#Growing Pains: TOV

[magicmetslogic]

Oh, also

Growing Pains Sequel Fic Be Upon Ye!

So THIS fic is set after @skywardheroine and I's OTHER fic called Growing Pains, which was all about Raven and Karol addressing their familial feelings over the course of an action-packed, joke filled adventure through a monster cave system!

In THIS fic, however, they've since been established as a family and now they're enjoying their life together! They're finishing up a pirate adventure with patty together! They're having a great time!

And then Raven gets pneumonia. Yeah, sick-fic time.

Anyway, enjoy!

[imperfectnothing]

SPECIMEN LOG: 001247

It's all over. Cirrus won. Tov survived in some kind of fucked up, crazy miracle that makes her eyes dart around the room whenever it's brought up, her smile all that more forced whenever she answers a question on her hard-fought survival. She's never been a fighter, which is what makes it sting all the more, a bitter taste left on the tongue when that rage flashes in her eyes and she takes someone to task with the blade of her tongue. Dian and Tov are running interference as they pretend to date and get an excuse to have sanctioned time to spend together, talking shit and laughing when they can manage, both of them having lost some of the luster in their smiles.

It all should be over and yet time passes on, ever quicker, ever slower. Delicate hands and flashes of black and white haunt Nyx's dreams, flames burning skin and hair and bone, the air sticky sweet with smoke. Auburn curls spilling into bright amber eyes, a weary smile in an attempt to reassure as blood bubbles and dribbles down pale lips. Fear in aquamarine eyes as she pushes back a lacy veil, unable to fully grapple with what she's just done, who she's just killed. How she ran away and started over, finding a child and building a home up around them. How she went missing and the body could never be found save for a blood splatter on the floor of the apartment she once lived in. In a room that he has come to know, a ceiling that he has practically memorized and a bed that he calls his own, Nyx should not wake up panting, his heart pounding in his chest, scream already spilled from cracked lips. Yet, he continues trudging onward, ignoring the ghosts whose hands linger on his shoulders as best as he can.

Grief is unbecoming, no matter how heavy it weighs. Nyx has long gotten over any delusions that he needs to be emotionally stable, that he needs to be everyone else's anchor, but to linger so much on past, what has already been said and done, what can never be changed, it's stupid and he knows it. After all, season forty has just begun and already the first round is over, second underway. The first loser disappeared into the night sky in a mess of blood and shrieking pain. The first winner disappeared much the same, making a bit of a lose-lose for the Alien Stage committee.

Not as if they really care, though.

It's not as if Nyx has the time to care all that much, either. Save for the pit of fear in his stomach, growing ever deeper with every second closer they get to the third round, to the round where his beloved sunrise will finally face the music, he is all but solely focused on the present moment.

Solei is dying.

It's been happening for a long time, or at least, it doesn't seem new. Building up inside of them and breaking down the chimerical, painful form that Solei was given against their will by their bastard of an owner, their own body fighting against itself and the aberration of their avian adaptations, the feathers growing through the skin and the pores that they sprout from bleeding, their arms scaling over just like the hard, protective skin of their talons, making their hands all the more shaky. The shadows around their eyes have been deepening for months and at the start, Nyx just thought they were sleeping poorly, haunted too by the nightmares at plague even his waking moments. After about a week or so, he realized the truth, having caught them in the middle of a coughing fit where blood stained their lips and a dullness glazed over their eyes.

That was months ago, and now they have been confined to their nest, IV stuck into their arm and a respirator over their mouth, breathing for them as their eyelashes flutter, relegated to a cycle of a waking and an oblivion that are so similar that one could not tell them apart. Aurien is desperate for a solution, a cure, anything, to save her partner who she has already lost once and who she has resolved not to lose again. She spends nights here, by Solei's side, and days out and about, trying to find answers to a problem that Nyx doubts has any. Maybe he's just become jaded, cynical, after his brushes with death but he knows that Solei shares his opinion, that there is nothing to do, that they cannot be saved, which is a little bit of solace in the coldness of the night.

