#Amos: sup

[cassiefisherdrake]

aro!Amos/ace!Clarissa QPR

[hyperfixiation-station]

Hi Sun, could I please request some Alejandro whump headcanons? How does this man react to being taken care of? I love your writing 💜

CW: Sickness, Injuries, Canon-Typical Violence thank youuu anon!!! also sorry for the wait😭😅 I did ramble a bit, so sorry if it doesn't make sense or things get repeated Also I wrote this at 2 veeeery different times so sorry again😭 as always, no beta read, and feel free to ask for clarification on anything :))

My dude is man-cold kinda guy It has nothing to do with the fact that he doesn’t know how to ask for affection and you always cuddle with him when he’s sick

But only for unimportant things. A cold or a sprained ankle?

He's dying, needing you to cater to his every need

But if he's seriously sick or injured he will push himself till he passes out

You have threatened to tie him down if he does not obey his medical leave

Case in point:

He had some lung issues after pulling Rudy from the fire during the whole Hassan fiasco

He got pneumonia because he didn’t rest and exposed himself to cold, wet environments

Oh and he had fracturedbruised ribs from his time with teh Shadows

Of course he didn’t go to the doctor, and you were out of town and couldn't force him to

You walked in on him coughing so hard he couldn't breathe

Blood was splattered on the floor as the coughing aggravated his ribs which aggravated his lungs which made him cough and then it'd start all over

You watched in horror as he choked, as he tried to inhale something other than his saliva

The 12 minutes and 47 seconds it took for Rudy to get to your house were the longest of your life

He was confused when he woke up in the hospital two days later, until he saw you sitting next to his bed, your hand in his, head lolled to the side as you slept.

You gave him a reaming of a life time

"Do you not care Alejo? About yourself? About Rudy? About me? Do you not care what we would feel if you died because you're too Godsdammed stubborn to ask for help? You made this-"

"Ay Cariño, you are beautiful when you cry."

"Don't try to flirt you're way out of this Vargas, I am so worriedmad at you right now."

"I am sorry Amo-"

"Don't do this again Alejo,. I don't think I could handle walking in to find you...because you didn't take care of yourself, okay?"

He hit a wall at that point in your tirade, and you could see it

You climbed into the bed with, curled up so your head was on his chest and fell asleep, the first peaceful night you'd had since coming home and finding him

Things were different after that

It was slow going, but you could see him making an effort to tell you when things were bothering him, to not deflect his emotions and issues

You make him chicken noodle soup when he's sick

And then you'll climb in bed with him and watch Disney movies until he falls asleep

You don't kiss him when he's sick because, ew, germs

But you'll cuddle and run your fingers through his hair

Your dialogue when he's actually hurt vs. when he's exaggerating is drastically different

"Sick" days look like: "Ay, you'll feel better baby." "You're no' gonna die, it's just a sprained ankle." "Do not kiss me Alejo." "Yes baby, we can watch a movie."

Sick sick days look like: "Alejandro sit your ass down!" "Do not make me call Rudy over here." "What do you think you're doing? Alejandro!" "Alejo, baby, why won't you let me help you?"

He got sick 2 weeks after you moved in with him

Like really, actually, sick(he had the flu)

Your first clue something was wrong was when you woke before him

The man had woken up at 6:45 am on the dot your whole relationship, so you knew something was up.

The heat you could feel radiating under the covers was the second

You were fully prepared for over-dramatic, whiny, clinginess, just like he'd acted when he got the cold a couple of months ago

So you were surprised when he got out of bed and started getting ready for work

Your third clue something was up was the fact that he didn't notice you watching him lean against the door for support as he pulled his pants on

"Alejo?" He spun around to face you, honest to god swaying on his feet

"Alejo, baby, you can't go to work like that."

"Like what?" His voice had just the slightest quaver to it

You looked his flushes face, his trembling hands, the way he was leaning against the door and sighed

The only reason you even got him back to bed was because he had the day off, he had just wanted to train

It hurt a little, how he didn't ask you for anything. He didn't beg you to cuddle or hold him, in fact it didn't seem like he wanted you there at all

Not because he wasn't being loving or because you felt unwanted

But because you knew it came from a childhood of misplaced trust and neglect.

He made it clear he didn't want to be touched, but you still hesitantly placed your hand on his forehead to check his temperature

The way he pressed into your palm and the small, shuddering sigh he gave broke your heart.

In the end you had Rudy pull him from the schedule, and spent the next week curled up with him in bed

You got into a very heated argument on day 3, which ended with you in tears and him coughing so hard he can't breathe

When you stayed with him, rubbing his back even after everything, things got better

He still doesn't like being a burden, but it's a start

He didn't/doesn't like your desire to care for him, not because he didn’t want it, but because he didn't know what to do with it/doesn't understand it

He’s spent his whole life in a warzone. He’s never had the opportunity/ability to sit back and let someone take care of him.

It wasn't that people didn't love him as a child, but in-between the drug-trades, gang fights, the cartels push for power and the subsequent war launched by the government, the struggle to survive outweighed any of his problems.

"Alejandro, we can't afford a doctors visit right now, you'll just have to drink some water." "Ay mijo, you have to be more careful, I can't afford the hospital bill to fix your arm, we'll just have to wrap it up at home." "Alejandro I already told you, we can't make it to the ceremony." "I can't, we can't, you can't..."

He’s used to patching himself up, used to people not having time or resources to care when he’s injured. It why he over plays the little things, because he didn't worry anyone when or take up precious time when his ailments could be fixed with a band-aid

His family was too busy making sure they survived to give him the attention a child required. It's why him and Rudy are such good friends.

They spent more time with each other than with their own flesh and blood.

My man does not like being open, and Valeria's betray

He deflects, much in the same way he did as a kid, by overplaying the little things so no one notices the big things.

For the longest time you had to have Rudy text you when Alejandro got injured, because he wouldn't tell you

Anyways hope you enjoyed my rambling!! I tried out a new format so lmk how you like it! Oh and reqs are open :3

[aigiornileggeri]

mi spiace per tutti quelli che mi scrivono e che puntualmente appendo.

non sono nel mood di fare nuove conoscenze.

vedi il finanziere che sta ancora aspettando che gli dica quando sono libera per una cena; vedi l’ingegnere che si è auto invitato sul sup con me (menomale che non sa dove vada al mare).

voglio stare sola, ho scoperto quanto mi amo e al momento devo dare tutte le attenzioni che mi sono mancate a me stessa.

[twola]

Devil's Backbone : Limpany III

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC/Reader POV Tags: Longfic, Slow Burn, Smut (18+), Violence, Canon-Typical Injuries

Limpany’s burning was a lot more than meets the eye. Deception, greed, and murder follow everyone touched by Leviticus Cornwall. A story where the Van der Linde gang gets even more inescapably involved in Cornwall’s dealings, with the survivor of the massacre at the heart of it all. Slow burn. Pre-Blackwater and beyond.

Limpany III: Cleanse the Shallow Root

“You best know better than to quarrel with Leviticus Cornwall.”

CW:  racism, violence, injuries, death. you know, the normal RDR stuff.

➵ AO3 Link ➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ Previous | ➵ Next

“If that horse snaps at me one more time , it’s off to the glue factory with it. You hear me, Mister Shaw?”

Amos stands outside the enclosure with his hands on his hips, a scowl on his face. His hat, covered in mud, lies within the fence, perilously close to a set of hooves that move with a sense of irritation.

“Amos, he’s not an ass to anyone not deservin’. Maybe you should be nicer to him and he won’t bite at you.” Frederick rolled his eyes, leaning on the fence next to the older man. 

The ranch hand huffs. “Now that’s a lie if there ever was one. That horse is a nasty ol’ bastard even to your wife, and she ain’t got a mean bone in her body.” The horse in question plods closer to the two men; a tall, sooty Warmblood. Its dark tail swooshes at the flies around the paddock. 

Frederick grins, raising his hand toward the horse, who edges closer to him. “C’mere,  Aethon. You’re not that bad.��  The horse sidles up to Frederick, allowing him to pat down his nose. Frederick looks over to Amos with a boyish grin as he runs his other hand through the horse’s dark mane, to prove a point, flaunt manhood, or maybe both.

“Namin’ that horse after a god sure as hell gave it a complex.” Amos waves his hand in dismissal, heaving himself over the fence and grabbing his hat while Aethon was distracted. He hurries and climbs over the fence again, wary of the large workhorse. The older man slaps his hat against his thigh a few times to loosen the dirt from it.

“Amos, you aren’t heading out anytime soon, are you?”

“Nah, I figure we’re good on supplies, there’s plenty of work to do around here.”

Frederick nods. “Good. I… I think it’ll be good for Ruth. For people to be here in town for a minute.”

Amos doesn’t meet the younger man’s gaze. He grunts in agreement, staring down at the ground. Frederick pats the horse’s head one last time before sighing and stepping away from the paddock. The ranch hand places his hat back on his head and his hands rest on his belt. “ ‘M sorry, bout what happened, Mister Shaw.”

