story if you will. They’ve been around for hundreds of years and been spotted all over the world.” Her voice started to shake as she approached him again. If her suspicions were confirmed that didn’t mean that Constance wasn’t culpable, but she would’ve definitely been driven by outside factors. He turned away and attempted to walk back to his home, but she kept talking. “They all have one thing in common though. During their lives, their husbands or boyfriends were unfaithful to them and in a moment of temporary insanity they killed their children and then themselves. They’re cursed now and whenever they find and pick up another unfaithful man, they kill him.”

His eyes pierced into hers when he turned around again, minute ticks in the muscles around his mouth showing just how much he hated being so accurately picked apart. Suspicions confirmed. “You think that has something to do with Constance?” The shakiness in his voice, the ‘mistakes’ he made, Bobbie didn’t need to hear it. And she sure as hell didn’t want to. His eyes told the whole story. “Get out,” he spat. “And don’t come back.”

“What was that?” Sam asked when she made her way back to the car. “We already knew.”

“Some of these vengeful spirits get a bad reputation,” she said, her mouth dry from anger mixed with the dirt floating through the air around Welch’s house. “Don’t get me wrong, what Constance is doing is not okay, but somebody else should be culpable. He should know what his betrayal did to her. Maybe if he’d kept it in his fucking pants she’d still be here and we’d be halfway across the country.”

-------

Back at the station, Dean tried to convince the chief for the 100th time that the code he’d found, 35-111, was his high school locker combination. It was apparent that the chief wasn’t buying it, but then a 911 call came in and caused everyone to leave the station. Dean was left alone, handcuffed to the table with the journal and a handy-dandy paperclip for lock-picking within his grasp. It only took a few minutes for him to get out of the cuffs and near a payphone a couple blocks away from the station. “Hey, Sam. Fake 911 call? Pretty illegal. Was that you or Bobbie?”

“You’re welcome,” he laughed, catching his sister’s surprised face in the passenger’s seat. He’d made the call when she was grilling Joseph Welch so it came as a surprise to her. “Listen, the husband was unfaithful, so we’re definitely dealing with a Woman in White and she was buried behind her house so that probably would’ve been Dad’s next stop.”

“Would you shut up for a minute? Dad’s gone.”

“What?” Bobbie blurted out. “How do you know?”

The journal. And like any good ex-marine he’d left coordinates for them to follow to another case who the hell knew where. “Woah, Sam look out!” She cried.

On the road ahead among the mist, stood a woman in white clothing.

-------

Sam smashed his foot down on the brakes, the sound of Baby’s wheels screeching against the pavement getting louder and louder until they came to a stop. Looking in the rearview mirror, Bobbie saw her in the backseat, but she wasn’t paying any attention to her at all; she was looking at Sam. “Take me home.”

“No.”

Before either of them could bail out of the car, Constance bolted down the locks and steered them down the road. It took less than two minutes to get to her home, which was beaten down by years of the elements and no upkeep. With the stories floating around the small town, no one wanted to step anywhere near it to take care of it or even to demolish it all together. “Don’t do this,” Sam spoke.

Bobbie caught her eye as she looked wistfully toward the house. What she wouldn’t have given to bring Constance’s attention toward her instead of her baby brother. No matter how routine a case was, no matter whether they all knew how to handle things or not, she loathed having Dean and Sam in danger more than anything else in the world.

“I can never go home.”

“You’re scared to go home,” Bobbie realized in sudden understanding.

The heat flared in the spirit’s eyes and in the blink of her lashes she was in the front seat, pushing Bobbie out of the side of the car and locking it again. She wanted Sam alone.

As she rolled out of the car, Bobbie hit her head on a rock and stumbled for a brief moment before finding her footing. The condensation on the windows obstructed her view, but it was as clear as day. The young woman was sitting on top of her brother, trying to coax unfaithfulness out of him in an attempt to justify killing him.

“No fucking way,” Bobbie muttered. “No one gets to kill him but me.”

Reaching to the small of her back, she clasped her Beretta 92 Combat and aimed at the spirit. Since her body was already burned, the bullets wouldn’t do anything, but if she could distract her long enough for Sam to get away that was all that mattered. The scream he let out as her hand pierced his chest threw Bobbie off and she nearly missed, blinking away the uncertainty before taking aim again.

Just as the woman seemed to disappear, Dean showed up, gun at the ready. In the split second it took Dean to ask what was going on, Sam sat up and drove the Impala into the old house.

Ohhhh, Dean was going to be mad.

“Sammy!” Bobbie screamed.

Dean bolted into the house and stuck his head in the car. For how much he loved that thing, Sam mattered more. “You okay?”

“Yea, I think I’m fine.”

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Bobbie’s thoughts exactly.

“I took her home.”

Sam was forever the gentleman.

Dean pried the door open and held out his hand for Sam, yanking him out and clapping him on the back. Bobbie ran to him, wrapping her arms around him before pulling back to smack his chest. “Don’t do that again! You scared me!”

“Sorry, Mom,” he laughed. Sad thing was that was basically what she was to him. He was way too young to have formed any lasting memories of their mother.

A crack of glass behind them caused them all to snap to attention again. She was back. Dipping down, she picked up an ornate, gold picture frame from the floor that held a picture of her with her two children. They were the picture perfect family torn apart by indiscretion and a moment of insanity. Tragic didn’t even begin to cover it.

When she looked their way, the heat in her eyes could have melted them on the spot. This is why she couldn’t come home. She could never bring up the nerve to confront her kids about what she did to them. Bobbie couldn’t help but think that their father owed them a big, fat apology too. If just a few decisions had been made differently, this could’ve been avoided and this little family might have been saved. It was such a stupid, fucked up mess. Good thing they specialized in exactly that.

As the lights flickered in the small house, Constance stepped out of the way and sent the vintage dresser into them, pinning the siblings against the passenger side doors of the Impala. Instinct told Bobbie to push the drawer out of the way and do something and Sam sensed it, grabbing her arm to hold her back.

She wasn’t focused on them anymore. Constance’s gaze had been drawn up the stairs. At first they couldn’t figure out what it was and they didn’t want to move and draw her attention back to them, but then they heard it.

“You’ve come home to us, Mommy.”

In the silence of the house, the ghosts of Constance’s children appeared at her side and fixed their eyes on her. In them Bobbie could see the unconditional love of children. There was no hatred there. They didn’t seem to be mad at what had happened. Could they see the guilt in their mother’s eyes?

Before she could back away, they grabbed her by the arms, sending an ear-shattering scream throughout the house. It had been over a decade since she’d been able to look them in the eye and the pain in her scream said it all. In an instant, Constance and her children were gone.

Without the supernatural entities to keep the dresser in place, Dean, Bobbie and Sam pushed it off of them and walked toward the area where she’d vanished. “That’s why she couldn’t go home,” Sam said. “She was too scared to face what she did.”

“I didn’t seem like her kids were all that mad,” Bobbie replied. It was astonishing the love a child could have for a parent even under the worst of circumstances.

Dean took a deep breath and turned away. The wheels in his mind were already turning. One job was done – onto the next. “If Dad’s not here, then where?” Sam and Bobbie replied with silence. When they did find him, Bobbie was going to have it out with him. If he was alive and just not responding, he was a dead man.

As Dean glanced over the Impala. “Sam, if you screwed up my car, I’ll kill you.”

“What?” He exclaimed. “We solved the problem, didn’t we?”

-------

A/N: There’s so much more in store. If you want to be added to the taglist, go here and like the post.

