Current Events, Health, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Pinterest, Quotes, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing

Notable Quotes Part Two July 2017 #quotes #pinterest 


Welcome to the second half of notable Quotes. May you find inspiration, hope, and honesty in these quotes. Remember she is for the most part replaceable with he. Happy Wedding to my cousin and in two days I’m 32-Years -old. I’m excited and not. Lol. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Friday Music Prompt, History, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, Music and Performers, My Thoughts, Relationship, Religion/Morality

Music Prompt: Teegan’s Potion – Part 3: Teegan’s Potion and His Passion (Rated R) #fiction #paranormal #romance #amwriting


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for Friday’s music prompt, “I Don’t Want To Talk About It” by Rod Stewart. The song is loosely used in part three. Warning Part Three contains Adult Content. 

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“I Don’t Want To Talk About It” – Rod Stewart

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http://www.pinterest.com

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Tallia drove back to Fairy Dust as fast as her Vespa would take her without losing the giant fish off the Vespa’s back compartment. She was feeling afraid because she knew Teegan would be nearly awake, but felt certain he would be in enough of a fog she would have time to make the potion he required. She prayed the tonic took his darkness away, the shadow that stalked him. But at the same time Tallia knew, the shadow was Teegan.

The presence of darkness lurked as Tallia quietly opened the back door, slipping inside her shop. She set the goldfish in his bag, down on a countertop and stood for a moment blinking tiredly. It was the middle of the afternoon and a wave of fatigue overwhelmed her. She had been up late thinking about Teegan, what he could have possibly done hundreds of years ago to be cursed so wickedly. She was thinking about him in other ways too, Tallia realized blushing.

She wasn’t sure what she’d do if Teegan knew she’d drugged him, what he’d say or do. She didn’t know how much in control Teegan was of his darkness right now. The wisest thing Tallia could do was make him his potion whenever he needed it, whatever kind of potion it was. She thought about the wisdom Teegan hopefully acquired in his centuries alive. Would it make him extra understanding?

Then again, she could be wrong. Some people never learned their lessons despite experience. Yet Tallia was sure, in Teegan’s startling green eyes had been knowledge of dark deeds and lessons learned with difficulty. The blackness in his gaze almost had the affect of repelling Tallia at first.

At the same time, his emerald eyes were seductive and drew her too Teegan. No matter his real age, he appeared to be in his thirties. He was ridiculously good looking in the truest sense. She could smell his particular pleasing scent from where she leaned against the counter in the back of her store. Where she put together potions and caste spells for magical items customer’s required.

Perhaps, it was her heightened sense of smell which brought to life Teegan’s addictive scent, or maybe her memories were more vivid due to her attraction to him.

Tallia jumped when a voice whispered in her ear.

——-

“Where’d you go? How come my potion’s not made? I need it now Tallia,” he whispered.
“Teegan?”

“Yep, I’m awake, thanks for the nap by the way. Did you find out what you needed too? I see you got the giant gold fish. You’re worried about me and the shadow around me which makes you sick. You went and talked to Jude. He’s been around over a century. Old for most humans, but not as old as me, Tallia.”

“I didn’t talk to Jude, he’s in the hospital because he had a stroke and isn’t doing well,” Tallia sad with sadness.” I talked to his great-grandson Aspen. He run’s the store now I guess. He said you were cursed, that you did something terrible. That’s why you’ve so much darkness. How do you make it go away Teegan? What happens if you don’t take this potion?”

Tallia felt warm and comfortable and realized Teegan had moved to hold her from behind, his arms crossed against her stomach. Teegan’s head suddenly lay against hers and she could feel him sigh as if he could finally relax. Tallia had never been so near to Teegan, she felt dizzy in good way. It felt wonderful to be held so gently, though she wondered if Teegan realized he had moved to comfort her.