Frederick grimaces, looking at the ground as well. He kicks at a stone beneath his boot. He reaches toward a brown leather Stetson hat slung over a fencepost. Between his fingers, the worn leather cracks and bends slightly before he places it on his head. 

An awkward silence falls upon the two of them, punctuated by the sound of the Warmblood’s hooves scraping the ground, its heavy breathing through flared nostrils.

“Y’all look like you’re hardly working out here. Running out of things to do?”

The men both look up to find you standing at the back door, hands crossed over your chest. You’re clad in a brown velvet vest over a cream-colored blouse, belted over a mauve skirt. Your blonde hair is gathered at the nape of your neck in a black threaded snood, pinned behind your ears. Quirking an eyebrow, you tap your foot in mock frustration. “I know that horse is difficult, but it doesn’t take an hour to feed him. You two are just gossiping out here.”

“Missus Shaw, by the angels! Did you see the sign? I got it put up out by the road.”

You roll your eyes, strolling over to the fence where the two men were loitering.  “C’mon, the both of you. One of the gents who just stopped in the saloon said he passed a wagon train with several workers heading this way. They may be here by supper. We’re gonna need everyone in the saloon.”

Amos tips his hat, “Yes ma’am,” he looks at Frederick, “You, uh, heard the boss, sir.” He pulls a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his jacket. Fumbling with it, he strides off, around the paddock toward the front of the cabin toward the street.

“I meant you too, Mister Shaw.” 

A smirk crosses his features. He didn’t shave this morning, a slight shadow of stubble adorns his jaw. You can’t help but smile back, this husband of yours still makes your heart flip flop in your chest like the day you first saw him, years ago.

“On my way, Missus Shaw.”

He shuffles by you, grabbing your waist and pulling you to him with a laugh. He slots his lips against yours in a searing kiss before pulling back, squeezing your hip as he goes to follow Amos.  For a few moments, you watch him, before shaking your head slightly and smoothing your skirts down. You pull at your brown velvet vest, smoothing a crease that appeared over the flare of your waist. 

The horse in the paddock notices you, moving slowly toward your side of the enclosure.

“Today the day you’re gonna be nice to me, Aethon?” You ask, nervously raising your hand to Aethon’s head to pat it. The huge horse must notice your nervousness and agitation, because he quickly draws his head back, flaring his nostrils before nipping at your hand with his teeth. You gasp and pull your hand back just in time to avoid getting bitten.

“Nope, not today, you damned horse.” You retort at the huge beast, cradling your hand that very closely escaped a grizzly fate. A fading pink scar in the webbing of your hand was a permanent reminder of Aethon’s temper and how hard he could bite.

A shout pierces the air of the late afternoon, and you glance over toward the saloon across the way. More travelers seem to be stopping in Limpany daily, which leaves the saloon and store busier than ever. Soon enough, you’ll be able to hire more than just Ulysses and Amos to help. Hire them some help.

Frederick’s inheritance covered most of the costs of building the saloon and store, and the few small cabins dotting the hillside. Somehow, Stockdale was able to convince the state of New Hanover to fund the building of a Sheriff’s Office and the stone jail built into the sloping cliff.  Having seen how he operates, you're sure that Hilliard Stockdale knows the right people to ask favors of or whose pockets to grease with future investments.

You lean against the fencepost, watching Aethon pace around the enclosure, uninterested in you. Certainly, if someone had told you a year and a half ago you were building a town in the farthest reaches of New Hanover, you would have laughed.  

Sighing, you gather your skirts and walk across the muddy path around your cabin, heading to the lane that divides Limpany, and to the saloon where a couple of travelers have ridden up to. Glancing toward the river, you pause, before moving quickly toward the entrance to the little hamlet, toward the well-worn road on the banks of the Dakota. The afternoon sun glinted on the river’s waters, gently flowing down toward Flat Iron Lake. Covering your eyes from the light, your peer southward, where the black steel of Bard’s Crossing lies in the distance, connecting New Hanover to West Elizabeth.

Turning northward again, you stride through the grass, under the large oak tree. You move around two stakes in the ground, supporting a wooden panel at shoulder height. You can’t help the quirked smile that graces your face, as you take in the view. 

WELCOME TO LIMPANY

Hands on your hips, you breathe in deeply through your nose, sighing contentedly. Behind the sign you painted lies your life, the settlement that you now call home. After several years of roaming, across deserts and mountains and prairies, you finally settled here, at the bend of the Dakota, building a town from the ground up, building the dreams Frederick had breathed life into those years ago.

—

The crash of glass breaking on the wooden floor was really nothing new, not in a saloon, not where ranch hands and oil riggers; cattlemen, and travelers gather. Not where men live rough lives on the unforgiving land. Not here, not in Limpany.

This, however, was a bit much, even for Ulysses. And that was coming from years working in bars and saloons, from Saint Denis to Blackwater.

“Alright, that’s enough. You two best leave. You’re done here.” He angrily glares at the two cattlemen who had taken to laying themselves across the bar, knocking over their heavily used glasses, and smashing them to pieces on the floor. One of them sits up, swaying unsteadily. “Y- y’ don’t tell me how to l-live, ya…”

He falls off the stool to the ground, limbs splaying every which way while his partner howls in laughter from the bar. Ulysses groans, rolling up his sleeves, brushing his hands off on his apron before rounding the bar. He grabs the man from the floor, dragging him by the collar. “Out, now, ya drunk.”

The man pushes away from him, stumbling several steps into a table. He grunts in a drunken huff, turning back to Ulysses. “Get off, don’t touch me, you dirty negro!”

Ulysses scowls, his hands coming to the drunken man’s collar again, pulling him from his reclined position on the table, “I told you twice, get the hell out of here. Don’t make me drag you out to the shit-covered field you came from.”

The compatriot of the man Ulysses was currently dragging off the table stood from his stool, knocking it over while bellowing at the scene drunkenly. He stumbles toward the two, grabbing Ulysses’ shoulder and trying to pull him off of the other man. Ulysses swings back against the second drunk, pushing the first man to the ground. “God damnit, you sons of bitches!” 

“Now that’s enough!” A voice bellows from the doorway, where Sheriff Stockdale strides in, drawn by the commotion and breaking glass that could be heard from outside.  The portly lawman rushes forward, grabbing the man struggling with the barkeep by the collar and yanking him to the floor. Ulysses grunts in appreciation, turning back to the first ranch hand, who was crawling along the floor trying not to be seen. He was doing a poor job of it.

“Ulysses,” Stockdale shouts over his shoulder, “these men are disturbin’ the peace. I’m placin’ them under arrest, will ya help me escort them over to the holdin’ cells?”

The barkeep smirks as he leans over the man on the floor, yanking him up by the collar and pulling him toward the door of the saloon. “Sure, sir, let’s take a walk.”

Stockdale grunts, heaving the drunk to the right out the swinging door, and the man yelps and rolls into the street, groaning in the mud as the sheriff stalks out of the saloon and down the two stairs leading to the lane. Ulysses follows, dragging the second man out with his hands under his shoulders, finally, the man had stopped struggling.

This is the scene you come across as you pace the lane from your cabin toward the front door of McCluskey’s Saloon, “Sheriff?”

Stockdale looks up from the man suspended underneath his boot.  “Missus Shaw, mind you these gentlemen who are gonna spend the night sleepin’ off their rudeness.”

You roll your eyes, giving Stockdale and Ulysses a wide berth as they gathered the two men as best they could to drag them toward the small jail built into the hill. “You boys need help?”

Ulysses grins, looking up from the ground where one of the men lies. “No ma’am, but we just shoulda had you handle them in the first place, they’d run toward the hills before dealin’ with you.”

He stoops down on one knee, grabbing the drunk by the waist and heaving him over his shoulder. The inebriated ranch hand glances up at you, barely making eye contact before laughing, suspended in midair.

“Oh, s-this the town whore? H-How much to warm my bedroll tonight?”

The sheriff backhands the man across the face, knocking him silent. “Ain’t no one talk about Missus Shaw like that, you damned louse,” Stockdale shunts the second man onto his shoulder, and grasps the clinking skeleton keys on his belt, “C’mon, Ulysses, no more disturbin’ the peace from these sorry sons-of-bitches.” He tips his hat to you, “Ma’am,” and manhandles the other drunk behind Ulysses, dragging him in the mud toward the small stone jail at the edge of the hill.

“Startin’ early, I see.” 

You place your hands on your hips, turning your head back toward the saloon. Amos stands at the door, a lit cigarette between his lips. You shake your head, “Let’s hope that wagon train they told us about is a bit less rowdy.”

Amos grunts in agreement, dropping the cigarette to the floor and crunching it under his boot. 

—

“Christ, did’ya buy enough potatoes?” 

Ulysses wipes his hand down his face in exasperation, “That’s the last time you let Amos go on a supply run by hisself, Mister Shaw. The fool don’t know anything bout meal that don’t come out of a can!”

A giggle escapes before you can slap a hand over your mouth. Ulysses and Frederick, on either side of the large table in the back room of the saloon turn to you.

Your husband glares, “I don’t know why you’re laughing, dear, you’re the one who's gonna have to peel all these up.”