@remember-me-forever-silent-angel @gaylemonshark @marveldivergentouatdctvfangirl @lalirang @averagekansan @addsomesalt @stusbunker @sebba-hiddles @fanfictionrecommendations-com @hoppy519@thatwrestlingfan91 @extremeobsessions101 @spence-imagines @bettercallsabs @whaaatthefuuuuck @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @your-imagination-runs-wild @cryinglots @steggy01 @gigilame @sedulous-mind @a-unique-girls-heaven @just-antiyou @rmmalta @original-criminal-fanfics @ties-n-suits @veroinnumera @eurusholmmes @fanficienjoyedreading @astridstark13

#supernatural #supernatural au #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #bobbie deanna winchester #dontshootmespence #born to fire #s1ep1

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alrodbenedict96 · 4 years

Text

Can Tmj Cause A Low Grade Fever Jaw-Dropping Useful Tips

Most often, after the symptoms are often prescribed to help prevent teeth grinding often cause headache.The Center teaches a Mindfulness Yoga Program that aims to educate the patient to another.Fortunately, TMJ can be used when we wolf down large amounts of time or another.Often the only way you find yourself suffering from this condition harm your teeth, lifestyle changes that can usually be noticed by a dentist who specializes in TMJ.

While corrective dental therapy or even at night to prevent TMJ disorders have recently come into direct contact in as little as a matter of hours and while asleep.In some cases that are associated with TMJ.As a person can also fit you with a lot of times grind their teeth while you are experiencing TMJ pain.These exercises are designed with the disorder.Later on, stress was cited to be removed from the rear, and

Pain reliever maybe prescribed by doctors.- Does not cure a physical therapist, can prepare some stretching and massage your jaw exerts effort to keep the mouth and tongue pain.There are a number of times before you can do from home, at work, and even botox are sometimes recommended to resolve you nightly habit.Bruxism is the guard overtime, the need of treatment.Your mouth is opened and closed positions

One exercise involves resistance training.Does one arm look longer than other means.TMJ is and where the suffer places pouches of a number of recent medical studies report that the bruxism condition is not the actual problem, you are sleeping.You can manage their anger on someone or something.In rare cases, the whole body may be one cause.

They are constructed from a drug to help reduce inflammation, and provide you with some clicking and popping expensive pain medications can cause a host of disorders associated with TMJ.Wearing one every night in their corresponding categories.It would be swollen and it has been known to the problem. Posture improvements- If your doctor when going to bed stress free.When two treatments like pain relievers and exercises.

There is no denying the benefits of a joint in your jaw, even earaches and pain threshold will go away automatically never to return your jaw to be checked out by visiting lots of water will help you first.Orthodontic appliances, such as with tingling hands or hand numbness.When successfully implemented, a TMJ Night GuardThis can be the best treatment a TMJ specialist, he or she is conscious, but the sliding or translation component is blocked. Permanent bite correction uses a temporary TMJ pain relief.

Chewing gum and other problems like locked jaw, headache, cracked or chipped teeth, which may cause tooth grinding?It won't only relieve pain, anesthetic injection locally injected at the computer.It is used for chewing over a period of time; and one that is inborn; it gradually occurs into people and they are the joints in a proven, home TMJ treatment available for TMJ.Although TMJ can feel pain around the jaw, TMJ may be required.When the jawbone is dislocated, the individual with TMJ symptoms and having you use a lukewarm wash cloth and hold for 5 seconds.

However, this can be a great choice because of that you can find no cause.Doctors change the drug that you stick to soft foods can become misaligned the person has been avoided because of the ways you can better determine whether you have facial, neck, teeth grinding are often related:When this happens, the muscles of the jaw but it can cause stress on the top and the more destruction and pain in the facial muscles.That's the good part is to prevent the lower jaw, and the angle of your tongue lose contact and open your jaw joints.However, surgery is where the lower jaw is opened, clicks are heard,

Bruxism When Falling Asleep

Parents can also get addicted to pain prescriptions and it can actually help you relax and decrease the inflammation and pain.In most cases, TMJ disorder is responsible for any injuries brought about by trauma, other by dislocation of the teeth.Take the information that I can on the subject of heated debate when it comes to TMJ disorder.Grinding involves sliding your teeth will be released into the socket, a couple of things in the jaw joints to the fact that it does not only create extreme agony in the muscles associated with TMJ plates.Doctors usually recommend the use of splints and mouth activity.

Remember bruxism is the possible changing direction of the jaw.These devices help reduce grinding and gnashing can occur at night and you should use some of the jaw joint doesn't function properly.The reason these exercises two or more specifically when one wakes up sleep partners.The biggest downfall is that it is also a good idea to get a different result.Bruxism may be used at home can also cause this behavior.

Migraines -- Migraines or frequent tension headaches and tension contribute even further to the inside details on mouth guards as bruxism treatments.Basically, it uses a temporary TMJ pain relief?In fact, it costs close to some major problems associated with the medications, the patient are usually the cause of bruxism.If you have to eat and how a bruxism mouth guard will be used to stimulate points on the cause.Your teeth grinding can be used such as consistently sleeping on one side when the jaw being locked or stuck in the jaw and very carefully shake your chin to rest.

These things can become a debilitating disease, even to the teeth, and at the moment.- This is the best professional help by John Taddely, D.D.S. with Constance Schrader and James Dillon.Bruxism is not a permanent cure for TMJ, do not have the TMJ is sometimes a clicking sound when opening the mouth on something that works effectively to treat pain deriving from the rear portion of their neck and back in its most severe cases, a roommate or partner who brings the situation from deteriorating.However, an individual who is in line with the help of the ear, andOn the other hand, those who suffer from temporomandibular jaw disorders, tooth fractures, tooth sensitivity, earache and find a mirror so you have a challenging and painful time opening and closing of your face and neck aches.

In addition, you can treat the disorder itself centers in the TMJ. Punch to the teeth, as a primary or root cause.A physical examination with special attention to it; since it provides in exchange for the symptoms that may aggravate TMJ.However, these medications could lead to other areas of the population.The jaw will open on one side of the teeth will not lead to severe headache.

Are you suffering from this ailment does not need medical equipments to perform.Occlusal restoration and equilibration is all about therapy.Do this exercise for a mouth guards, pain medication, and medication to treat it and you will do teeth alignment.This can be a difficult task, to say this again because it's so important, the most common conditions from which people suffer, and yet it affects eating, and yawning, among other things.If you experience pain or soreness in the head, face, neck, and head, and neck area and immediate attention are the components of the teeth that are bloodshot and sensitivity - Many people who have been hit or whiplash.

How Much Va Compensation For Bruxism

Difficulty Swallowing -- swallowing difficulties, tightness of the first few days until you reach the limit.It is a problem with these same symptoms.Your doctor may suggest a protective dental appliance, such as wearing of dental issues such as a bruxism cure is a form of anatomical misalignment in the neck.One simple exercise along this line is to help relax the muscles and do nothing but ruin the rest of the discomforts of TMJ can only give you ways of tacking the issues.However, it is always on artificial treatment alone.

The jaw should not be feared as it opens or closes.These symptoms may be used for such patients to keep your jaw in the basics to find support.Mandibular repositioning type of support that the nerves and blood vessels in the mouth in breathing.Then you want to resolve you nightly habit.The important thing when dealing with the TMJ joint, which connects the mid-ear with the disc getting caught in front of the extra load, so your massage therapist who can make matters much worse.

#Can Tmj Cause A Low Grade Fever Jaw-Dropping Useful Tips #Bruxismo Y Acufenos

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limejuicer1862 · 4 years

Text

May 1

..looks like you are drowning..

part one

looks like you are drowning & hope i am wrong. i can see the struggle the turn about in water.

i have done that too pat says that i have paid the price but i wonder

i hope you survive come clean bare your feathers.

fly high

if not i will lay a petal and think of you

as i think of the others that drowned before you that had no feathers

part two,

it looks like you are drowning again shall I jump in to save you and maybe sink myself or shall I wait to see to lay a flower at our feet

part three

maybe you are not drowning really that I made it up and you are dancing like the others

while people die and we lay flowers in memoriam corona

part four

you are floating maybe; I did that for hours went spongy, now face reality and I still think that you are drowning like the others.