It's a horrible, acidic thing to even think, nonetheless swallow. He should have faith in them, one of his closest friends who has already cheated death once. He should have faith, he knows, but he has known other who have cheated death, and he knows what happened after they flew too close to the sun.

They fell to the sea, and they drowned.

-

struck by inspiration out of the blue (thank you @sotogalmo for striking me with that inspiration!! you're so lovely <3) uhh yeah i will. write more soon. write something for asayumi round 3 (i am in fear!!) but uh yes nyx angst because he's still not over it and also solei . . . solei isn't gonna last much longer.

tagging @lookatmysillies for the mention of Castor, @junebluues for Vera (and implied Sirius), tagging @ivanttakethis for Tov, tagging @solei-eclipse for Solei, and @apriciticreveries for Asahi & Aurien! I would tag Plip too but I'll leave whether or not they read this as up to them. he already knows how fucked up i am about lang's death lmao

[ivanttakethis]

End of Round 13 - Tov’s Log

Jae (64) vs. Vii (35) - Jae Win

————————————————————

Wren found Tov again that night.

Round 13 had just finished.

64 - 35

Jae won decisively.

Vii was dead.

The guards allowed both classes to mingle during free time in the hour prior to curfew.

Most people chose to stay inside. Tov and a few others ventured out into the fields.

At night, the simulated daytime of the Anakt Garden dome was switched off, allowing those inside to see the true night sky above.

The stars seemed further away somehow, but they were no less beautiful.

It was a perfect night for stargazing.

Tov stayed close to the main buildings, tucked away around back, out of view of anyone passing by.

She knew the spot from childhood. It was a good place if you wanted to be alone for a while.

“There you are!”

At least it was…

Wren sat down in the grass beside her, crossing her legs and mirroring Tov’s position.

“I figured I would find you out here.”

Wren’s tone raised her hackles.

Tov furrowed her brows, turning to look at her, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Wren shrugged, but kept her eyes on the sky, unbothered by the slight edge in Tov’s voice. Her white hair seemed to glow in the moonlight. Even her roots were white.

“You seem to like the stars, and they’re awfully pretty tonight.” She said.

Tov couldn’t argue with that, so she didn’t.

“They are pretty.” She nodded, looking back up at the constellations hanging overhead.

The two were quiet for a moment, before Wren spoke again.

“What was it like performing on stage?”

Tov tried to think back to Round 10, but her mind drew a blank. She couldn’t recall much of anything.

Only fragments of that night remained scattered around the void in her memories.

The stars.

The heartache.

The first line of her song.

The gunshot.

The smell of blood.

The way Nyx hugged her like she was something fragile.

Everything else was gone.

“I don’t remember much.” She said quietly. It almost sounded like a confession. “I wasn’t really thinking about the stage, or the crowd, or the cameras.”

“Then what were you thinking about?” Wren asked, “That emotion in your voice didn’t come out of thin air.”

Tov’s eyes found Tallis’s constellation instinctively.

Was she really about to spill her sorrows to a stranger?

Regardless of how friendly Wren behaved, they didn’t know each other.

But… who else did she have in her life to talk to?

Cassio? No.

Nyx? He had enough on his plate preparing for his upcoming round.

Himei? Tov didn’t know if she would ever talk to her about this; about what she and Tallis said and did.

She’d already been isolated once because of all this grief they found themselves neck deep in.

Tov wasn’t going to add to that, or make things worse. It would just make the situation more confusing.

She briefly closed her eyes and sighed, “Did you watch Round 7?”

Wren nodded in her periphery. “Of course. I watch every round.”

How can you stomach it all?

Tov didn’t ask that thought aloud.

“The contestant that lost…”

“Tallis?”

She almost winced at the sound of his name. The wound was still too raw.

“Yeah… him.” Tov swallowed around the growing lump in her throat. “He… he meant a lot to me.”