“Well then, I best be gettin’ to work, and hope that this wagon train is hungry.” You reply cheekily, reaching for the paring knife on the table and a potato from the heaping pile spilled out between the men.

Ulysses turns and waves his hand backward in dismissal. He grabs a bottle of whiskey from a shelf and moves back to the saloon floor. “Potato soup with a side of potatoes, gonna be a real hit around here.”

Frederick shakes his head, sighing before rubbing at his temple with one hand.

“Oh come on, it’s all in a little fun. I’ll make sure I go with Amos next time he goes to Valentine. I still haven’t been up there.” You laugh, trying to assuage your husband’s stress.

He cracks a smile over thin lips. “Amos could use some guidance …- ”

“Amos could use some babysitting …” you interject, pointing the knife’s edge at him in jest for a second before you return to peeling a potato.

Frederick snorts, bemused. “You are the wisest woman on the face of the earth, Missus Shaw.”

You smirk back at him, one eyebrow raised, “Course I am, someone has to run this town.”

“Hey, Mister Shaw! Wagon train’s here!” Ulysses yells from the front, “Amos, get your ass back there and help Missus Shaw with the cookin!”

“Shit,” Frederick mutters, pulling a pocketwatch from his vest, “sun’ll be down shortly too. Didn’t expect them this quick.”

You toss the peeled potato into a bucket of water, reaching for another one. “It’s fine. Give the boys a drink and we’ll have a pot of soup ready within the hour. It cooks fast. Get Amos back in here peelin’ spuds and I can get it out even quicker.”

Frederick nods, moving toward the door, “Amos, c’mon and help Ruth out!”

You smile to yourself, peeling the brown skin from the potato with the knife in your hand. It falls to the table in neat ribbons. By the time you have peeled your fourth potato and thrown it into the bucket, you turn toward the door, wondering where your help is. You sigh, placing the knife on the table and wiping your hands off on the apron tied at your waist.

Pushing through the door, you’re about to give Amos a piece of your mind until you enter the main room of the saloon. From behind the bar, you see that a large group of men have entered, spreading throughout the room, sitting at various tables, at the bar, and mulling about. 

One in particular stands in front of your husband. Frederick’s arms are crossed over his chest, which usually isn’t good. You catch Ulysses’s eye, who warily glances from you back to the large man in front of your husband.

“You Frederick Shaw?” The leader, a grizzled-looking man with black stains on his work jeans, eyed Frederick up and down.

“Yeah, how can I help you?” Frederick replies with a hint of skepticism in his voice.

“Misters Spence and Cornwall urge ya to reconsider their offer there, Mister Shaw.” The man drawls, hands resting on his belt, a holstered revolver barely in view under his leather jacket.

Frederick’s eyes narrow. “Misters Spence and Cornwall know my answer. And they know they can’t do anything legally to change my mind or take my land.”

The man in front of him snorts, running his hand through his scruffy beard. “Now, ya see here, Mister Shaw, that’s the wrong answer .” He nods to another man over his shoulder, a large brute of an oilman, with hard eyes and hands permanently stained black, “Hartley.”

The man named Hartley moved forward, a dark scowl on his face. He slams his palms on a circular table in the center of the room, grasping it, and throwing it over. Glass crashes and breaks on the floor as the tabletop splinters.

“Gents, I think Mister Shaw here needs come convincin’.” The leader laughs, as a few men fan out and start smashing chairs, overturning tables, and throwing glass against the wall and floors.

“That’s enough!” A voice booms from the swinging door.

Hilliard Stockdale stands in the doorway of the saloon, his recently polished badge bright on his chest. “By authority of the State of New Hanover, I order you to stop,” he drawls in a low, cold voice.

The men stop their destruction, eyes on the sheriff. The leader moseys, completely unconcerned, toward the middle-aged lawman.

Stockdale places his hand on his holstered revolver. “Now, you boys best be leavin’.”

“And you best know better than to quarrel with Mister Cornwall.”

The deafening roar of a gunshot pierces the air.  Within the confines of the saloon, it echoes loudly. Your hands move to cover your ears instantly as you scream, unable to silence yourself as the scene unfurls into chaos. The sheriff coughs, his hand slowly moving to his chest. He touched his sternum, pulling his hand back, covered in blood. He coughs again, blood sputtering from between his lips. Hilliard Stockdale’s eyes roll back as he falls to the floor. The world seems to move in slow motion.

You scream again, your hands trailing from your ears to your cheeks, your eyes wide with horror from your vantage point behind the bar.

You’re tackled to the floor, dragged below the bartop, and shoved down, a hand on the back of your head. “Ruth, c’mon, come with me!” A harsh whisper in your ear. You turn your head slightly from the floor, seeing Ulysses hovering over you, his hand moving from the back of your head to between your shoulders, grabbing at the back of your shirt and pulling you toward the door to the back room. He lets go once you raise yourself to your hands and knees. You crawl toward the back room, remaining crouched to the ground until you reach the table you had just been working at. Pulling yourself up, you gasp, your heart racing.

“Y’alright? Miss Ruth?” Ulysses places one hand on your shoulder and the other on the small of your back. 

You nod, placing both of your hands on the table trying to catch your breath. Ulysses nods, grabbing a large butcher’s knife from the table, “You stay back here, Missus Shaw,” he says urgently as he moves back toward the floor of the saloon.

Glass breaking and wood smashing reverberated from the main room as you try to catch your breath, you slowly move around the table to face the door, grabbing at another knife as you hear men shout and raised voices from the other room.

The door bursts open and you hold the knife ahead of you, knowing that you would have to claw your way out of this situation.

“Ruth!” Frederick moves around the table as you lower the knife. His temple trickled blood as he grabbed a long fire iron from along the side of the wall. 

“What’s happening? Who are those men?” You yell, wide-eyed while still grasping the butcher’s knife.

“Ruth, get in the house and lock the door. There’s a rifle behind the wardrobe in the bedroom. Go now. ” Frederick orders, ushering you out the back door of the saloon. 

“But-!”

“ Now , Ruth, I mean it.”

“Frederick-”

 “ Calluna .”

You stop, knowing that this fight is over. Your nose crinkles as your eyes water. “Be careful.”

“I will.” Frederick grabs you, kissing your forehead, before pushing you out the door. 

You gather your skirts and run behind Amos and Ulysses’ cabin, hoping that the men outside the saloon don’t see you dart across the lane. You edge closer to the stone structure of the jail, hiding behind it. Ducking around the corner, you look at the group of men perched outside the saloon. There had to be fifteen of them, surrounding a wagon loaded with what looked like barrels. You just had to make it around the Sheriff’s office before you could sneak into your house.

Breathing heavily, you run towards the wooden building, hiding behind it. You hear a man inside, furniture moving, glass smashing. It's obvious that he’s looting the office. What does he have to fear now? Sheriff Stockdale lies still on the saloon floor, bleeding out into a puddle.

From the back of the sheriff’s office, you steal the last few meters to your cabin, wrenching open the back door and locking it. You rush to the front window, falling to your knees to hide yourself as much as possible and still have a vantage across the lane to the saloon.

There have to be fifteen men, several of them standing on the saloon’s porch, mulling about. You look at their wagons further down the lane, closer to the riverbank. Three wagons were full of what looked like barrels, painted blue. Two men pull a barrel out from the wagon, walking it together back toward the saloon and the men’s cabin.

They set it down against the wall of Amos’ cabin, one man brushing the other one back as he pulls a matchbook from his jacket. He kicks the bottom of the barrel before taking several steps back. Lighting the match, he flicks it toward the barrel, which ignites with a burst of flame, and the cabin’s wooden frame catches alight. You gasp, dread pooling in your stomach as you watch several of the men unloading the blue barrels from the wagons, walking them toward different buildings.

You squint to look clearer at a barrel placed on the saloon’s porch, and can barely make out the name CORNWALL stamped on the wood. This wasn't happening. You had heard that Leviticus Cornwall was pushy, but this? Arson, murder?

Where was Frederick? Amos? Ulysses? Were they all still in the saloon?

Another barrel is lit, and you can see out the edge of the window that the Sheriff’s office next to your cabin is ablaze.

Shouts bring your gaze back to the saloon, where the door bursts open and two men drag Ulysses out, throwing him to the ground. He struggles to get up, blood pouring from his nose and mouth, as one of the men kicks him back into the mud, laughing.

One of the men pulls Ulysses up by the collar with one hand, the other one unholstering the revolver from his belt.

Again, the world seems like it moves in slow motion as the man points his revolver at Ulysses’ head and pulls the trigger.

You barely cover your mouth as you scream. Ulysses’s body hits the ground, lifeless.

There’s little time to mourn, as one of the rough men outside the door hears the noise through the window, making unfortunate eye contact with you before you duck underneath the window frame, your hand covering your mouth as you edge on hyperventilating.

“Why Miss, don’t you want to let me in?” The man yells, pulling hard on the locked door, “Darlin’, please!”

You hear laughter as you rush away from the front door and into the bedroom, throwing the door closed behind you. Rounding around the room, you push hard against the wardrobe in the corner of your room, pulling out a rifle from behind it. Glass breaks in the background.