——

Moments later, Tallia felt Teegan’s lips firmly on the side of her neck, traveling up under her ear and sucking gently on her earlobe. His lips moved back down her neck to the v-neck of her sweater. He kissed her over her heart and Tallia shivered when his lips traced her neck, went over her chin, and landed on her lips. Her heart was racing, she felt hot and cold all over.

Teegan bit her lip gently, seeking access to her mouth. His tongue met hears with need. Tallia couldn’t think, could only feel. Her connection with Teegan was something new to her. This sense of knowing him and recognizing him, beyond the physical sense. In her mind, she could feel him encouraging her to relax.

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispered.

Teegan kissed Tallia until she was breathless, his hands massaging her stomach, sides, and hips. His hand moved up to squeezing her breast over her sweater and short coat. She moaned when he broke off his the kiss leaving Tallia wanting. He breathed in the crook of her neck, his hand not moving, but not leaving either. It seemed as if hours had passed but it had only been minutes.

Teegan collected himself and moved a distance from Tallia as he spoke: “Tallia, I can’t. I want to, but I shouldn’t have done that; it confused you. I need you to make my potion now please. You’re the only one who can do it. It has to be one of your bloodline. And if you don’t I’ll turn evil. I’ll be a curse myself, a terrible man. I’ve done such evil because I’m cursed, or was before your gifted ancestor came up with this potion. It’s the only way to keep me from turning, Tallia. You and I, we’re tied together because of your ancestor. You remind me of her,” Teegan remarked.

“You need to tell me the entire story. This isn’t fair Teegan. Of course, I’ll make the potion. But my Aunt never told me any of this. The cancer took her a way in so little time. I need more answers from you,” Tallia pleaded.

I don’t want to talk about it Tallia. Make the potion. You’re breaking my heart here,” Teegan said rolling his eyes.

“What if I don’t?”

“I’ll be evil, as I’ve said and as I’m sure Aspen told you. I’ll hurt you, probably kill you, and I don’t want to do that. If I kill you, I’ll be evil forever — until someone kills me. You’re the last in your line. Make the potion, Tallia, we could be happy.”

“We?”

“Tallia, make it now! You know I’m not trying to deceive you. You can feel it.”

“Yes, you’re right. I do feel you’re being genuine. I’ll make it as fast I can.”

——

Tallia gathered all the ingredients she had laid out earlier and brought them to an extremely large mixing bowl. She measured all the ingredients into the bowl quickly and accurately, barely thinking. She followed the directions in Aunt Willow’s tome and chanted the right words when she needed to say them. Pouring out the water of the giant gold fish’s bag in a sink, she slid the giant flopping gold fish into her bowl. With wide eyes she watched the potion simmer and turn scarlet.

Aspen had been right, the goldfish was a sacrifice of life. Although a mouse or anything small would’ve done the job, but her ancestor’s writing said the giant goldfish was preferred. Tallia strained the chunks of ingredients from the mixture; the goldfish had disintegrated.

Tallia pulled a beer stein out of her cupboard to Teegan’s surprise. She poured half of the scarlet liquid into the earthen beer stein. Teegan had been watching Tallia create the potion the entire time. He hadn’t said anything, only watched her, familiar with her actions. He’d probably watched her Aunt Willow and her Great-Aunt do the same. And many of Tallia’s ancestors, if she could believe his story.

She turned around from the giant bowl and found Teegan beside her, leaning against the counter studying her. His hand moved, pushing her light purple-grey hair behind her ear. He was so much taller than her, Tallia thought.

Teegan smiled when she offered him the beer stein.”Where’s yours?”he asked her.

“Where’s my what?”

Your half of the potion? You have to drink it with me,” Teegan told her.

Tallia was about to protest but he was gazing at her in a particular way. She noticed the pain usually hidden in his eyes present. She felt it through her being and it softened her heart; her protests crumbled.

” I wish I wasn’t so intuitive, Teegan. You do really need me to drink your tonic with you? Do you promise I’ll be okay?”

“I promise. Your Aunt, she was always fine. You’ll find it invigorating actually,” he said.