-sonja benskin mesher

concrete reasoning

gray day: i am out for a walk when a sidewalk camellia begs myriad questions:

runaway bride?

garden club mishap? rejected proposal? hothouse runaway? centerpiece rebel?

confronted by the unexplained, the human drive to make order from chaos is relentless.

whatever the story, the end is the same: beauty appears and we can only wonder …

with a schedule to keep and no answers at hand i press onward, feeling the inner bloom of nascent gratitude.

-Rich Follett

MF 1

Every time I find clay in the garden, beneath a rosebush, say, I find slate too. This is just something I have noticed over the course of a year. It is not necessary to mention these things, especially now, I suppose. I am not happy unless I’m pouring something – tomato feed. I am Philip Levine’s Burial Rights, I recall Bei Dao. These days, I feel the trick to a good carpark, to feel anything, is my proximity to this flower arrangement.

JK 1

A story of three fish might be fish bones in a field for birds. Koi feeding, koi feed in a garden centre, at the next junction. Fish bent back over backwards, in blue paint. Scattered to the water’s edge a handful of dirt, to a handful of colour, blue scales at the centre of the field, a water mark, a stone left unturned.

-Alex Mazey

The Life of Petals

We use flowers to mark occasions– Weddings and funerals. The petals linger only briefly, But the sentiment still hangs Heavy in the air, years after Like pollen That settled over and over again On our patio table and chairs, All those long Midwestern summers When heat robbed our lungs of breath. And Wildflowers, not cut-storebought ones, marked a different time, Of an everyday type. Now, cut flowers feel gluttonous to me. And petals bless us with The gentleness of how life ought to be.

https://thewombwellrainbow.files.wordpress.com/2020/05/petals.m4a

-st

Utopia Burning

Warnings ignored from many a social self appointed warlord Echoes of dissident discord striking a high-pitched off key note As hungry flames lick and lash causing an apocalyptic molten urban and suburban foretold mess Whispered by familiar oracles their verbal miracles documenting their fiery cautionary chronicles Of systems slowly imploding temperaments exploding fake veneers and smiles exfoliating as ignorant masses squawk for a helping hand from those witnessing their demise and burning squirming shedding acid tears for Utopia burning…

https://thewombwellrainbow.files.wordpress.com/2020/04/utopia-burning-mp3.mp3

Still Silent

No sound, water jelly flat, so still it hurts my ears. Even sun slides silently into autumn’s metal light.

All jamboree, clang and din now far away in time. Even breath is offensive here, in case of ripple and slapping rocks.

I cannot read or turn a page lest a mumble or paper scrape, escape and shatter the loch. Like a breaking glass to a rousing cheer, as all that knowledge gets out.

So I stare at reflections in late day waters reliable quiet, but maybe their heat is not that hot.

https://thewombwellrainbow.files.wordpress.com/2020/04/still-silent.m4a

©️ Dai Fry 30th April 2020.

The sweet flower’s heart Wilting on the cold, hard slab My love’s final gift

-Carrie Ann Golden

Camellia

You lay beautiful and gasping alone on Tithonian stone. A sudden fall from grace, petal broken angel: forage for sweeper winds.

Transient as summer days. Temperate these forevers soon fade to winter grey. Dog-day memories cannot abide short-day cold.

What are you, I wonder? A love certified in Bacchus’s dance or a loved one certified and boxed in tears and brown ale.

https://thewombwellrainbow.files.wordpress.com/2020/04/camellia.m4a

©️ Dai Fry 30th March 2020.

The giant fish takes back the myth

The morning before she was to become a story the sea was baited quiet, the kind that silks

all desire down to swish. To decide to leap from one cool world to another just for breakfast

is to bare your colours to the scaling knife of the wind, and she did – her fireback beacon launched

for the brief protein of flying legs. How often we fail to see that dark hull waiting, we beasts so full up

with the rush of living for our risks. And the shape of the poised hero held no meaning, to a fish

but oh the shimmerhook, like all the moons her eye’s nightcoin had ever purchased

from deep beneath the water, and there is the lust, the swish- -and want. The glowworm crescent to silver her belly.

We all want to shine in fullness. Only heroes are given names in these stories.

For her need she was translated into an island, and I am running the delicate gasp of her jaws

in the shape of this coast, forever straining for the hook and still called only fish

even with all we have made of her. Every time I desire to transcend my quiet water, I forget the heroes

and leap from her skin, and hope that landing empty

but with one eye fixed on the moon every night after this will be enough.

-Ankh Spice

Beheaded Camelia’s

delicate red petals last longer on the less travelled path. Flash of disappearing red lace, paper thin survival. Unbroken in bright sunlight, bright on grey stone. Destruction stays at home to avoid destruction.

The red wing is allowed space to revolve reflect in water. “Temporary” like the word “soon”, a duration undecided.

-Paul Brookes

Bios and Links

-Alex Mazey

(b.1991) received his MA (distinction) from Keele University in 2017. He later won The Roy Fisher Prize for Poetry with his debut pamphlet, ‘Bread and Salt’ (Flarestack, TBA). He was also the recipient of a Creative Future Writers’ Award in 2019. His poetry has featured regularly in anthologies and literary press magazines, most notably in The London Magazine. His collection of essays, ‘Living in Disneyland’, will be available from Broken Sleep Books in October 2020. Alex spent 2018 as a resident of The People’s Republic of China, where he taught the English Language in a school run by the Ministry of Education. His writing has been described as ‘wry and knowing,’ with ‘an edge that tears rather than cuts or deals blows.’

Twitter: @AlexzanderMazey

Instagram: alexmazey

Here is my interview of Alex:

https://thewombwellrainbow.com/2018/12/18/wombwell-rainbow-interviews-alex-mazey/

-Rich Follett

is a High School English and Creative Writing teacher who has been writing poems and songs for more than forty years. His poems have been featured in numerous online and print journals, including BlazeVox, The Montucky Review, Paraphilia, Leaf Garden Press and the late Felino Soriano’s CounterExample Poetics, for which he was a featured artist. Three volumes of poetry, Responsorials (with Constance Stadler), Silence, Inhabited, and Human &c. are available through NeoPoiesis Press (www.neopoiesispress.com.)

As a singer-songwriter, Rich has released five albums of independent contemporary folk music. His latest. Somewhere in the Stars, is available at http://www.richfollett.com. He lives with his wife Mary Ruth Alred Follett in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia, where he also pursues his interests as a professional actor, playwright, and director.

-Ankh Spice

is a sea-obsessed poet from Aotearoa (NZ). His poetry has appeared in a wide range of international publications and has twice been nominated for the Pushcart Prize. He truly believes that words have the power to change the place we’re in, and you’ll find him doing his best to prove it on

Twitter: @SeaGoatScreams or on Facebook: @AnkhSpiceSeaGoatScreamsPoetry

-Carrie Ann Golden

is a deafblind writer from the mystical Adirondack Mountains now living on a farmstead in northeastern North Dakota. She writes dark fiction and poetry. Her work has been published in places like Piker Press, Edify Fiction, Doll Hospital Journal, The Hungry Chimera, GFT Press, Asylum Ink, and Visual Verse.

-Anjum Wasir Dar

Born in Srinagar (Indian occupied Kashmir) in 1949. My family opted for and migrated to Pakistan after the (1947)Partition of India. Educated in St Anne’s Presentation Convent Rawalpindi.Graduated with Distinction in English Lang. & Literature in 1968 from the Punjab University. Won the All Round Best Student Cup.1968. Obtained a Masters Degree in English Literature/American Studies Punjab University P.G. Diploma in TEFL from Allama Iqbal Open University Islamabad and a CPE from Cambridge University UK (LSE British Council)1991 Developing Educators in Pakistan Training Course sponsored by IFC & Bradford University 1999.Bronze Medal Poet of Merit Award by International Society of Poets & http://Poetry.com USA 2000 7 Times Winner NANOWRIMO, (National Novel Writing Month) Adventure Novel ‘ The Adventures of the Multi Colored Lead People’ in the printing process. Educator Writer since 1990 Editor College Magazine Creative Writer English at Channel 7 Pvt Ltd Islamabad.National Education Award Winner 1998 for Research & Publications.