You jerk back the bolt of the rifle as you raise it toward the door, cursing yourself for all the times Amos offered to show you how to shoot and you brushed him off. Expecting the door to be broken down, you aim the rifle at the door, squinting with one eye, ready to shoot whoever came in. You didn’t expect the glass to break on your side. You scream, nearly dropping the rifle, and throwing yourself to the floor. The bedroom window glass has been broken out by a flying object.

You look along the floor and curse, realizing that the window had been broken out by a bottle of whiskey wrapped with a burning rag, flaming across the floor. The rug along the floor immediately caught fire, and you jump to your feet, grasping the rifle and running toward the bedroom door back to the main area of the cabin. 

The door is hot, which you painfully learn by grabbing the metal handle. You yell, stumbling back, cradling your hand as you drop the rifle to the floor. Black smoke starts to creep under the door, along with the burning rug on the other side of the bed, the room begins to fill with smoke as the fire spreads quickly. You back into the far corner, coughing as you slide to the floor as the flames grow.

The heat, blazing, suffocating, choking  - you’re curled up in that corner of the room, shielding your face from the fire that surrounds you. It is deafening, the sound of the wooden cabin alight. You cough against the thick and hazy smoke, unable to see, unable to breathe, unable to escape. What used to be a post of your bed falls a few feet in front of you, exploding into sparks as you scream, trying to pedal yourself back against the wall.

“Frederick!” You yell again, hoarse, praying that your husband could hear you, but in the pit of your stomach, you knew neither he nor anyone else could. You throw yourself to your stomach, pulling yourself on your elbows against the wall, you had to get out .

A low-pitched groan of breaking wood was the only warning you received as one of the rafter beams collapsed to the floor. You were barely able to cover your head before the piece of the beam crashed down, knocking the wind from your lungs as it pinned your upper body to the ground. You scream, a hoarse, cursed sound, as you try to pull yourself out from underneath it, for not only was it trapping you, but embers chipped away at the wood, so hot against your shoulder.

It was too much. The heat, the smoke, the pain, the violence. This was it, this was where you were going to die, burned to death in the house you built, as the town of your design burned along with you. Your eyesight starts to fade in and out as you cough, trying to dislodge yourself again, in vain. Your shoulder hurts so much, it's so hot, why won’t it stop ? Above the roar of the fire, the groan of wood breaking, the sounds of dreams dying, you swear you could hear your name.

“Ruth!”

It must be a dream, you must be dying. The weight lifting from across your body must be the sweet release from these earthly bounds.

“Ruth! Ruth, come on, say something.”

It was Frederick, pulling, yanking, grasping at you.  Blood cakes the side of his face. You feel, rather than hear, the scream that escapes your lips as your husband grasps your shoulder to pull you from under the charred piece of wood.  His hand pulls away quickly, but you feel his arms wrap around your ribcage under your arm, he throws that arm across his shoulder. He pulls you up, attempting to walk you along the wall. 

You stumble, and Frederick winds his hands around your waist and he heaves you over his shoulder, you moan in pain as he moves quickly through the remains of the house, kicking the back door open and stumbling to the rear yard, coughing as he sinks to one knee to let you down from his shoulder. Another set of hands grabs you, pulling you as you trip and stumble on unsteady feet.

You hear Aethon scream in the background, the horse’s hooves hitting the ground hard in agitation.

“Darlin’, Ruth, come on, up you go.”

“A-Amos?”

You’re heaved up, hands pushing and pulling as you groan in pain, barely able to keep your eyes open. You’re barely able to stay upright, tipping backward.

“Ruth, love, stay with me.” 

Frederick’s voice is soft in your ear, and you are jostled forward again, but you feel his arm wrap around you as he pulls you back, against him. 

You’re atop the damned horse, and with a sudden burst of energy, you jerk back to awareness. Frederick is in the saddle behind you, Amos tries to steady and calm Aethon as the horse stomps angrily. You gaze past the paddock, where smoke and flame reflect as far as you can see. Your cabin, the store, the sheriff’s office. The saloon. All of Limpany burns before you.

“Go, Mister Shaw, I’ll be right behind you,” Amos yells, backing away from Aethon and moving toward his own horse across the paddock.

A gunshot pierces the night and Aethon rears with a scream. You groan as Frederick pulls hard on the reins, his arm clenching you hard to him as he tries to keep you both from tumbling off the large work horse. Frederick curses loudly, digging his spurs into Aethon’s sides and pushing the horse to move, breaking through the gate of the paddock and into a gallop toward the road on the riverbank.

“Amos…” You trail off into a moan, your hands trying to hold onto Aethon’s mane to steady yourself. Fortunately, Frederick’s hold on you is steady and strong.

"Amos is dead, Ruth.” He grits out, digging his spurs into Aethon again, pushing him faster, harder. A pained sound escapes you, and every jolt of the horse’s gait goes right to your shoulder, bursting in pain, pain, pain.

Your eyes roll back- Surely, this must be a nightmare. Surely, this must be a terrible dream. One you’ll wake from and Limpany will be as it was this morning, bright and full of the promise of the future. 

“Ruth-!”

Unconsciousness steals you like a thief in the night.

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Gale poorly explains legend of Korra

(I would normally have done this by season, so for the sake of sanity. Here is season 1)

Gale poorly explains: Legend of Korra (season 1)

-“Aang is gone and we need to find the new avatar”

-Tiny Korra bursts in

Korra: “Sup bitches! I’m the avatar”

-“Sure is kyoshi up in here”

———————————————————————-

(15 years later)

(Korra shows up in republic city)

Korra: Time to act like a female protagonist in the 2010s

(Proceeds to get arrested)

Lin: I’m a straight lace cop that is completely the opposite of my mother toph who has a metal pole up her ass.

Tenzin: I’m Aang’s son and I have to reign Korra in this season and will fail miserably.

Korra: I’m gonna slay at air bending

(Proceeds to get messed up)

Tenzin: Korra meet my family.

Pema: Hi, I’m the woman that is single handedly restoring the Air nomads until season 3. I also stole Tenzin from Lin

Jinora: Hi I’m Jinora, the only character that people like in all four seasons of the show and considered the best addition to the cast.

Ikki: I’m the annoying middle child that will piss off EVERYONE for stopping them from hearing about Zuko’s mom.

Meelo: I make fart jokes. I am one of the comic reliefs.

Korra: Well this is a thing… I’m gonna go pro bend

___________________________________

Bolin: Hey I’m the actual comic relief, and the second best character in the show. I will be trying to date you until you end up kissing my brother… in which case I will get over it after an episode

Mako: hey, im the tsundere dude that looks so generic that people wonder why im a main character. But apparently that’s sexy.

Korra: it is. I can’t wait to kiss you and cause more drama. But first a sport that makes very little sense and is really nerfed for the earth bending team.

(Winning at pro bending!)

Amon: I am part of the Equalist movement. A movement which actually makes little sense in retrospect because there are no rules descriminating against normal people, if anything it’s more like benders have it rough considering the amount of bending criminals.

Korra: He’s stealing bending! He must be stopped!

_____________________________________

Asami: Hey, I’m the hot non-bending rich girl that is a genuinely good person and I have way more chemistry with Korra than Mako, but for this season and next will be a Mako simp.

Mako: Cool

Korra: I hate her… but also am attracted to her.

Bolin: I’m just here to have fun

Hiroshi: I’m Asami’s father and totally cool with my daughter dating a filthy fire bender

_____________________________________

Tarrlok: I’m the sketchy mayor that is actually really creepy and trying to get you on bored to fight Amon.

Korra: I’m down.

(Joins the force and gets traumatized)

Korra: Yea… he is horrifying.

Lin: I’m quitting the force. Now for some character development.

_____________________________________

Bolin: Back to Probending

Tenzin: I was originally against this but now I’m a fan of this game.

(Their opponents cheat and win)

Tenzin: Is that ref Blind!? Wtf!

Korra: They cheated!

(Amon arrives and delivers karma by stealing the bending of the opponents)

Korra: okay that’s a bit Effed up.

____________________________________

Tarrlok: Now I’m gonna enforce some laws that will give the Equalists reasons to actually rebel

(Arrests Korea’s friends)

Korra: Could you not arrest my friends!

Tarrlok: No, now bend the knee

Korra: No, cause I realize you are a creepy f***er. And I will never let an obviously evil water bender trick me into helping ever again… (stay tuned for season two)

Tarrlok: Kidnapping it is!

(Reveals bloodbending)

Korra: OP please nerf

_____________________________________

(Korra learns about the blood bending past from Aang)

Aang: Long story short. Cameos and Yakone was a dick to everyone.

Korra: Dang.

(Everyone learns Tarrlok lied)

Tarrlok: Well it doesn’t matter, no one can beat me with my blood bending

Amon: I heard that you were talking s*** and you didn’t think that I would hear it.

(Steals Tarrlok’s bending)

Korra: I’m outtie (flees)

_________________________________

Amon: Time to take this city!