Tallia nodded reading what Teegan had told her in the tome beside her on the counter. How did she miss that direction? Peering up she noticed him pouring her a beer stein of the remaining liquid. She took the potion from him, grimacing because she knew the ingredients in it. She tasted a bit of the potion, testing the flavour. It tasted like cinnamon and a woodsy red wine. How could that be? 

“Bottoms up?” Teegan said holding up his stein.

Talia clinked her stein with his, “Slainte,” she said.

—–

Teegan’s potion was easy going down. Tallia could feel a lightness, as if her cares were floating free. She felt energy, Teegan was right. His potion did feel invigorating. Her mind felt intensely perceptive as well. Swallowing the remenants of the liquid she saw Teegan had already finished his.

“Better, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s amazing stuff,” she said peering everywhere, everything around her was completely crystal clear. Her early fatigue was gone. Tallia noticed Teegan’s dark circles had faded. He appeared younger, his few wrinkles smoothed out. He was gazing at her again in certain way, and she knew from the flicker in his green-eyes what he wanted. Tallia felt almost drunk, except the potion made everything feel real.

She laughed aloud and Teegan frowned,”What?”

“No you’re not getting that from me,” she said.

“It wasn’t difficult to get a kiss and more from you before. You like me. I can tell, I like you too,” Teegan said, eyes darkening and meeting her own.

“No,” Tallia said laughing again. “You have to earn it. Take me out. Tell me about yourself and my ancestors. Did you sleep with one of my great- great – female relatives?”

“Don’t you feel like you’re burning up inside? I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t . . .” he said approaching Tallia, following her as if she were prey. “I slept with the first of your ancestors I knew, she was my .  . .  my woman, for a while. But she died and we never had a child.”

Tallia backed away from Teegan smiling, wary but turned on at the same time. He was irresistible and Tallia found herself trapped against a wall. She laughed more as Teegan stripped off his shirt and unbuckled his belt. Her mouth ran dry seeing his finely sculpted body. He grinned and grabbed both her hands, holding her hands above her head. Tallia whimpered and Teegan chuckled.

“I’m not, I’m not a one night type of girl and you’re . . . you smell so good. But you’ve lived so much longer than me, what could you possibly see in me,” she murmured.

“You’re not one night Tallia.  I was thinking many many and I see you’re beautiful and gifted; you’re also intelligent.You didn’t immediately trust me.”

“Okay . . .” Tallia began but Teegan’s lips roughly met hers and she gasped as his tongue invaded sliding against hers. His hands were everywhere beneath her shirt and bralette. Then her shirt and bralette were gone and his mouth was there and she couldn’t contain her cries. “Oh no . . .”

He removed his mouth breathing hard, “Stop?”

“Oh please no!” Tallia said.

He chuckled and continued loving her with his mouth. “Teegan . . .” she whispered, feeling her body melt into his.

He pulled off the rest of her clothes, kissing her slightly round stomach and turning her around to kiss Tallia all over back and to her surprise, over her hips and bottom. His fingers found her center and rubbed below, circling her sweet spot, his thumb pressing against her.

“Please please. . .”

Teegan kissed her bottom again and turned her around so his head was level with Tallia’s belly button. He kissed her stomach before thrusting two fingers into her core, she shook and nearly screamed. It hurt but it was okay because the pleasure of his fingers going in and out of her was intense. She wailed when his fingers took her over the edge.

He kissed her, his lips and tongue centered on her core. The sensations Tallia felt were indescribable. Teegan was teasing her, he knew she need to come again but wasn’t letting her; he was making her wait for him. Teegan removed the rest of his clothes and gently lifted Tallia’s body onto the counter. He pushed both his fingers inside her again, adding a third.

“I’ve never . . .” she whispered suddenly shy.

“At your age? I’m flattered, no one values that these days,” Teegan whispered.

Tallia flushed, “Well it’s complicated. It’s gone but, I never had sex.”