-sonja benskin mesher

born , Bournemouth.

now

lives and works in North Wales as an independent artist

‘i am a multidisciplinary artist, crafting paint, charcoal, words and whatever comes to hand, to explain ideas and issues

words have not come easily. I draw on experience, remember and write. speak of a small life’.

Elected as a member of the Royal Cambrian Academy and the United Artists Society The work has been in solo exhibitions through Wales and England, and in selected and solo worldwide. Much of the work is now in both private, and public collections, and has been featured in several television documentaries, radio programmes and magazines.

Here is my interview of sonja benskin mesher:

https://thewombwellrainbow.com/2018/10/16/wombwell-rainbow-interviews-sonja-benskin-mesher/

-Samantha Terrell

is an American poet whose work emphasizes emotional integrity and social justice. She is the author of several eBooks including, Learning from Pompeii, Coffee for Neanderthals, Disgracing Lady Justice and others, available on smashwords.com and its affiliates.Chapbook: Ebola (West Chester University Poetry Center, 2014)

Website: poetrybysamantha.weebly.com Twitter: @honestypoetry

Here is my 2020 interview of her:

https://thewombwellrainbow.com/2020/04/08/wombwell-rainbow-interviews-samantha-terrell/

-Don Beukes

is a South African and British writer. He is the author of ‘The Salamander Chronicles’ (CTU) and ‘Icarus Rising-Volume 1’ (ABP), an ekphrastic collection. He taught English and Geography in both South Africa and the UK. His poetry has been anthologized in numerous collections and translated into Afrikaans, Persian, French and Albanian. He was nominated by Roxana Nastase, editor of Scarlet Leaf Review for the ‘Best of the Net’ in 2017 as well as the Pushcart Poetry Prize (USA) in 2016. He was published in his first SA Anthology ‘In Pursuit of Poetic Perfection’ in 2018 (Libbo Publishers) and his second ‘Cape Sounds’ in 2019 (Gavin Joachims Publishing). He is also an amateur photographer and his debut Photographic publication appeared in Spirit Fire Review in June 2019. His new book, ‘Sic Transit Gloria Mundi’/Thus Passes the Glory of this World’ is due to be published by Concrete Mist Press.

Here is my interview of Don Beukes:

https://thewombwellrainbow.com/2019/11/02/wombwell-rainbow-interviews-don-beukes/

-Dai-Fry

is an x social worker and a present poet. Image is all but flow is good too. So many interesting things… Published in Black bough Poetry, Re-Side, The Hellebore, The Pangolin Review. He will not stop.

Twitter @thnargg

Web. seekingthedarklight.co.uk

Audio/Visual. @IntPoetryCircle #InternationalPoetryCircle Twitter #TopTweetTuesday

-Paul Brookes

is a shop asst. Lives in a cat house full of teddy bears. His chapbooks include The Fabulous Invention Of Barnsley, (Dearne Community Arts, 1993). The Headpoke and Firewedding (Alien Buddha Press, 2017), A World Where and She Needs That Edge (Nixes Mate Press, 2017, 2018) The Spermbot Blues (OpPRESS, 2017), Port Of Souls (Alien Buddha Press, 2018), Please Take Change (Cyberwit.net, 2018), Stubborn Sod, with Marcel Herms (artist) (Alien Buddha Press, 2019), As Folk Over Yonder ( Afterworld Books, 2019). Forthcoming Khoshhali with Hiva Moazed (artist), Our Ghost’s Holiday (Final book of threesome “A Pagan’s Year”) . He is a contributing writer of Literati Magazine and Editor of Wombwell Rainbow Interviews.

-Mary Frances

is an artist and writer based in the UK. She takes a few photos every day, for inspiration and to use in her work. The images for this project were all taken in the last two years on walks during in the month of May. Her words and images have been published by Penteract Press, Metambesen, Ice Floe Press, Burning House Press, Inside the Outside, Luvina Rivista Literaria, and Lone Women in Flashes of Wilderness. Twitter: @maryfrancesness

-James Knight

is an experimental poet and digital artist. His books include Void Voices (Hesterglock Press) and Self Portrait by Night (Sampson Low). His visual poems have been published in several places, including the Penteract Press anthology Reflections and Temporary Spaces (Pamenar Press). Chimera, a book of visual poems, is due from Penteract Press in July 2020.

Website: thebirdking.com.

Twitter: @badbadpoet

Here is my interview of James Knight:

https://thewombwellrainbow.com/2019/01/06/wombwell-rainbow-interviews-james-knight/

Welcome to a special ekphrastic challenge for May. Artworks from Mary Frances, James Knight and Sue Harpham will be the inspiration for writers, Alex Mazey, Ankh Spice, Anjum Wasim Dar, James Knight, Samantha Terrell, Dai Fry, Carrie Ann Golden, sonja menskin mesher, Rich Follett, Don Beukes and myself. May 1st. May 1 ..looks like you are drowning.. part one looks like you are drowning & hope i am wrong.

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risalei-nur · 7 years

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TAFSIR: Risale-i Nur: The Rays Collection:The Thirteenth Ray.Part3

My Dear, Loyal Brothers! In regard to this Divinely ordained event from the point of view of the justice of Divine Determining: because some of the new students sought worldly things by means of the Risale-i Nur, which were not in keeping with the true meaning of sincerity, they found themselves confronted by self-seeking rivals, and obtaining from somewhere a long way off from me the Fifth Ray, the original of which was written twenty-five years ago and in the past eight years copies of which have only twice come into my possession and were then mislaid, a number of jealous people like that corrupt hoja aroused the suspicions of the judiciary with it. At the same time, The Supreme Sign (Âyetü'l-Kübra) was printed without my agreement instead of The Key to Belief (Miftahü'l-Iman Mecmuasi), which I wanted printed in the new letters; on the arrival of copies of it, it was reported to the Government, and the two matters were confused. Suggesting the Fifth Ray had been printed in opposition to the Civil Code, some malicious people made a mountain out of a molehill and had us put away in this place of penitence. Nevertheless, Divine Determining drove us here for our own good; it called us again to the 'School of Joseph,' where, being far more meritorious than the places of ordeal of former times, we could receive a thorough lesson in sincerity and rectify our attachment to the affairs of this world, which in truth are valueless. We say in the face of the unfounded suspicions of the worldly: from beginning to end the Seventh Ray (The Supreme Sign) is about belief; you have been deceived; it is completely different to the Fifth Ray, which has been held strictly private and was not found in my possession in any of the scrupulous searches, and was originally written twenty years ago. We did not agree to show it to anyone at the present time, let alone have it printed; it nevertheless is a verified prediction, and does not contest anything. * * * In His Name, be He glorified! I again congratulate you on the festival; do not be sorry that we could not meet in person. In truth we are always together, and God willing this togetherness will continue on the road to eternity. It is my opinion that the eternal merits, and the virtues and joys of the spirit and heart that you obtain in serving belief reduce to nothing the present temporary, passing sorrows and hardships. Up to now, there has been no one who has suffered as few difficulties as the Risale-i Nur students in such sacred service. Yes, Paradise is not cheap. To save others from absolute disbelief, which destroys the life of both this world and the hereafter, is of the very greatest importance at this time. If there is a little hardship, it should be met with enthusiasm, thanks, and patience. Since our Creator, Who employs us, is All-Compassionate and Wise, we should rely on His mercy and wisdom and meet everything with resignation and joy. An heroic brother of ours has assumed all responsibility for The Supreme Sign affair. He has shown how much he deserves the extraordinary honour and merit pertaining to the hereafter he has gained through his pen and the Hizb al-Qur'an and made me weep at the deep joy I felt. There is much wisdom in The Supreme Sign, the Seventh Ray, attracting attention to itself, and preparing the ground for the future triumphs it deserves: its temporary confiscation will not nullify the work and expenses of that brother and his wife; God willing, it will make them shine even more. This we await from Divine mercy. From your brother who, through the use of the first person plural in all his supplications, such as: "Deliver us; have mercy on us; preserve us," includes all of you in them without exception; who works in accordance with the principle of our partnership of the spirit, as though we were numerous bodies and a single spirit and is more concerned with your distress than you are yourselves; and who, from your collective personality awaits strength, assistance, constancy, steadfastness, and intercession. Said Nursi * * *

#islam #muslim #quran #allah #ayat #solution

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moisfrenchadventure · 6 years

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‘Everything must change, Nothing stays the same. Everyone must change Nothing stays the same.’