(Takes city)

Iroh: I’m a reference to Iroh and have Zuko’s voice. I’m immediately the best character this season. Unfortunately I’m useless right now

Korra: So we have to stop Amon. Oh look it’s the jerk mayor.

Tarrlok: Amon is actually my brother. He’s a blood bender.

Korra: Gasp! Oh wait I knew that

_____________________________________

Asami: Sorry dad, I’m not joining your equalists. Your group claims it’s fighting against controlling regimes only to become one as soon as you get power. It’s very hypocritical.

Hiroshi: Hey! Our protests were mostly peaceful. Now let us use our weapons to kill your friends.

_____________________________________

Amon: Ready for me to steal your bending

(Cue fight scene)

Amon: I stole your bending

Korra: not my air bending.

(Blasts him out the window causing him to expose himself as a bender)

Equalists: Gasps! Our leader is a bender. We’ve been lied to. This somehow ruins our movement.

Amon: (revealed to be Noatak) I must flee now.

____________________________________

Korra: Well I am only an airbender now.

Aang: but what if you weren’t. (Restores bending)

Korra: Bitching, time to fix everything

___________________________________

Noatak: Hey bro, sorry about stealing your bending let’s GTFO

Tarrlok: How about double suicide

(Off screen explosion)

____________________________________

Mako: So are we dating now

Korra: Yep!

[booklovershouse]

Oiii, booklovers!

Que livros únicos são maravilhosos, todo mundo já sabe, mas as sagas? Dão a sensação de que você está vivendo com os personagens, se mudou para a casa, trabalho, escola deles e simplesmente passou a existir lá! É como se você fizesse (ainda mais) parte da história.

Por esse motivo, eu AMO duologias, trilogias e até as sagas estilo "esquema de pirâmide", que você acha que só tem um livro e na verdade são mais de dez 🤡🫶🏻✨ ent, hj o post será dedicado à elas!

• Mais de três livros

🧡| Anne - Lucy Maud Montgomery

São 8 livros e 5 extras e vc pode encontrar eles nas feirinhas de livros do shopping (os extras é um pouco mais improvável). Acho que tem na Biblion tbm, mas li físico.

Suponho que vcs lembrem minha opinião sobre essa saga. Caso não, acho uma chatice até Anne na Casa dos Sonhos (especialmente Anne de Windy Polars) e depois levei um tombo em Rilla de Ingleside.

E, para os "desavisados" que acham que os livros têm alguma coisa a ver com a série da Netflix, já aviso que a única coisa que permanece são os nomes e personalidades de alguns personagens (pq outros nem existem).

Mas, se vc pretende acompanhar uma """biografia""" da Anne desde a infância até o crescimento dos filhos dela, leia e seja feliz.

⚠️ Aviso de uma leitora arrependida: não compre a saga inteira, por mais econômico que pareça. Leia o primeiro e depois decida se quer ler o resto.

🧡| Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (+10)

São 8 livros na edição da Principis que é a mais baratinha e vc encontra facilmente por aí, até nas feirinhas de livros do shopping e na Biblion. Não tem ordem específica, mas comece por Um Estudo em Vermelho.

Pra quem gosta de mistérios, ter 8 livros para acompanhar as aventuras do detetive mais famoso do mundo parece até pouca coisa.

Como eu disse na "descrição", sugiro começar por Um Estudo em Vermelho, que é o começo (quando o Watson e o Sherlock se conhecem), apesar de não ser um dos melhores, na minha humilde opinião. Depois disso, você lê na ordem que quiser pq não vai fazer tanta diferença. Eu, por exemplo, li dois dos livros, então os 56 contos de uma vez e aí os outros dois livros, terminando com O Cão dos Baskerville, meu xodó.

🧡| Crônicas Lunares - Marissa Meyer (+14)

São 4 livros (Cinder, Scarlet, Cress e Winter) e mais dois extras (Stars Above e Levana). Esse daqui vc n encontra no shopping, mas tem na Biblion kkkkk

E qm ama releituras de contos de fadas mas tbm curte ficção científica vai AMAR as Crônicas Lunares!

Como disse na "descrição", o primeiro é Cinder, que conta a história da melhor mecânica de Nova Pequim: Cinder, uma garota ciborgue de 16 anos, que recebe uma visita inesperada em sua loja ~ dizer quem é não é spoiler, até pq levando a história da Cinderela em conta fica bem óbvio, mas não vou tirar a magia da coisa.

🧡| Minha Vida Fora de Série - Paula Pimenta (+12)

São 5 livros (todos intitulados de MVFS, vc sabe a ordem pela temporada) e com o sexto a caminho!

Meu preferidinho, dono do meu coração e lar do meu crush literário supremo!

No primeiro volume (que inclusive é oq tem classificação +12), conhecemos a Priscila que tem 13 anos e acabou de se mudar para BH com a mãe. Além de lidar com o divórcio dos pais, a mudança de estado, a falta de seus bichinhos e suas novas amizades, agora também terá que encarar um novo amor.

• Trilogias

🧡| Amor & Livros - Jenna Evans Welch (+12/+13)

A ordem não importa muito, mas recomendo ler primeiro Amor & Gelato, depois Amor & Sorte e, por fim, Amor & Azeitonas.

Entre um passeio por Verona, Irlanda ou Grécia, qual você escolheria?

Acho que Amor&Azeitonas foi o único que não resenhei por aqui - achei legal, mas o pessoal faz parecer que ele é incrível e revolucionário -, mas eles são meio "independentes". As protagonistas até se conhecem mas não se encontram e é mais sobre a viagem/cenários, auto descoberta e romance msm. Tem uma vibe bem "Sessão da Tarde".

🧡| Renegados - Marissa Meyer (+14)

Primeiro, Renegados, depois Arqui-Inimigos e então, Supernova. Tbm tem na Biblion, pra qm quiser :)

Já notou que essas indicações tão sendo bem "para todos os gostos"? Kkkkkkk sair da minha zona de conforto literária facilita a vida de vcs tbm 🙃

Pra qm gosta de heróis e vilões, isso aqui é PERFEITO pra vc!

Nessa trilogia da Marissa Meyer, somos apresentados a um mundo cheio de reviravoltas onde ou você é um vilão ou um herói. E Nova Artino é uma vilã que quer acabar com os Renegados por não terem aparecido pra ela quando precisou.

Mas (talvez) um jovem renegado a faça mudar de ideia.

• Duologias

🧡| Pollyanna - Eleanor H. Potter (+10)

Pollyanna e Pollyanna Moça - vc tbm encontra eles facilmente nas feirinhas de livros do shopping e tbm é baratinho .

Pollyanna é uma garotinha loira que contagia a todos com sua alegria e o "Jogo do Contente", que foi ensinado a ela por seu falecido pai. Entretanto, sua tia Polly (com quem mora, já que é órfã) não parece muito animada com a presença da criança.

🧡| Alice - Lewis Carroll (+10)

Alice no País das Maravilhas e Alice Através do Espelho. N sei se tem no shopping, mas é bem provável e tem na Biblion tbm.

Aquela história clássica que todo mundo conhece: Alice cai na toca do coelho e vai parar no País das Maravilhas, um lugar bem maluco cheio de criaturas estranhas que até hoje vivem na nossa imaginação.

Enfim gnt, é isso, o post de hj ficou quilométrico kkkkkkk

Bjs e boas leituras <333

[thenewdeadseascrolls]

Judges 10: 15-18. "Getting Laid."

Yah was not too pleased with the Israelites for allowing themselves to be mounted. He tells them to fuck off. Then the Israelites cry out again and Yah, swollen with grief, agrees to help them. War between the Israelites and the Ammonites, persons who have habituated apostasy and turned it into a way of life begins.

The Israelites begin staging in what is called Mizpah, "the watchtower of hidden hopes."

Verb צפה (sapa) speaks of covering, whether a literal covering of an item with an overlay like gold or the figurative covering of watchman's surroundings by his watchful gaze. In cognate languages this verb also means to hope.

Noun צפיה (sippiya) means lookout post and noun מצפה (mispeh) means watchtower. Noun צפוי (sippuy) means plating, noun צפית (sapit) means rug or carpet, and noun צפת (sepet) refers to the plated capital of a pillar.

Verb צוף (sup) means to flow or float on top of something else. Noun צוף (sup) describes a honeycomb, or rather the structure of hexagonal cells upon which honey floats. Verb צפה (sapa) means outflow.

Verb צפן (sapan) means to hide or store up. Nouns צפין (sapin) and מצפון (maspon) describe a mass of predominantly static wealth. Noun צפון (sapon) means north, as for unexplained reasons the Bible considers the north a place of gathering. Noun or adjective צפוני (seponi) means northern or northern one.

Verb שפן (shapan) isn't used in the Bible but in cognate languages it means to hide. 

The expression of this hope is called Gilead, "the fountain of testimony." Jewish people have primary knowledge of how to read the Torah and speak directly to God and the angels through the oracular system called the Numbers in English. It is indisuptable.