“What do you mean?” Teegan asked stopping. His voice sounded grim.

Don’t stop, don’t,” Tallia begged.

“Okay, but I will kill whoever did it to you,” he promised.

Tallia believed Teegan, he appeared dead serious even though they were having sex.”It’s fine,” she mumbled. “It was a university party. I was too drunk and fell asleep and he was there sometime. When I woke up he was gone and I hurt,” Tallia admitted anxious for Teegan to continue loving her.

“Are you okay, are . . .”

“Please don’t, don’t stop. Please I need you.”

Teegan nodded, understanding. “You’ve got me,” he replied.He guided himself to her entrance and gently pushed inside.

“Okay?”

“Good, more.” Tallia said gripping his sides until Teegan was completely inside her. It stung and hurt but it was also the best feeling she could imagine when he began to move. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he whispered dirty things in her ear, all the things he wanted to do to her.

She felt his rhythm increase and her own body released again, more powerfully this time. She felt the final pushes of him in her body as he came. Teegan breathed heavily, holding Tallia and kissing her forehead.

Then, Tallia was crying, amazed tears were falling down her face. But Teegan gently hushed her and kissed her tears. It was hard for her to believe Teegan could ever be an evil monster. Tallia needed to know more about his past, when he was ready to tell her; she hoped it was soon.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, My Thoughts, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Three Line Tales, Writing

Three Line Tales: A Letter To Whomever Brought the Cupcakes #amwriting #3LineTales


Thanks to Sonya of 100 Words or Less for hosting 3 Line Tales.

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Stephanie McCabe

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To Whom It May Concern:

1. Wow, you’ve brought scrumptious, mouth watering, sinfully fattening, cupcakes to work, however; there’s a problem or three with the cupcakes you’ve bought to share; first of all, the cupcakes are small, if you’re going to allow us all to indulge in a cupcake, at least make the cupcake full size, not mini; cupcake are not a delicious treat most of us have often so please, don’t leave us wanting more ( a second cupcake) when you’ve only brought enough for one each.

2. The second issue I have is, your cupcakes aren’t chocolate; a most grevious error on your part, I don’t know who decides to bring cupcakes to work and doesn’t buy chocolate ones; chocolate is beloved by the majority of people and vanilla is boring (even if it vanilla does smell delightful), vanilla isn’t chocolate, it can’t compare; you’ve unknowingly offended at least all the females in our work area by bringing cupcakes which aren’t chocolate; in fact, I’d say my day is ruined, having seen the cupcakes and realized, they weren’t chocolate or even chocolate iced.

3. My third issue has to do with the icing on the cupcakes; I understand, you’re not the baker and you don’t ice the cupcakes yourself, but the icing is the best part of the cupcake; a slightly stale cupcake can get away with being stale, if the icing is to die for; vanilla icing could be satisfying but again, chocolate would have clearly, been the wiser icing choice; as well as choosing cupcakes which were “fully” iced; the baker’s icing style has much to be desired because the baker did not ice to the end of the cupcake, to the cupcake paper edge; icing is the most imperative aspect of a superb cupcake, perhaps, in the future, when you visit this cupcake bakery again, you will choose cupcakes with more icing; while the icing was delicious, there was far to little of it.

 I’m no cupcake expert, but I know what I like when I taste it.

Sincerely, 

Anonymous 

My Thoughts, NaPoWriMo, Nonfiction, Poetry, Prose Poetry, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Travel, Writing

NaPoWriMo: Poem – Long Lines – “Eleven- Years Strong “


Finally, our prompt (optional, as always!) Today’s prompt comes to us from Megan Pattie, who points us to the work of the Irish poet Ciaran Carson, who increasingly writes using very long lines. Carson has stated that his lines are (partly) based on the seventeen syllables of the haiku, and that he strives to achieve the clarity of the haiku in each line. So today, Megan and I collectively challenge you to write a poem with very long lines. You can aim for seventeen syllables, but that’s just a rough guide. If you’re having trouble buying into the concept of long lines, maybe this essay on Whitman’s infamously leggy verse will convince you of their merits. Happy writing!