Andromedas, why is this so painful?

“He was a friend of yours?”

She shook her head immediately, “No.”

The word “friend” was far too reductive to encompass everything that Tallis meant to Tov.

But how else could she describe their relationship?

Even with her face placidly neutral, Wren still managed to sense Tov’s internal frustration.

“Ah, more than a friend.” She mused. “Did you love him?”

“I did— I do.” Tov amended. Nyx’s words came back to her then.

“Just because he's gone doesn't mean he doesn't still love you.”

Guess that meant she didn’t have to stop loving him either.

“When I was singing, I was thinking about him.”

“I see.”

This time, the ensuing silence bordered on comfortable. Tov’s chest felt a bit lighter too. Maybe talking about it isn’t so bad.

“You named a star after him.” Wren said it like a statement, not a question. It startled Tov.

“How did you—” Her eyes snapped to the odd grey gaze staring back at her, expectant but already knowing.

“You keep looking at the same spot in the sky.” Wren explained. “You kept looking up at the stars when you performed too.”

Tov felt strangely exposed, like Wren could see through her skin and straight into her soul.

It was different from the way Tallis looked at her, though. But she couldn’t put a finger on why.

“It’s a constellation.” She conceded, finally.

Wren smiled a little, almost giddy, “Ooh which is it? Wait, wait, wait— let me guess!” She scanned the stars intently and her brow furrowed in concentration.

It made her look much younger than she probably was.

How old is Wren anyway?

She pointed upwards with one eye closed for accuracy, “Is it that one there? The one shaped like a cresting wave?”

“No, that one’s for Azure.” Tov said.

“That guy from Round 1? With the sea green eyes?”

Something about Wren’s description of Azure made Tov huff out a chuckle.

“That’s him,” She nodded. “The song he performed was called Nouvelle Vague, ‘new wave’. I thought it was fitting to name a wave shaped constellation after him.”

“It fits him well.” Wren nodded, then pointed to another constellation nearby, “What about the one that looks kind of like a thought bubble?”

“That’s Moran’s.” Tov said.

“Ah, the redhead from Round 2!”

“Yes, she was a good friend of mine. A great friend, really. She taught me a lot about philosophy; always thinking.”

Tov took over from there, pointing out each constellation she’d named after those she cared for.

Stasya. Minori. Flor. Even Min.

Min protected Himei when she didn’t have to. She was the only reason her closest friend was still alive.

For that alone, Tov cared about Min too.

“That one,” She said finally, pointing to the cluster of constellations in the shape of a harp, “That one is for Tallis.”

“I believe in you.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

For once, Wren quieted first.

Tov felt her eyes on her, but she didn’t break the silence; content to simply look at stars.

It still hurt. But it was better than the numbness from before.

“You know…” Wren started, “You look at everyone else’s constellations the same way you look at Tallis’s.”

Really?

“Really.” Wren said.

She paused for a moment. Then two.

“If you ask me, it seems like you loved all of them.” Wren murmured.

At that moment, something in Tov’s heart clicked into place. A gentle warmth unfurled inside her rib cage.

Oh.

Oh.

Maybe… maybe I do…

The realization brought tears to Tov’s eyes. Her heart ached in a new, novel way.

Bittersweet. Melancholy.

It made her laugh for some reason. She hadn’t laughed in a long time.

As she stared up at the celestial memorials of everyone she’d lost, Tov found herself smiling ever so slightly.

What a terrible time to realize it was all love.

————————————————————

We love sisterly bonding, even if one of them doesn’t know it yet 😌

Plus a little feelings realization and healing, as a treat!

Tov has a lot of love for others, even if she doesn’t think she does. Only now is she beginning to realize how deeply her relationships have affected her as a person.

Tov’s current thoughts about Wren are like: “this girl is kinda weirdly friendly, and there’s something odd about her aura, but I would rather die than talk to anyone else in my life about my problems, so I will continue to trauma dump on her since she’s cool with it”

My girl probably needs a therapist, but we don’t have time for that lmao

Next up: End of Round 16!!