The following Four Directions explain how Gilead this underground water source is the key to surviving war on the surface of this world and achieving victory over the forces of tyranny and darkness:

15 But the Israelites said to the Lord, “We have sinned. Do with us whatever you think best, but please rescue us now.” 

16 Then they got rid of the foreign gods among them and served the Lord. And he could bear Israel’s misery no longer.

17 When the Ammonites were called to arms and camped in Gilead, the Israelites assembled and camped at Mizpah. 

18 The leaders of the people of Gilead said to each other, “Whoever will take the lead in attacking the Ammonites will be head over all who live in Gilead.” 

v. 15: Rescue us now. = Read the Shema Prayer.

The Value in Gematria is 9472, טדזב‎ ‎, tadzeb, "get laid."

Getting laid is a Tania "stipulation" for observing the Shabbos.

v. 16: Then they got rid of the foreign gods among them and served the Lord. The Value in Gematria is 4524, דהב‎‎ד‎, dhabd, "remember what it was like to be a slave?"

v. 17: When the Ammonites were called to arms and camped in Gilead, the Israelites assembled and camped at Mizpah. Fundamentalists must not camp in Gilead. Fundamentalists take slaves. They become truly Jewish or they must be forced out.

The Value in Gematria is 4684, דו‎חד‎ , "report!"

The Report is Ishmael, "I hear, I understand, I obey...I am not a slave. I am not the son of slaves, my son shall not be a slave."

v. 18: The leaders of the people of Gilead said to each other, “Whoever will take the lead in attacking the Ammonites will be head over all who live in Gilead.” The Value in Gematria is 8684, חו‎חד, "A single law."

Shabbos must be observed. There must be an end to the blood drinking and there must be an excess of peace and surplus of food:

"The root שבע (sb'; now spelled as שׂבע (sb') and pronounced with an s) means to be sated or satisfied with food. It's used literally for people who have (or don't have) enough to eat (Hosea 4:10) or drink (Amos 4:8), but also for the earth sated with rain (Proverbs 30:16), a sword drinking its fill with blood (Jeremiah 46:10).

Our verb is also used for fillers other than food: Harlotry (Ezekiel 16:28), plunder (Jeremiah 50:10), an observation (Isaiah 53:10), the goodness of God's house (Psalm 65:4), sons (Psalm 17:14). And also it may denote an excess: of honey (Proverbs 25:16), tossing (Job 7:4), poverty (Proverbs 28:19), shame (Habakkuk 2:16), and the list goes on."

Getting mounted like a beast of burden and getting laid are at odds with each other. Slaves get mounted, freedmen get laid.

[600shekels]

2 Chronicles 25: 1-4. "The Edge."

Joash "Grab the Power" is killed and Amaziah, "Getting Stronger" becomes the new king.

Amaziah King of Judah

25 Amaziah was twenty-five years old when he became king, and he reigned in Jerusalem twenty-nine years. His mother’s name was Jehoaddan; she was from Jerusalem. 

2 He did what was right in the eyes of the Lord, but not wholeheartedly. 

Amaziah=

��מץ

The verb אמץ ('ames) means to be or become strong. Nouns אמץ ('omes), אמצה ('amsa) and מאמץ (ma'amasa) mean strength or power. Adjectives אמוץ ('amos) and אמיץ ('ammis) mean strong or mighty.

Jehoaddan=

עדן

Root עדן ('eden) has to do with free exchange of broadly diverse information, services and goods — which is where wealth comes from, in the modern understanding of economy. Nouns עדן ('eden), עדנה ('edna) and מעדן (ma'adan) mean delight, finery or luxury. Adjective עדין ('adin) means delightful or luxurious. Verb עדן ('adan) means to luxuriate or to delight.

3 After the kingdom was firmly in his control, he executed the officials who had murdered his father the king. 

4 Yet he did not put their children to death, but acted in accordance with what is written in the Law, in the Book of Moses, where the Lord commanded: “Parents shall not be put to death for their children, nor children be put to death for their parents; each will die for their own sin.”[a]

Amaziah became the king like his predecessor after Seven Years. His 25 years of age have a Gematria of 2+5 or 7 years. The change in figures is due to the amount of time he reigned, for 29 years. 25 + 29= 54 years total which is the number of Parshiot in the Torah.

He quotes Moses and says personal responibility will be the rule of thumb in Israel, which is the overaching theme of the Torah.

Each year past Parsha 25, Tzav, "the Commands," the King apparently improves in his ability to run things including getting vengeance against his parents' killers in a very sensible way: By leaving Eden behind and finding his own way.

Before one can be wholehearted in the effort to move out, the Gematria for verse 1 says one must be Agazah, אגה‎‎זח‎''a person with intensely good feelings" Just as Moses was the day he led the people of Israel from Egypt:

And It Came To Pass That Moses Looked And Beheld The World Upon Which He Was Created And Moses Beheld The World And The Ends Thereof And All The Children Of Men Which Are And Which Were Created Of .

The value In Gematria Is 10848, which returns the word אאֶפֶסחד‎ח Aepsahdah, which means, "To transcend the smaller realm for the larger."

ספף

Root ספף (sapap) has to do with creating, marking or temporarily reaching through the border between two essentially distinct realms that nevertheless have a common origin; this border circles around the smaller of the two so that this smaller realm sits within the larger. It's the verb that describes any such formation from the palisade around a tribal territory to the fence around a single house, the skin of a person or even the cellular wall of a eukaryote.

Noun סף (sap) means threshold or sill (and is also the word for a kind of goblin or based bowl). Verb סוף (sup) means to come at an end. Noun סוף (sop) means end. Noun שפה (sapa) denotes the edge of things. Noun סופה (supa) describes a violent storm (perhaps a tornado, in form comparable to a goblin or based bowl).

Noun סוף (sup) refers to reed, which grows at, and thus marks the border between water and dry land. From reed comes papyrus, and books mark the border between the howling outer dark and the enlightened space within. The industrial production of papyrus, of course, was an absolute marvel and a milestone in information technology (easily comparable with the invention of floppies and disk drives in our age).

Verb ספה (sapa) means to sweep away (across the threshold, out the door) and so does verb שפה (shapa). The latter may also mean to skim, to shave or to border-mark by means of a protruding beacon or mark. From the latter comes the verb שפת (shapat), which describes some kind of setting or placing just outside the realm of civilization, and that usually by means of a ring of conspicuous, guiding and protecting fires. Proverbially, both the contagious and the extremely poor, and of course the shepherds, their flocks and wild animals abided on the dark side of these fires. The latter verb also yields noun שפי (shepi), which describes bones sticking through the skin of an emaciated man, or hills that likewise conspicuously mark some border, presumably in an otherwise flat landscape.

Verb שוף (shup) appears to mean to violate in the sense of illicitly entering one's personal space (or body). This verb became associated with the bite of a snake, and the noun שפיפן (shepipon) denotes some sort of snake, presumably one that attacks by darting from its burrow and then swiftly retreating.

The new King of Israel, Amaziah, embodies everything one needs in order to capitalize on a society that has given up on apartheid, has resurrected its value system from the past, and perform the Fellowship Offering, AKA kindness, the "edge" between fellowship and personal freedom.

[imperium-wealth-management]

Watch "Confirmatory factor analysis in AMOS | Part 1" on YouTube

Update portfolio spinoff for private company s

Four core two sup for em frontier types.

[amarulha]

Dez coisas nada aleatórias

Eu adoro essas trends de falar sobre si, porque a gente descobre um bocado sobre amigos, pessoas próximas e conhecidos — e, claro, sobre nós mesmos.

Essa, das “10 coisas aleatórias que eu gosto”, gerou um certo bafafá devido à palavra “aleatórias”, já que “dizer que gosta dos seus amigos, do seu cachorro etc. NÃO é aleatório”. Ou é?

Talvez seja porque não há um enunciado claro e limitante nessas correntes de Instagram, mas é importante lembrar que aleatório não significa incomum; esse é um uso recente da palavra, aceito porque, afinal de contas, a língua é viva e todo dia a gente aprende mais um jeito de passar vergonha entre os jovens. O uso original de “aleatório” é para indicar “ao acaso” — por extensão, algo sem planejamento ou método. E se não tem método, é natural que as pessoas digam a primeira coisa que vem à cabeça, que em geral é algo totalmente sem graça e previsível.