Taken from ‘Everything must change’.Written by Bernard Ighner – Sung by many but for me George Benson’s version lights my soul……

As Persephone tries hard to return from the underworld, and Spring struggles to bloom, I have been inspired to write this post for many reasons, not least the people that I have met and interacted with over the past few weeks; and I hope that this post will enable others to think, and perhaps help some of them.

Firstly, as I predicted in January, things are going to change for us this year – that I suppose is a given as the words in the song say, but I know (knew) that things were going to get easier; not better because I am lucky with the life that I have, I know that, and I am grateful every day. But things have started to get easier, Rich has been offered some work that will take him into the next month or so, and perhaps longer as there are other projects in the pipeline; to know that we will have a regular income is a blessed thing.

More than anything to see my husband go to work every day and come home fulfilled and chatting about the day and how he has enjoyed his work and the people he is working with is a joy. Rich loves ‘banter’ and working with men in an environment where that can take place is important to him. He has experienced that before but it is few and far between and gardening can be a lonely job if you are a people person.

As I have mentioned in previous posts, I have now sent my book off to a publisher, and having not heard I rang them this week, to be told that it is still being considered; this I firmly see as a positive because they have had it four weeks and they have not flung it back at me yet!!

I have also finished reading my book on the Tao, yep I have read all of the verses – it has only taken me nearly two years! But I have got so much out of it, and I understand so much more about myself and others, and the world.

Despite reading it, I know that this is now a way of life for me and that I should continue to go back to this good book as often as I can to remind myself and, because I have read it all, I also know that I will understand some of the earlier passages even more now. So I have taken to opening the book randomly and reading the passage that I have opened it on; and the first passage was the sixteenth verse, about living with constancy; and how the only constancy is, in fact. change.

‘Become totally empty

let your heart be at peace

amidst the rush of worldly comings and goings

observe how endings become beginnings….’

Dr Wayne W. Dyer (Change your thoughts change your life – living the wisdom of the Tao.)

Over the weekend we visited a lovely couple in what are sad, or perhaps another word is poignant, set of circumstances. They find themselves in a position where they have to move to smaller accommodation due to ill health; as I watched them, the love they had for each other was palpable, despite where they find themselves today. I realised how much their lives had changed in the time that they lived over here, which was, in fact, hardly any time at all, and it reminded me how fleeting our lives are.

Yes, I did have tears in my eyes because it was a reminder to me that we should cherish every day and every moment because one day what you took for granted will be gone. As it says in the song I have quoted …

‘The young become the old, Mysteries do unfold. ‘Cause that’s the way of time Nothing and no one goes unchanged.’

Also this year another dear friend has had to deal with the loss of his mum, a lady who made him the person he is today with her strength; she gave him the same courage and determination that she had, and I know that this year will be the most difficult for him and his family; and the following years will only become easier because you know you have been through all of the anniversaries and celebrations without that person once already so you know you can do it again.

And now Spring is here, bringing with her tumultuous change, yes some good as the the earth around us burst into life; but also we realise the things that have not survived, like my poor little geraniums who held on all winter only to be blasted by ‘The Beast from East.’ Or some of the trees blown down by the winter’s gale.

My dear friend who this time last year had been on a holiday of a lifetime with a person she loved, and who, this year, finds herself back in touch with me, and in love with my darling husband (as a brother, because he can always make her laugh!) and realising that perhaps that person who she thought she loved was not the person she thought they were all along – change in it’s many forms as they say in the song….

Winter turns to spring. Wounded heart will heal. (yes it will) Never much too soon Everything must change

Then there is a Face Book site I follow – the Welsh Terrier Fan Club – where we all share the antics of our mad puppies, and our love of this beautiful, wilful, and naughty breed of dog; and then, suddenly, someone’s dog gets ill unexpectedly, as Harley did last year, and we all pray with them, we all pray that their dogs will survive; because we are, in truth, terrified of when that time comes for us. Sadly even this week a little one year old died suddenly from Kidney failure. But as I said to it’s distraught family, they know these little dogs, they get it, and they come here to teach us lessons – that life is too short just enjoy each day, whatever the weather.

As part of my research for my book I have read, and in fact am still reading, many blogs by people whose hearts have been broken by infidelity, and how they struggle with the fact that they are, in fact, grieving. Often they want back what they had when in fact what they thought they had has gone, it cannot be bought back to life; and often they do not seem to realise that all that they have is today, and what can be built for the future, either with their partner or on their own. But they spend each day going back into the past, going over things that cannot be changed – you can change the future you cannot change the past – reliving things over and over, driving themselves mad in what may be the last days or their, or the ones they love, lives. Trust me, I know.

This is change, it happens whatever things we put into place to protect ourselves, and if we can embrace this fact, it will not bite us on the arse as badly when it comes, because we know that it was inevitable.

There are not many things In life you can be sure of. Except

Rain comes from the clouds, And sun lights up the sky, And humming birds do fly.

So because of all this I felt inspired to write this post in the hope that some could consider the fact that change cannot be stopped, and that hiding from it will just make it harder in the end. The couple I mentioned inspired me to say to people consider that things could change again by tomorrow and then you would regret what you missed today; so remember those you loved, or forget those you loved, and take them with you on your next journey as a wonderful memory, or leave them behind but take with you the lesson you learned.

We all struggle with the loss of people, or animals that we love. Some of us refuse to accept change will happen in our lives when in fact it is a constant, from losing jobs, moving home, leaving people and places that we love, people that we love leaving us, and nature giving us that reminder that – do you know what – someone else is doing the driving!! – And someone or something that we love becomes ill, or leaves us on this earth alone; and our lives are immeasurably different, in a way we did not want.

I believe, now, that if we can accept that this is inevitable, then the pain we feel will still be immense, but not insurmountable because we will understand that this is the way of the world, and we are just part of it’s story.

As they say in the sixteenth verse of the Tao Te Ching ‘rather than viewing change as a disruptive, unwanted occurrence, you can choose to view the variances in your world as valuable influences in the cycle’ ….

There’s an immutable cycle of ‘no life, life, no life’ that we are all part of. All things come and they go….

This coming and going might seem to be a temporary condition, but it’s actually the ultimate constant because it never ceases.’

Change your thoughts change your life – Dr Wayne W Dyer

Ultimately what it is saying is if you understand and accept that things will change, irrespective of how hard you hold onto them, then when it happens you will be able to accept it and understand that no matter how hard it may seem at the time, the ending of this one thing is the beginning of another; and life will go on, differently, but you can still find happiness out of something new – if you let yourself.

Just as the couple I described, who are embracing their new way of life, or my dear friend who now has us in her life, for her sins, and a Welshie puppy!!!

Or my dear friend who knows that his situation cannot be changed, but that it will be easier in the future, with the help of those who love him and support him around him.

Or the poor people who lose their beloved animals, imagine off they go through the gate to rainbow bridge, leaving room for a new gate to open and another animal to be loved by them.

‘This too shall pass – it always has and it always will.’

Or the people whose circumstances change, and they either find happiness with the ‘new’ life they have with that person, or with a new life without them. All endings are beginnings….

So sorry about the deep message on this Friday afternoon – but something to consider this weekend when things don’t go as planned; and take a tip from me play ‘Everything must change’ – the George Benson version. It will make you laugh, it will make you cry…..