Jae belongs to @kofeedoggo.

Min and Vii belong to @starry-skiez.

Nyx belongs to @rockwgooglyeyes.

Tallis and Himei belong to @lookatmysillies.

Azure belongs to @azureitri.

Moran belongs to @geospiral.

Stasya belongs to @billwasnot.

Minori belongs to @minori-dash.

Flor belongs to @sotogalmo.

[laineystein]

A bit of a nighttime rant/blog thing because I’m leaving soon and can’t sleep (though that has nothing to do with the fact that im leaving soon — I typically can’t sleep as most of you know by now)

I spent a lot of the day in our little shul here. I’ve come to really love being one of the only women on base and I’m definitely one of the only frum female soldiers…if not *the* only one. But it’s nice because it’s so quiet and it’s like existing in your own shul and it was just me and Hashem chatting for almost two hours. Then I prayed for our hostages and our chayalim. And then I cried. Which I’ve done a lot lately. But it was like therapy and I was so grateful to have it! When we leave I will be in a place with no privacy and no quiet. I’m really trying to cherish it.

When I finally emerged to eat I ran into a soldier I actually met recently. He’s 19 (a baby!!!) and a lone soldier. He’s the sweetest young man and I adore him. And he told his Ima that he feels safe with me around and I’ve spoken to her on the phone so now I feel extra responsible for his wellbeing. Anyway! We went for a run after dinner and we talked about a friend we lost last week. Then we talked about the other “friends” we’ve lost; the ones that have chosen to turn a blind eye and push us away while our tribe is going through the most painful thing a group can experience. It’s a different kind of trauma, to grieve the living. I genuinely only had two goy friends before all of this and now I only have one. The other I have completely detached from and have no desire to ever speak with her again. When people show you who they are, believe them the first time. I’ve said it before but I have my tribe and my safety and happiness will always lie with the Jewish people and I’m so content with that. My lone soldier friend, however, (and rightfully so), is really struggling with this. He did not grow up in a Jewish neighborhood like I did. He was not born in Israel. Many of his friends are goy. And he is really struggling with them. And my heart breaks for him. Because I don’t know what to say to make him feel better. Because what I want to say is to forget them and focus on the love of the Jewish community. But I know that’s not as easy for everyone as it is for me. And I just wish there was more I could give him. So if anyone has any words of wisdom I will happily share it with him!

Then I spent the rest of my night checking out supplies and packing my kit while on the phone with my husband. Which took me far too long because I kept getting distracted which has been happening a lot lately. Too many balls in the air, not enough hands to catch them all. But my bags are finally packed so I’m just waiting at this point. Which is the effing worst…hence why I’m currently shouting into the virtual abyss.

Did I mention that my husband might be fostering a dog while I’m gone? A dog that was found in the South was sent to a rescue in Tel Aviv and it had puppies and now my husband wants to foster one…and cited my physical absence in his life as being equivalent to missing the energy of a small hyper dog, hence the need. So I’ll probably be going home to a dog because my husband is the most laidback individual that is not at all affected by anything and will excel at canine fatherhood the way he excels at everything else in life. Standby for updates on this disaster.

Anyway.

How’s everyone else doing? Anyone have any good news? How’s the diaspora? Everyone okay out there? I worry about y’all. People have lost their damn minds. Just a reminder you can apply for aliyah anytime you want. We’d love to have you 💙

Tov, going to attempt sleep I guess. Take care of yourselves, fam 🫶🏼

[mendelbluming]

Menachem Bluming Muses: Why Smash a Glass Under the Chupah

Question from a groom: 

I understand the reason we break a glass at a wedding ceremony is to commemorate the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem some 2000 years ago. This indeed was a significant event in Jewish history, but it doesn't seem to have any personal relevance to me. What does a destroyed building have to do with my wedding?