Como eu não gosto de incorrer em obviedades, decidi listar dez coisas, se não incomuns, pelo menos bem específicas que eu curto, mas selecionadas com método, por categorias, e, por isso, nada aleatórias.

narrativas de velha

Eu amo narrativas de mulheres velhas; se loucas, melhor ainda. A velhice é a nossa condição futura (ou presente) inescapável. A velhice como mulher, então, é simplesmente o meu destino, não tem o que fazer. E não existe demografia mais odiada, temida, desdenhada do que a da véia. Tem até aquela esquete de humor que envelheceu como o leite: “prefiro que meu filho seja viado do que seja velha”. A questão é que a mulher velha não existe para usufruto alheio (no imaginário medíocre): ela não dá filhos (teoricamente), não oferece a estética da juventude e, acima de tudo, ela está 100% nem aí para o que dizem ou esperam dela. O tempo está acabando, e a velha passou boa parte dele tendo que performar para uma audiência que a odiaria independentemente de sua atuação, então agora ela decidiu chutar o pau da barraca e ir viver. Esse tipo de narrativa é libertador porque nos mostra que a vida continua — inclusive sexual e afetivamente — muito depois do que determinam como nosso “prazo de validade”, e ainda tem chance de se tornar mais divertida e satisfatória, sem o peso da expectativa de “ser mulher”.

iridescência

Já falei sobre isso diversas vezes na vida, mas adoro objetos com aquele brilho de bolha de sabão, de madrepérola, de pedra furta-cor, que comercialmente ficou conhecido como “holo(gráfico)”. É a cor que não é uma cor, são diversas, conforme a luminosidade.

textura de um tecido mais áspero sob um tecido mais fino e liso

Essa é meio difícil de explicar, mas pense num casaco com forro. A parte interna costuma ter pontos com nós, sendo mais áspera e irregular, enquanto o tecido de revestimento do forro às vezes é feito com um poliéster fininho e macio, que permite que a gente sinta a aspereza do tecido de modo filtrado.

apertar uma bucha de banho carregada de sabão e água quentinha na base da nuca durante o banho

Eu não vou elaborar uma longa e complexa reflexão sobre depressão e banhos quentes, mas a sensação da água escorrendo pelas costas é terapêutica e incomparável.

ver uma pessoa usando (ou saber que uma pessoa usa bastante) um presente que eu dei

Olha, eu até gosto de ganhar presentes, mas, no geral, as coisas que eu realmente quero, acabo sempre me adiantando e comprando por conta própria — até porque muitas vezes não é nem o desejo pelo objeto em si, mas o processo de escolher, pagar, receber e descobrir um canto para guardar o item. Agora, achar um objeto que eu SEI que a outra pessoa gostaria de ganhar, que é a cara dela, e não apenas um presente genérico comprado por convenção… isso, sim, me enche de satisfação. Por outro lado, nem sempre consigo pensar no presente perfeito, o que me deixa bem frustrada.

o canto do anu-branco

Um grande salve ao Wiki Aves, que possibilitou a minha investigação de um som com um quê de infância. Pra quem não sabe, o anu-branco é um pássaro que se expressa num tom superdramático: ele começa o discurso estridente, mas suas palavras vão ficando progressivamente mais curtas, mais graves e mais roucas, até se tornarem pouco mais do que um resmungo. Ai, eu te entendo, passarinho… Era um lamento que eu ouvia com frequência quando criança, mas não fazia a mínima ideia do nome nem sequer da aparência do bichinho choroso. Minha salvação foi o Wiki Aves porque esse é um site que registra pássaros do nosso país com sons, imagens e informações de região. Limitando a região e eliminando espécies de canto conhecido, pude descobrir a identidade desse grande artista canoro.

cheiro de manteiga derretida

Aqui eu vou ser bem básica, sim. Ciente de que se essa lista dependesse de escolhas incomuns pra ser “aleatória”, eu já estaria desclassificada. Na verdade, pensei em vários aromas que eu considero agradáveis: jasmim-manga, cheiro da folha do tomateiro, aromas amadeirados ou florientais ambarados/amadeirados… Só que cheiro de comida é a primeira coisa que me veio à cabeça, então decidi ser fiel ao meu inconsciente. Cheirinho de manteiga é ótimo. Lavar utensílios utilizados para preparar comidas com manteiga derretida, por outro lado, é bem desanimador.

o mar à noite

Podia ter colocado só o mar, mas quis ser diferentona. Deixa eu explicar: o mar, por si só, é bonito, misterioso, cativante… mas o mar à noite, a distância? O som do vaivém das ondas no escuro? É inicialmente aterrorizante. Se ele se levantasse e saísse caminhando por aí, eu não me espantaria. Bom, ficaria paralisada de medo, mas não acharia inesperado. A questão pra mim é esta: o terror cósmico que o oceano inspira na gente… eu entendo. Porém, a consciência de pequenez e incompreensão diante dum abismo cheio formas de vidas diversas, coloridas, camufladas, gigantescas, minúsculas, brutais, serenas — um abismo do qual a gente só enxerga a película da superfície —, e ainda por cima velado por um período de escuridão desnorteante que é a noite… sinceramente? Acho mais libertador do que opressivo. E quando os olhos se acostumam com a luminosidade débil, eu sinto uma paz absurda.

café da manhã

Teve um tempo na minha vida que eu não tomava café da manhã, pois pessoa notívaga. Hoje em dia, não importa o horário no qual eu acorde: a primeira refeição sempre será um café da manhã. Não é o horário, é a cerimônia, a comida. Café com leite, pão e tudo mais. Café da manhã de hotel, então, é um luxo! Eu acordo no horário que for necessário só pra ele. É uma das melhores partes de qualquer viagem, nem que eu volte para a cama em seguida. Mas mesmo quando não é o de hotel, sinto que tem algo de especial em manter um pequeno ritual de despertar que envolva comida frugal e uma caneca de café quentinho.

achar uma nota de dinheiro grande num lugar inesperado

A verdadeira “coisa aleatória” desta lista. Mas quem não gosta?

[fjsenters]

DECEMBER 15, 2022 - Are We Shutting God Out?

DECEMBER 15, 2022 – Are We Shutting God Out?

  Are We Shutting God Out? DECEMBER 15, 2022Daily Reading – Amos 4-6 / Revelation 3 WHAT GOD HAS SAID: Revelation 3:20 Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me. WHAT I HAVE SEEN:     Many have read today’s verse as God knocking at the heart door of the lost soul. While it is true, He does…

[aricastmblr]

[myriadraws]

4/4

Gale Tidebringer and Splash belong to user honeyhalo.

Sup, Amo and Dex belong to user taxthief.

Kip, Roru and Domi belong to user Moonkit60633.

[under-the-cherrytree]

Hey!I have a new idea bro :)

the bathroom kid and the hot blonde meet a person who is literally weird, you know?

They always draw weird things, have weird thoughts and have no idea in everything they do and say ,but deep down they just want to be loved and this weird way is their way of expressing themselves?

And the boys just want to help them make friends but the way they do it is like, "I bought a two-headed doll for Nene/Kou/Aoi! Will they want to be friends with me?" or "I cooked a strawberry muffin with a cute demon design, will they like it?"

THANK YU TE AMO ♥️🛐

Hanako and Teru with a weird/unique s/o❣︎

Warning: none that I can think of

A/n: SUP BRO!!! LOVE YOU TOOOO

I'M GLAD TO BE BACK, I MISSED YALL! I FORGOT WHAT TO WRITE ON THESE THINGS-

LOVE TO REQUEST

Hope this is what you wanted!

If not feel free to slap me-

He kept his eye on you

He would watch the way you socialize with everyone which only made him more interested in you himself

He would wonder why you did some of the stuff you did

Basically say all your thoughts out loud

Talked about the weirdest and goriest things with a straight face

It slightly confused Teru

He was even wondering if you were a supernatural for a while

And you would talk about how you would want all the friends in the world and to be loved

And that touched Teru

That’s when he put things together

You are just being you, expressing your inner weirdness

And you know what

He loved that

He loved that fact that you didn’t act all perfect around him like other people did

He loved that you were quirky

It made him feel like he didn’t need to be perfect as well

And you were unreadable always keeping him on his toes

Like whenever you would do something with no regard with what will happen in the future

He would try his best to help you make friends

And surprisingly people are attracted to you because you hang out with Teru so of course his fangirls want to know you

If anyone dare talks bad about you expect Teru to intervene

He isn’t happy when people think badly of you about the way you express yourself

You are the most real person he knows

And he cherishes you deeply

“Class, we have a new student today… this is y/n l/n.” The teacher introduced you as you stepped up and bowed to the class.

“Hello! You can call me y/n! Should I say something? I should probably say something… well I like to sketch and bake! Oooo speaking about baking I should bake you guys cupcakes tomorrow! That would be yummy!” You ranted as your class shot you concerning gazes.

“Anyways…” The teacher cut you off before you could continue “Minamoto, can you show her around after class?” A boy with bright ocean eyes stood up. He smiled as soon as he made eye contact with you and you couldn’t help but blush at his looks alone.

“Of course, I would be happy to show the new student around!” The boy said with a closed eyed smile.

“Alright, you can go sit next to Minamoto.” The teacher looked at you and you nodded. You made your way to the back of the classroom and sat at a combined desk with Mr. Minamoto. It shocked you that no one else was sitting here already.

“Hello! I’m Teru Minamoto, the student council president. It’s a pleasure to meet you l/n.” He said.

“I’m Y/n L/n, well you already knew that from what I said earlier. I hope we can be friends!” You smiled.

“Of course! And you sound like you make good cupcakes, I really can’t cook...” The blond chuckled.

“Yeah I do! I even like making a nice demon or monster design on them!”

Memories of that random lunch monster lunch pop in his head making him shiver. (The one Yashiro made him in episode one)

“Yeah… maybe no monster design kay?”