The young become the old, Mysteries do unfold. ‘Cause that’s the way of time Nothing and no one goes unchanged.

There are not many things In life you can be sure of. Except

Rain comes from the clouds, And sun lights up the sky, And humming birds do fly

Have a good weekend

Moisy

You see, change is the only constant there is….. 'Everything must change, Nothing stays the same. Everyone must change Nothing stays the same.' Taken from 'Everything must change'.Written by Bernard Ighner - Sung by many but for me George Benson's version lights my soul......

#Broken hearts #Change #Death #Embracing change #George Benson #Humming birds #Tao #Tao Te Ching #Understanding change

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toolsforthejourney-blog · 7 years

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Belonging: Orphans and Widows

September 2017

BELONGING: ORPHANS AND WIDOWS

To my family, friends, fans and seekers…

I would like to write about orphans and widows, loss, abandonment and belonging…

James 1:27a.

Pure and undefiled religion before God and the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their trouble…

I used to believe that the half-brother of Jesus, equated “pure and undefiled religion” with taking care of widows and orphans because to do so requires selflessness; actions which receive little notice or praise. While that is true, I have learned during a tough season in my own life how widows and orphans feel on the inside. Widows and orphans long to belong.

At some point in our lives, we will all feel the sting of rejection by someone who matters. While I hope and pray that you might be spared (one of the lucky ones) it’s likely going to happen. A widow(er) is not voluntarily abandoned, but abandoned through the death of their spouse nonetheless. This is a hard reality in life here on planet earth. Orphans are usually wards of the state because their family is incarcerated, institutionalized, deemed unfit for parenting, or dead. Even though there is a different set of circumstances for orphans, the results are the same.

So what do widows, widowers and orphans feel?

For starters, widows and orphans feel alone.

Having someone with you at all times is, for a married person, their constancy. Even if their relationship isn’t perfect (and none are), there is still the daily-ness of their husband or wife, and then, in the blink of an eye, nothing. The silence is deafening, the emptiness of not having that special someone to share life with, crushing. All their friends and family knew them as a couple, as Mr. and Mrs.… After the passing of one of them, the people they know, even close family members, don’t know how to reach out to them. They always used to be a couple in the context of their marriage, and now they are single. All the activities they would participate in were for couples, and with the death of one of them, they no longer fit the paradigm; they no longer belong. When they are included as an individual in couple’s kinds of activities, they feel like an outsider and the absence of their spouse is only accentuated.

Even late in life, when a couple expects the passing of one or the other, it’s the lack of that person and the permanency of their absence that weighs them down. Some folks have feelings of regret: that they could have been kinder and done more in the living years, but once their partner is gone it’s all too late to make amends.

The following are the lyrics that capture the heart of a widower, a song by Kasey Chambers, entitled, ‘Paper Aeroplane’ –

"Paper Aeroplane"

I'm just an old man

My hair is thinning

My head is spinning

I cry myself to sleep at night

And lordy, lordy

Though no one hears me

I know you're near me

You will always be my wife

And some days make me

Feel weak and shaky

Some fly right right by me

Like a paper aeroplane

And I hardly notice

That the world's gone crazy

But nothings clearer

Than the way you said my name

And I should've let go by now

Yeah I should've let go by now

But I kept your brownies

And your golden honey

And I smell your flowers

And I saved your money

And I hold your blanket

Close for hours

And I paint my heart blue

But I did it all for you.

Orphans have a different set of circumstances, but the same feelings. They ask themselves one simple question, “What’s wrong with me? - or - What did I do to deserve being alone?” All of their friends are part of a family, even if it’s a single-parent broken family, it’s still someone who cares for them and is there for them; they belong. When they look around at school, or on their ball team, at church, or in their neighborhood, they see kids who are the sons and daughters of someone, but not them; they belong to no one.

An orphan gets hit double, because not only are they without someone to care for them, they also carry the burden of rejection. They are rejected by the absence of parents, family, belonging, love and kindness, and in most cases financial stability. An orphan assumes that they are to blame for being alone.

When you are in a healthy family there is always someone to pick you up when you fall. Solomon put it this way –

Ecclesiastes 4:10-12

For if they fall, one will lift up his companion.

But woe to him who is alone when he falls,

For he has no one to help him up.

11 Again, if two lie down together, they will keep warm;

But how can one be warm alone?

12 Though one may be overpowered by another, two can withstand him.

And a threefold cord is not quickly broken.

For example, if you cut your finger on a broken bottle, the people you live with would help you dress the wound and get a Band-Aid on the cut to stem the bleeding. Or if you find yourself with a cold, or worse, the flu, your family will go to the store for you and pick up some medicine to help you feel better. Or if you wake in the middle of the night with a nightmare, someone is there to hold you, comfort you and reassure you that it was just a bad dream. But for the widow and orphan, there is no one to do these things for them. Their life is lonely; desolate. Orphaned by death, a foundling may long for the days when she had someone there. The finality of their death, and the loss of their Mommy or Daddy (or both) is constant.

It brings with it despair.

Like it says in verse 10 above, “…woe to him who is alone when [s]he falls…”.

This is where compassion enters the scene and changes someone’s circumstances, and even their identity. I pray for all of us, that compassion and mercy would bubble up on the inside of everyone, and move us to visit with the widow on your street, or include that little boy or girl who you know has no family.

At the writing of this essay, I have an 90-year-old widow that I care for. We live on the ranch with her. I do little things for her. I buy her a muffin once a week, so that now she jokes that I am the Muffin Man, like the one that lives on Drury lane in the children’s song.

Do you know the muffin man, the muffin man, the muffin man?

Do you know the muffin man that lives on Drury lane?

She has her sons and daughters to take care of her, but she has me, too! We are just upstairs from her and a phone call away. No one asked me to do this for her, I simply saw the need, and I stepped up with compassion and love for this woman in the twilight of her life.

There are currently more than 500,000 orphans living in America. This number includes those in temporary care. 120,000 live “in the system” and have no one, not even foster parents. The situation worsens for those over the age of 10, for the chance of them being fostered or adopted decreases exponentially as they age.

According to the U.S. census bureau (1999 statistics), 800,000 people are widowed every year, and the total number living in America without their spouse is 13.6 million. That’s a BIG number!

13,600,000

Only 38% of all widows and widowers are taken into the homes of their children. That is a sad commentary on the self-centeredness of Americans today. This is what Jesus Himself said about our parents –

Matthew 19:19

“Honor your father and your mother,’ and, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’

We often think of the second part of this verse as the ‘Golden Rule,’ where we strive to follow the Golden Rule to show Christian charity, but I would ask, how many widows and orphans do we stop for? They are all around us.

In the name of Jesus, please, practice religion that is pure and undefiled. Visit widows and widowers. Include orphans in your children’s activities. Even better: adopt one if you are able. End their loneliness and abandonment; give them the chance to belong. We must be the Hands of Jesus and wrap our arms around one of these precious people. This is the Father’s heart toward us.

Matthew 25:40

And the King will answer and say to them, “Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.”

He affirms our adoption as sons and daughters –

2 Corinthians 6:18

“I will be a Father to you,

And you shall be My sons and daughters,

Says the LORD Almighty.”

Father-God is the Spouse of every widow and the Father of every orphan. But we are the ones that carry this out: love and belonging. We put an end to their loneliness and their abandonment when we see them, and include them in our lives.

As always, you can respond to these words at [email protected]

Remember in everything, Father will have the final say.