Here’s a Wedding/ Tisha B’Av thought:

The destruction of the Temple has extreme personal relevance. It happened to you. The shattering of the glass commemorates not only the fall of Jerusalem, but also a cataclysmic shattering that happened to your very own temple, your soul.

Before you were born, you and your soulmate were one - a single soul. Then, as your time to enter this world approached, G-d shattered that single soul into two parts, one male and one female. These two half souls were then born into the world to try and find each other and reunite.

At the time, the split seemed tragic. Half of your soul went missing. What was once a peaceful whole had become fragmented and incomplete. Why would G-d do that to you? If you and your soulmate were meant to be together, why didn't G-d leave you together?

Only when standing under the Chuppah do you find the answer to this question. At the wedding, these two halves are becoming whole, reuniting never to part again. And you can look back at the painful experience of being separated, and actually celebrate it. For now you realize that the separation brought you closer. Only by being torn apart, living lives away from each other, were you able to develop as individuals, mature and grow, and then come together in a true relationship, a deeper oneness than you had before, because it is created by your choice. Had you never been separated, you would never appreciate what it means to be together, because it wasn't earned. At the wedding you realize that your soul was only split in order to reunite and become one on a higher and deeper level than before.

And so we break a glass under the Chuppah, and we immediately say Mazel Tov. Because now, in retrospect, even the splitting of the souls is reason to be joyous, for it gave your connection depth and real meaning.

So you see, your personal story and the story of Jerusalem's destruction are inextricably linked. The shattering that happened to Jerusalem happened to your soul; and the joy you are experiencing now will one day be experienced by Jerusalem too.

The Temple was not a mere building, it was the meeting place of heaven and earth, ideal and reality, G-d and creation. When the Temple was lost, with it went the open relationship between G-d and the world. Our souls were ripped away from our Soulmate.

The only antidote to fragmentation is unity. And the deepest unity is experienced at a wedding. Every wedding is a healing, a mending of one fragmented soul, a rebuilding of Jerusalem in miniature. Our sages teach us, "Whoever celebrates with a bride and groom it is as if he rebuilt the ruins of Jerusalem." When soulmates reunite in holy marriage, an energy of love and oneness is generated, elevating the world and bringing it one step closer to mending its broken relationship with G-d.

And one day soon, when the Temple in Jerusalem is rebuilt, our souls will reunite with G-d, our Soulmate, in a true relationship that we built ourselves. We will no longer mourn the destruction, but looking back we will finally understand its purpose, and we will celebrate. Then, even the shattering will deserve a Mazel Tov.

Mendel (Menachem) Bluming and many other sources

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hey sex witch, this is a little bit of a gross question but i’ve googled this before and not gotten helpful results? so - i’m afab and sometimes when i masurbate, i feel like i feel? bumps that feel like pimples on/inside clitoral hood (i think). i alway just ignore since I’ve had them long time. but am nervous about them again cause might soon have sex for first time. is this normal? extra question, is nipples extremely hairy (need to pluck a ton) with lots of bumps normal? thank you!

hi anon,

first off, I've heard grosser. I've always heard grosser.

it sounds like what you're experiencing could be some kind of skin irritant, which is pretty common around the vulvar area.

they could be inflamed follicles caused by ingrown hairs, which is especially likely if you're in the habit of shaving your pubic area with a razor. there are also all kinds of things that can upset the relatively delicate skin in that area and make it a little bumpy or inflamed, with the primary suspects being excess sweat trapped in the area, wearing underwear that's too tight, using laundry products or personal hygiene products with harsh chemical scents, or douching (the practice of trying to "wash" your vagina by flushing it out with water. don't do that).

however! you mention that these bumps have been around for a long time, and I'd be interested to know if they're actually causing you any discomfort - itching, bleeding, aching, making your clitoris too sensitive too touch, etc. if not, they certainly might be a point of interest in your personal geography, but doesn't sound like they're causing any harm. some people are just built a little different, you know?