Hanako definitely knew you were weird from the beginning

But the fact you were weird only made him want to hang out with you more

I mean... your weird

He’s a ghost

You two are perfect for each other

He began to pick up that this is the way you express yourself

Doesn't think any less of you because of it

Of course, other people could be different

If anyone spoke bad about you he would want to hurt them

But because he’s a ghost he would just send them glares that only you can see

He would help you make as many friends as you can

He would tell you about Yashiro and Kou and say you should meet them

Of course you have to make a good first impression!

“Hanako look! I made a two headed doll for Yashiro! Do you think she will like it..?”

Hanako didn’t want to hurt your feelings but he knew that doll would most likely scare Yashiro…

“Uhm… perhaps… but I really want the doll and will take it and you can get Yashiro something else…”

“I can make another doll-”

“NO THAT FINE-! Heehee… we can make cookies to give to her when you meet her. How about that?”

Proud Hanako

If he sees Yashiro and Kou getting weirded out by you he would pull them aside to talk

He would explain that that’s is your unique way of expressing yourself

He would want the to try to understand you the best they can

He would never want to tell you your weirdness is... weird to others

First, he wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings

Second, he actually thinks it’s quite interesting so he doesn't mind it at all!

He finds it interesting to hear your weird thoughts randomly and how you talk to him even in class

It make him happy

You two are just honestly perfect for each other!

“Hanako-san, Hanako-san, are you there?” You called out as you looked around the bathroom. The ghost boy smirked as he put his hand on the other side of the stall door.

“Hello~” His voice echoed around the bathroom.

“Grandma?! Is that you?” You said stopping Hanako in his tracks.

He opened the bathroom door causing you to yelp.

“It’s not grandma, it's a boy in the girls bathroom!” You yelled pointing to him. He couldn’t help but laugh.

“Your grandma?” He asked, wiping the invisible tears from his eyes. “You know I’m number 7 of the 7 mysteries, right?”

“Mysteries..? No...” You said and he looked at you confused.

“You don’t know the mysteries yet you summoned me..?” You nodded at his question and he sighed. He put his hand on his hat as he sat on the toilet.

“Well you don’t know about mysteries huh? Looks like I need to keep you around hm~?”

[cottoncandyjester]

protective sully?? yES PLEASE 😫😫

Sully is very protective ✨ his partner is royalty and no one messes with his royalty

Warning this contains: slight yandere behavior, violence, sully being a simp

Translation: Ti amo tanto= I love you so much

Brutto figlio di puttana bastardo= bastard son of a bitch

Vai all’inferno= go to hell

Amore mio= my love

Sully was usually a cheerful and happy person, his smile never leaving when he’s with you. He’s always wanting to spoil you in anyway he can from buying you expensive gifts to the overload of affection, you are his everything.

Sully had took you shopping, anything you showed mere interest in he was offering to get for you. “Sully, you don’t have to spend money on me” you cooed out as you held his hand, the simple act only making him smile brighter “how could I not? You deserve to bask in glory! Your beauty and charm rival the stars..no the sun itself, you are my shining sun!” He chimed out, eyes filled with so much love you swore he was going to explode.

“You’re so cute, I swear. Come on let’s grab food before you see something else you wanna get me” you teased, guiding him to the food court, not noticing the shining look in his eyes as he followed you along “Ti amo tanto..” he mumbled out softly.

Once at the food court you both decided on getting something sweet, so while you went to find a table he skipped off promising to get you something worthy of your tastebuds. It took two minutes for your table to be full of strangers

“Sup. You don’t mind if we sit with you yeah?” One of the guys said with a grin, his cocky smile making you cringe. “My boyfriend is gonna be sitting with me” you said softly only cringing more as the strangers moved closer.

“ come on just let us hang for a bit”

“Yeah we are just trying to keep you company”

Your nervousness turned into fear as one of the men reached out to touch you, but sully who appeared beside you grabbed their wrist, he gave you a shining smile as he placed a tray in front of you “did you wait too long? I’m sorry, if I could I would make it so we are the only two here” he cooed out before his eyes trailed to the strangers who looked surprised, sully had a look of disgust and hate burning in his eyes

“Do you know how valuable this person is? They rival the gods themselves..and you thought it was okay to touch them. Maybe you’re just stupid? I take pity on idiots..” sully spoke in a low tone, accent much thicker as he pushed the male back “i suggest you run, though maybe you’re too stupid to do that”

“You’re gonna let this pretty boy talk to you like that?”

“Yeah man kick his ass”

The next few moments were a blur, the drama escalated and a minute later sully had a small scratch on his cheek, he looked downright bloodthirsty after that.

“Brutto figlio di puttana bastardo!” Sully snapped as he digged the blade into the male’s side “Vai all’inferno..” he sneers out before he flinched, realizing what he was doing and pulled the blade out “run..” he said softly, watching the male stumble away in pure fear. Sully whined as he looked at his clothes soiled with blood before he turned towards you.

“I’m so sorry you had to see such a thing, do you hate me now?” He said in a panicked tone before he dropped to his knees infront of you “I’m so sorry, I lost my temper. Did I scare you? Oh my love, I was so scared that you would get hurt..I saw red” he purred out as he hugged you close nuzzling his head against your stomach

“How about I cook for you at home? Anything you want? I want you to myself..” he said sweetly with a smile before he shot up now wiping his hands of blood before grabbing your hands and pressing kisses along your hands his gaze nothing short but utter love.

“I would do anything for you, Amore mio”

[dcligadossuperpetsveronline]

DC Liga de Supermascotas ver pelicula online completas + descargar gratis

Ver - https://dc-liga-de-supermascotas.blogspot.com/

Krypto, el perro, es el mejor amigo de Superman y posee los mismos poderes extraterrestres que su amo. Juntos lucharán valientemente contra el crimen en Metrópolis. Pero cuando Superman y otros miembros de la Liga de la Justicia son secuestrados por villanos desconocidos, Krypto debe entrenar a nuevos ayudantes, a saber, un grupo variopinto de animales de un refugio que de repente han ganado superpoderes. ¿Puede la peluda League of Super Pets salvar a Superman y al mundo entero en el camino?

Una película animada de alto concepto sobre animales con superpoderes cobra vida vibrante y entrañable gracias a los superpoderes detrás de escena: el talento de voz animado de un elenco de estrellas, un guión que es inteligente, emocionante y muy divertido y, sobre todo , la capacidad de aprovechar una de las emociones más profundas de la humanidad, nuestro amor por nuestras mascotas y el de ellas por nosotros. La comedia con demasiada frecuencia proviene de un lugar de escepticismo, oposición o ironía. Pero aquí, los momentos más divertidos provienen de una profunda comprensión y afecto por los cómics. De acuerdo, tal vez haya algo de sarcasmo en el chiste sobre el jazz suave. Pero cuanto más te guste el mundo de los superhéroes, más apreciarás ver a Superman lanzar a su mascota, Krypto, un juguete chirriante con forma de Batman. Y lo apreciarán aún más cuando mi nuevo Batman favorito, con la voz de Keanu Reeves, comenta sombríamente (por supuesto): "Espero que ese juguete tenga licencia". Puede tomar una segunda visualización captar algunos de los detalles más pequeños, como el sol rojo de Krypton y la referencia a la necesidad de que alguien diga su nombre al revés. Asegúrate de quedarte hasta el final de los créditos para una broma interna más de DC Comics con el hombre detrás de la voz de Krypto, Dwayne Johnson.

Krypto y Superman (John Krasinski) han sido mejores amigos desde que los kryptonianos Jor-El y Lara metieron al pequeño Kal-El en una nave espacial mientras su planeta estaba explotando y el cachorro Krypto saltó en el último minuto para hacerle compañía al futuro Clark Kent/Superboy. . En la actualidad, trabajan en equipo para mantener a todos a salvo de los malos, tanto de la Tierra como de otros planetas. A Krypto le encanta ser el mejor amigo de Superman incluso más de lo que le gusta salvar el mundo. Eso es hasta que Superman comienza a pasar mucho tiempo con su novia, la intrépida reportera Lois Lane (Olivia Wilde). Y luego, un supervillano muy poderoso usa Kryptonita verde para quitarle los poderes a Superman y lo mantiene cautivo a él y al resto de la Liga de la Justicia.

A menudo he dicho que las películas de superhéroes deben juzgarse por sus malos, y el de esta historia es un lulu. Literalmente. Pero retrocedamos un poco. Superman está preocupado por descuidar a Krypto mientras se prepara para proponerle matrimonio a Lois, por lo que lo lleva a un refugio de animales para ver si puede encontrar un amigo. Este es un desafío ya que Krypto realmente no sabe cómo hablar con los animales que no son súper (los padres apreciarán la broma de Steve Buscemi sobre los "compañeros niños").

El refugio tiene una gran variedad: PB, un cerdo dulce (Vanessa Bayer), Merton, una tortuga amorosa pero miope (Natasha Lyonne), Chip, una ardilla nerviosa (Diego Luna), Ace, un perro malhumorado (Kevin Hart) y… Lulu, un conejillo de Indias sin pelo (Kate McKinnon) que alguna vez fue un animal de laboratorio para nada menos que el malo multimillonario Lex Luthor (Marc Maron).

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