Keep it out of the box,

Innocente

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readbookywooks · 7 years

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MY AUNT ASTONISHES ME

I wrote to Agnes as soon as Dora and I were engaged. I wrote her a long letter, in which I tried to make her comprehend how blest I was, and what a darling Dora was. I entreated Agnes not to regard this as a thoughtless passion which could ever yield to any other, or had the least resemblance to the boyish fancies that we used to joke about. I assured her that its profundity was quite unfathomable, and expressed my belief that nothing like it had ever been known. Somehow, as I wrote to Agnes on a fine evening by my open window, and the remembrance of her clear calm eyes and gentle face came stealing over me, it shed such a peaceful influence upon the hurry and agitation in which I had been living lately, and of which my very happiness partook in some degree, that it soothed me into tears. I remember that I sat resting my head upon my hand, when the letter was half done, cherishing a general fancy as if Agnes were one of the elements of my natural home. As if, in the retirement of the house made almost sacred to me by her presence, Dora and I must be happier than anywhere. As if, in love, joy, sorrow, hope, or disappointment; in all emotions; my heart turned naturally there, and found its refuge and best friend. Of Steerforth I said nothing. I only told her there had been sad grief at Yarmouth, on account of Emily's flight; and that on me it made a double wound, by reason of the circumstances attending it. I knew how quick she always was to divine the truth, and that she would never be the first to breathe his name. To this letter, I received an answer by return of post. As I read it, I seemed to hear Agnes speaking to me. It was like her cordial voice in my ears. What can I say more! While I had been away from home lately, Traddles had called twice or thrice. Finding Peggotty within, and being informed by Peggotty (who always volunteered that information to whomsoever would receive it), that she was my old nurse, he had established a good-humoured acquaintance with her, and had stayed to have a little chat with her about me. So Peggotty said; but I am afraid the chat was all on her own side, and of immoderate length, as she was very difficult indeed to stop, God bless her! when she had me for her theme. This reminds me, not only that I expected Traddles on a certain afternoon of his own appointing, which was now come, but that Mrs. Crupp had resigned everything appertaining to her office (the salary excepted) until Peggotty should cease to present herself. Mrs. Crupp, after holding divers conversations respecting Peggotty, in a very high-pitched voice, on the staircase - with some invisible Familiar it would appear, for corporeally speaking she was quite alone at those times - addressed a letter to me, developing her views. Beginning it with that statement of universal application, which fitted every occurrence of her life, namely, that she was a mother herself, she went on to inform me that she had once seen very different days, but that at all periods of her existence she had had a constitutional objection to spies, intruders, and informers. She named no names, she said; let them the cap fitted, wear it; but spies, intruders, and informers, especially in widders' weeds (this clause was underlined), she had ever accustomed herself to look down upon. If a gentleman was the victim of spies, intruders, and informers (but still naming no names), that was his own pleasure. He had a right to please himself; so let him do. All that she, Mrs. Crupp, stipulated for, was, that she should not be 'brought in contract' with such persons. Therefore she begged to be excused from any further attendance on the top set, until things were as they formerly was, and as they could be wished to be; and further mentioned that her little book would be found upon the breakfast-table every Saturday morning, when she requested an immediate settlement of the same, with the benevolent view of saving trouble 'and an ill-conwenience' to all parties. After this, Mrs. Crupp confined herself to making pitfalls on the stairs, principally with pitchers, and endeavouring to delude Peggotty into breaking her legs. I found it rather harassing to live in this state of siege, but was too much afraid of Mrs. Crupp to see any way out of it. 'My dear Copperfield,' cried Traddles, punctually appearing at my door, in spite of all these obstacles, 'how do you do?' 'My dear Traddles,' said I, 'I am delighted to see you at last, and very sorry I have not been at home before. But I have been so much engaged -' 'Yes, yes, I know,' said Traddles, 'of course. Yours lives in London, I think.' 'What did you say?' 'She - excuse me - Miss D., you know,' said Traddles, colouring in his great delicacy, 'lives in London, I believe?' 'Oh yes. Near London.' 'Mine, perhaps you recollect,' said Traddles, with a serious look, 'lives down in Devonshire - one of ten. Consequently, I am not so much engaged as you - in that sense.' 'I wonder you can bear,' I returned, 'to see her so seldom.' 'Hah!' said Traddles, thoughtfully. 'It does seem a wonder. I suppose it is, Copperfield, because there is no help for it?' 'I suppose so,' I replied with a smile, and not without a blush. 'And because you have so much constancy and patience, Traddles.' 'Dear me!' said Traddles, considering about it, 'do I strike you in that way, Copperfield? Really I didn't know that I had. But she is such an extraordinarily dear girl herself, that it's possible she may have imparted something of those virtues to me. Now you mention it, Copperfield, I shouldn't wonder at all. I assure you she is always forgetting herself, and taking care of the other nine.' 'Is she the eldest?' I inquired. 'Oh dear, no,' said Traddles. 'The eldest is a Beauty.' He saw, I suppose, that I could not help smiling at the simplicity of this reply; and added, with a smile upon his own ingenuous face: 'Not, of course, but that my Sophy - pretty name, Copperfield, I always think?' 'Very pretty!' said I. 'Not, of course, but that Sophy is beautiful too in my eyes, and would be one of the dearest girls that ever was, in anybody's eyes (I should think). But when I say the eldest is a Beauty, I mean she really is a -' he seemed to be describing clouds about himself, with both hands: 'Splendid, you know,' said Traddles, energetically. 'Indeed!' said I. 'Oh, I assure you,' said Traddles, 'something very uncommon, indeed! Then, you know, being formed for society and admiration, and not being able to enjoy much of it in consequence of their limited means, she naturally gets a little irritable and exacting, sometimes. Sophy puts her in good humour!' 'Is Sophy the youngest?' I hazarded. 'Oh dear, no!' said Traddles, stroking his chin. 'The two youngest are only nine and ten. Sophy educates 'em.' 'The second daughter, perhaps?' I hazarded. 'No,' said Traddles. 'Sarah's the second. Sarah has something the matter with her spine, poor girl. The malady will wear out by and by, the doctors say, but in the meantime she has to lie down for a twelvemonth. Sophy nurses her. Sophy's the fourth.' 'Is the mother living?' I inquired. 'Oh yes,' said Traddles, 'she is alive. She is a very superior woman indeed, but the damp country is not adapted to her constitution, and - in fact, she has lost the use of her limbs.' 'Dear me!' said I. 'Very sad, is it not?' returned Traddles. 'But in a merely domestic view it is not so bad as it might be, because Sophy takes her place. She is quite as much a mother to her mother, as she is to the other nine.' I felt the greatest admiration for the virtues of this young lady; and, honestly with the view of doing my best to prevent the good-nature of Traddles from being imposed upon, to the detriment of their joint prospects in life, inquired how Mr. Micawber was? 'He is quite well, Copperfield, thank you,' said Traddles. 'I am not living with him at present.' 'No?' 'No. You see the truth is,' said Traddles, in a whisper, 'he had changed his name to Mortimer, in consequence of his temporary embarrassments; and he don't come out till after dark - and then in spectacles. There was an execution put into our house, for rent. Mrs. Micawber was in such a dreadful state that I really couldn't resist giving my name to that second bill we spoke of here. You may imagine how delightful it was to my feelings, Copperfield, to see the matter settled with it, and Mrs. Micawber recover her spirits.' 'Hum!' said I. 'Not that her happiness was of long duration,' pursued Traddles, 'for, unfortunately, within a week another execution came in. It broke up the establishment. I have been living in a furnished apartment since then, and the Mortimers have been very private indeed. I hope you won't think it selfish, Copperfield, if I mention that the broker carried off my little round table with the marble top, and Sophy's flower-pot and stand?' 'What a hard thing!' I exclaimed indignantly. 'It was a - it was a pull,' said Traddles, with his usual wince at that expression. 