Please see NaPoWriMo for more information.

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Missing the ladies, who I grew into adulthood with and we saw,

The Grand Canyon in its burnt orange and red glory set,

Peering far down into the canyon, too close to the edge smiling,

Pulling each other back, to flash pictures on cameras all of us worn.

And planning each Thursday night to go dancing and drinking down on Whyte,

Collecting free drinks, shots from young men, paying ninty-nine-cents at the end.

Frequently, snapping pictures at winter formals, wearing our finest,

Staying at the fanciest and most historical hotel for sixty bucks,

Four girls to a room, preparing their hair and makeup, perfection, beauty.

If only I could be as fat, as I thought I was at twenty-one-years-old,

Thinking my stomach stuck-out, it wasn’t concave, it was fine and flat.

Walking through Vegas in stiletto heels, not feeling the pain, lost shoe —

My friend had a lovely Silky black-heel, she dropped walking back, barefoot.

Crying at 3:00 am (forget), remember times smiling and laughing.

Working in the same store, I dream I work their at night with my ladies,

Now raising kids, puppy training, fiancés, husbands, moving in — life changes.

From twenty-years-old to thirty-one-years old nearly; eleven years still strong.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Rondel - ABba abAB abbaA, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Poem: Rondel – “Before the Fall”


A French form consisting of 13 lines: two quatrains and a quintet, rhyming as follows: ABba abAB abbaA. The capital letters are the refrains, or repeats.

Please see Shadow Poetry for more information.

Also, Thank you to The Daily Post for the word prompt edge.
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http://www.pinterest.com

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Looking down, your head starts to spin,

You’re on the edge, everyone falls,

Your breath is short, on the ledge crawl,

Infinity awaits, dive in.

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The wind rushing round you, air thin.

Pushing off the ledge; you wait, stall.

Looking down, your head starts to spin.

You’re on the edge, everyone falls.

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Unsure why you came up here, head spins.

Waiting for pain, you’re enthralled.

Ground appearing close, appalled.

Kissing the earth; you took a risk, grin.

Looking down, your head starts to spin.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, Flash Fiction, My Thoughts, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Sunday Photo Fiction: A Dangerous Drive


“Where are we Joline?” James asked his wife. Joline rolled her eyes.

“Look, James. Just because you drive most of the time when we’re in the car together, doesn’t mean I’m not a skilled driver.” James appeared skeptical.

“Well, we’ve been stuck in traffic a long time. Maybe we should find a better route?” Joline cast James a withering look.

“It’s Portland and it’s rush hour traffic. I’m following the route the GPS is telling me to take.” James sighed. He was about to say something when their car was rammed from behind.

“Are you kidding me?” James complained. “This is a Mercedes.” He looked behind him to see a white pick-up truck backing up.

“What’s wrong with the truck driver. Why is doing that to us?” Joline asked, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles.

The truck rammed the Mercedes again. James and Joline’s car grew perilously closer to the edge of the freeway. “Let me drive Joline. I’ll get us out of this honey,” James assured his wife.

They were changing seats when the truck crashed into them again. The Mercedes flipped and hurled down to a lower level of the freeway and burst into flame.

The driver of the truck sped off, dodging through traffic which had begun to move. As he drove by, he watched the Mercedes burn with boredom. Stupid tourists.

Roads
Alistair Forbes “The Freeway in Portland.”

Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

 

Poetry, Writing

Poem: A Touch of Whimsy 


If were to choose the way we go, do we decide on a whim or a calculated thought?

Do we think in rays of colours and decisions weighed upon indecisions of the past? Do we lay out a plan with direction, not leave anything to chance?

I think I prefer to say ‘ Come what may,’ and handle the onslaught of the future when I am hurdling forward on the the road of life; having planned some things, I’d like to leave a bit to chance.

To swallow my doubts, and insecurities. To ride on the edge provided that I have a safety net. Or slip over the ledge and fly in the bluest sky, you’ve ever seen.

I think that there is risk in life and you can decide all you like but if you don’t put your feet in the ocean and stand your ground as the waves crash in, you’re missing something, a piece of mystery. 

It’s important to think, to weigh the scales that we must, to concretely choose to make a move, or to let the world turn around another day without interference.

We can’t control everything, we can ask all the questions and have all the answers, but if you don’t swim in the waves and look into the whirlpool, you lose;  there is a special knowledge revealed there. 

So squirm in delight in the first sunlight. And decide what you must when you must choose. But leave room for whimsy and a touch of moonlight.

My Thoughts, Writing

Literary Lion – Thoughts on the Edge. 


Standing at the edge of something is a difficult place to be but it’s a place we regularly function in, some of us better then others.  It’s just like looking over the edge of the whirlpool, waiting to jump in, knowing what’s on the otherside may make you sorry that you missed it. But it may also destroy you or define you, as poet Margeret Avison describes in the poem “The Whirl Pool.” 

Stevan Tyler of Aerosmith sang that living on the edge, “you can’t help yourself from falling” and I think he had a good point when it comes to living in this world, we are always on the edge of choices and decisions. 

Paul Brandt sings in his song Risk, ” I’d rather stand on the edge of a cliff and hang my toes over a bit and jump even if it scared me and I got hurt. I’d rather live my whole life with a sense of abhandon, squeeze every drop out no matter what happens, and not wonder what I had missed – I would rather risk.” I think that says it all, he would like to live without regrets. 

Imagine standing at the Grand Canyon and going out onto that glass look-out point, the one you can see right through at the rapids far below you and the layers of brick red, dirty orange, vanilla, and brown canyon as far as the eye can see. Or imagine waiting at the falls at Niagra and watching the water going over. The edge is a difficult place to be but there is often this sense of freedom and no regrets associated with the word; but not always. 

Think about someone being  mentally and psychologically pushed over the edge due to mental illness or something they can’t handle. This is a vicious place to be for someone experiencing mental trauma such as psychosis, depression, or anxiety. And the majority of these people just need your understanding, your help, and your friendship. 

 I think mentally and psychologically, the edge is a hard line to define in exenuating circumstances, where people become violent.  For instance, no one knows what makes killers of unhappy people on campus, when they go and shoot everyone they can put a bullet into. Is there a point when this could have been stopped? Citizens know that with tighter gun regulations these type of events go down dramatically as do gun related deaths. That’s an edge to me, an edge the US government and citizens have fallen off of and will continue to do so until laws restrict guns. 

As for myself, I face a different kind of edge dealing with a life on the edge of exhaustion. I’m always trying to push myself past my limits, only to be stuck in bed the next day because using all my energy has made me ill. So, when I’m out, I must keep track of that three hour mark, knowing that if I let myself go past that edge I will deeply regret it  for one or two days after. That three hour mark is an edge I balance on as I plan what I am going to be doing each day of the week and how I am going to manage if plans change, as they often do. 

I use to live on different edges — the edge of drinking, that point where you have had a lot to drink but not so much that you will regret it the next day. Or the edge of a relationship. At what point is enough enough. When I played sports there was that edge, at what point do you pull someone off for not playing well and put someone else in? At what point when you are losing does the team collapse and fall apart and start getting mad at each other. When do they start to learn how to get past that drama and play well anyways. 

Edges are despicable places to be, but they definitely define us in a moment, a split second of choice; a mental, emotional,  or psychological decision. Here’s to you as you face that edge and I hope the edge you face is good place to immerse yourself in. May you never be afraid to step off it, thoughtfully, in the right moment.  May you have the courage to help and face others who have wrongly stepped of the edge, and lead them back to stability. 

Thanks toI Smith Words for the prompt edge.