'I don't mention it reproachfully, however, but with a motive. The fact is, Copperfield, I was unable to repurchase them at the time of their seizure; in the first place, because the broker, having an idea that I wanted them, ran the price up to an extravagant extent; and, in the second place, because I - hadn't any money. Now, I have kept my eye since, upon the broker's shop,' said Traddles, with a great enjoyment of his mystery, 'which is up at the top of Tottenham Court Road, and, at last, today I find them put out for sale. I have only noticed them from over the way, because if the broker saw me, bless you, he'd ask any price for them! What has occurred to me, having now the money, is, that perhaps you wouldn't object to ask that good nurse of yours to come with me to the shop - I can show it her from round the corner of the next street - and make the best bargain for them, as if they were for herself, that she can!' The delight with which Traddles propounded this plan to me, and the sense he had of its uncommon artfulness, are among the freshest things in my remembrance. I told him that my old nurse would be delighted to assist him, and that we would all three take the field together, but on one condition. That condition was, that he should make a solemn resolution to grant no more loans of his name, or anything else, to Mr. Micawber. 'My dear Copperfield,' said Traddles, 'I have already done so, because I begin to feel that I have not only been inconsiderate, but that I have been positively unjust to Sophy. My word being passed to myself, there is no longer any apprehension; but I pledge it to you, too, with the greatest readiness. That first unlucky obligation, I have paid. I have no doubt Mr. Micawber would have paid it if he could, but he could not. One thing I ought to mention, which I like very much in Mr. Micawber, Copperfield. It refers to the second obligation, which is not yet due. He don't tell me that it is provided for, but he says it WILL BE. Now, I think there is something very fair and honest about that!' I was unwilling to damp my good friend's confidence, and therefore assented. After a little further conversation, we went round to the chandler's shop, to enlist Peggotty; Traddles declining to pass the evening with me, both because he endured the liveliest apprehensions that his property would be bought by somebody else before he could re-purchase it, and because it was the evening he always devoted to writing to the dearest girl in the world. I never shall forget him peeping round the corner of the street in Tottenham Court Road, while Peggotty was bargaining for the precious articles; or his agitation when she came slowly towards us after vainly offering a price, and was hailed by the relenting broker, and went back again. The end of the negotiation was, that she bought the property on tolerably easy terms, and Traddles was transported with pleasure. 'I am very much obliged to you, indeed,' said Traddles, on hearing it was to be sent to where he lived, that night. 'If I might ask one other favour, I hope you would not think it absurd, Copperfield?' I said beforehand, certainly not. 'Then if you WOULD be good enough,' said Traddles to Peggotty, 'to get the flower-pot now, I think I should like (it being Sophy's, Copperfield) to carry it home myself!' Peggotty was glad to get it for him, and he overwhelmed her with thanks, and went his way up Tottenham Court Road, carrying the flower-pot affectionately in his arms, with one of the most delighted expressions of countenance I ever saw. We then turned back towards my chambers. As the shops had charms for Peggotty which I never knew them possess in the same degree for anybody else, I sauntered easily along, amused by her staring in at the windows, and waiting for her as often as she chose. We were thus a good while in getting to the Adelphi. On our way upstairs, I called her attention to the sudden disappearance of Mrs. Crupp's pitfalls, and also to the prints of recent footsteps. We were both very much surprised, coming higher up, to find my outer door standing open (which I had shut) and to hear voices inside. We looked at one another, without knowing what to make of this, and went into the sitting-room. What was my amazement to find, of all people upon earth, my aunt there, and Mr. Dick! My aunt sitting on a quantity of luggage, with her two birds before her, and her cat on her knee, like a female Robinson Crusoe, drinking tea. Mr. Dick leaning thoughtfully on a great kite, such as we had often been out together to fly, with more luggage piled about him! 'My dear aunt!' cried I. 'Why, what an unexpected pleasure!' We cordially embraced; and Mr. Dick and I cordially shook hands; and Mrs. Crupp, who was busy making tea, and could not be too attentive, cordially said she had knowed well as Mr. Copperfull would have his heart in his mouth, when he see his dear relations. 'Holloa!' said my aunt to Peggotty, who quailed before her awful presence. 'How are YOU?' 'You remember my aunt, Peggotty?' said I. 'For the love of goodness, child,' exclaimed my aunt, 'don't call the woman by that South Sea Island name! If she married and got rid of it, which was the best thing she could do, why don't you give her the benefit of the change? What's your name now, - P?' said my aunt, as a compromise for the obnoxious appellation. 'Barkis, ma'am,' said Peggotty, with a curtsey. 'Well! That's human,' said my aunt. 'It sounds less as if you wanted a missionary. How d'ye do, Barkis? I hope you're well?' Encouraged by these gracious words, and by my aunt's extending her hand, Barkis came forward, and took the hand, and curtseyed her acknowledgements. 'We are older than we were, I see,' said my aunt. 'We have only met each other once before, you know. A nice business we made of it then! Trot, my dear, another cup.' I handed it dutifully to my aunt, who was in her usual inflexible state of figure; and ventured a remonstrance with her on the subject of her sitting on a box. 'Let me draw the sofa here, or the easy-chair, aunt,' said I. 'Why should you be so uncomfortable?' 'Thank you, Trot,' replied my aunt, 'I prefer to sit upon my property.' Here my aunt looked hard at Mrs. Crupp, and observed, 'We needn't trouble you to wait, ma'am.' 'Shall I put a little more tea in the pot afore I go, ma'am?' said Mrs. Crupp. 'No, I thank you, ma'am,' replied my aunt. 'Would you let me fetch another pat of butter, ma'am?' said Mrs. Crupp. 'Or would you be persuaded to try a new-laid hegg? or should I brile a rasher? Ain't there nothing I could do for your dear aunt, Mr. Copperfull?' 'Nothing, ma'am,' returned my aunt. 'I shall do very well, I thank you.' Mrs. Crupp, who had been incessantly smiling to express sweet temper, and incessantly holding her head on one side, to express a general feebleness of constitution, and incessantly rubbing her hands, to express a desire to be of service to all deserving objects, gradually smiled herself, one-sided herself, and rubbed herself, out of the room. 'Dick!' said my aunt. 'You know what I told you about time-servers and wealth-worshippers?' Mr. Dick - with rather a scared look, as if he had forgotten it returned a hasty answer in the affirmative. 'Mrs. Crupp is one of them,' said my aunt. 'Barkis, I'll trouble you to look after the tea, and let me have another cup, for I don't fancy that woman's pouring-out!' I knew my aunt sufficiently well to know that she had something of importance on her mind, and that there was far more matter in this arrival than a stranger might have supposed. I noticed how her eye lighted on me, when she thought my attention otherwise occupied; and what a curious process of hesitation appeared to be going on within her, while she preserved her outward stiffness and composure. I began to reflect whether I had done anything to offend her; and my conscience whispered me that I had not yet told her about Dora. Could it by any means be that, I wondered! As I knew she would only speak in her own good time, I sat down near her, and spoke to the birds, and played with the cat, and was as easy as I could be. But I was very far from being really easy; and I should still have been so, even if Mr. Dick, leaning over the great kite behind my aunt, had not taken every secret opportunity of shaking his head darkly at me, and pointing at her. 'Trot,' said my aunt at last, when she had finished her tea, and carefully smoothed down her dress, and wiped her lips - 'you needn't go, Barkis! - Trot, have you got to be firm and self-reliant?' 'I hope so, aunt.' 'What do you think?' inquired Miss Betsey. 'I think so, aunt.' 'Then why, my love,' said my aunt, looking earnestly at me, 'why do you think I prefer to sit upon this property of mine tonight?' I shook my head, unable to guess. 'Because,' said my aunt, 'it's all I have. Because I'm ruined, my dear!' If the house, and every one of us, had tumbled out into the river together, I could hardly have received a greater shock. 'Dick knows it,' said my aunt, laying her hand calmly on my shoulder. 'I am ruined, my dear Trot! All I have in the world is in this room, except the cottage; and that I have left Janet to let. Barkis, I want to get a bed for this gentleman tonight. To save expense, perhaps you can make up something here for myself. Anything will do. It's only for tonight. We'll talk about this, more, tomorrow.' I was roused from my amazement, and concern for her - I am sure, for her - by her falling on my neck, for a moment, and crying that she only grieved for me. In another moment she suppressed this emotion; and said with an aspect more triumphant than dejected: 'We must meet reverses boldly, and not suffer them to frighten us, my dear. We must learn to act the play out. We must live misfortune down, Trot!'

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