whether they're causing any physical discomfort or not - although this is a particularly good idea if they are - I'd recommend taking the time to go somewhere private, make sure the lighting is good, and using a small mirror or your phone's selfie mode to have a good gander at your vulva and see what you can see. feel around for those bumps and see if you can actually spot anything, particularly anything that looks like a pimple, blister, or point of inflammation. if you can, it may be time to start experimenting with trying looser cotton underwear for better ventilation, a laundry or body wash with less abrasive scents, etc, to see if that makes any positive change.

you mention being particularly self conscious about these little mystery bumps because you may be having partnered sex for the first time soon - so first off, mazel tov. it's normal to feel more aware of your body and anything that might seem unusual or strange about it when faced with the prospect of another person seeing it in an intimate context for the first time! but your partner is unlikely to be too concerned about how aesthetically pleasing your clitoris is - and if they are, please deposit them in the nearest trash receptacle!

if those little bumps cause any physical pain when touched, I would maybe be worried about that, but it doesn't sound like they historically have. if they're not a detriment to masturbation, they're unlikely to slow down partnered sex much.

last of all, hairy nipples! given that you were able to type and send this I'm almost 99.99% certain that you are a mammal and most likely a human, which means it's considered normal for you to have hair everywhere but your lips, the palms of your hands, and the soles of your feet. you're perfectly at liberty to remove it if you like, of course, but there's nothing concerning about that hair growing there.

bumps are also pretty typical, as long as they're not inflamed, painful, or growing rapidly. they're most likely just your Montgomery tubercles, oil glands that are more noticeable on some people than others.

[petrichoravellichor]

Title: A New Kind of Life

Wordcount: ~10k

Rating: T

Summary: What if, when Sam and Dean break into the Empty, Cas isn’t the only one they save? A post-15x19 fix-it fic in which Crowley gets a second shot at the redemption (and family) he deserves.

(Read on Ao3)

********************

Chapter 3 (of 5) (Ch. 1, Ch. 2., Chs. 4 & 5)

"When I suggested you take on the Mark of Cain, I didn't know this was going to happen. Not really. I mean, I might not have told you the entire truth. But I never lied. I never lied, Dean. That's important. It's fundamental. But...there is one story about Cain that I might have...forgotten to tell you. Apparently, he, too, was willing to accept death, rather than becoming the killer the Mark wanted him to be. So he took his own life with the blade. He died. Except, as rumor has it, the Mark never quite let go. You can understand why I never spoke of this. Why set hearts aflutter at mere speculation? It wasn't until you summoned me...no, it wasn't truly until you left that cheese burger uneaten...that I began to let myself believe. Maybe miracles do come true. Listen to me, Dean Winchester: what you're feeling right now—it's not death. It's life—a new kind of life. Open your eyes, Dean. See what I see. Feel what I feel. And let's go take a howl at that moon."

—Crowley to Dean, 09x23 "Do You Believe in Miracles?"

**********

The following evening, there’s a knock on his door. “Crowley? Hey, you in there?”

Crowley looks up from his book. He hasn’t spoken to Dean since that day in the war room, when they’d all returned from the Empty. From a tactical standpoint, it’s been very easy: all Crowley’s had to do is keep largely to his room during the day and save visits to any common spaces for the late night hours. This is the first time in a good long while Dean’s made it a point to seek him out alone, and it’s that more than anything that makes Crowley decide he actually wants to hear what Dean has to say.

Still, no point in making it easy on the bastard. “That depends,” Crowley calls back, aiming for nonchalance. “What have you brought me?”

“Ha ha. Open up, asshole,” says Dean, but the epithet contains about as much malice as the bitch he occasionally lobs at Sam. “We, uh. We need to talk.”

Crowley arches a brow; is it just him, or does Dean sound nervous? He sets his book aside and shifts to sit on the edge of his bed. “It’s open.”

Dean enters, and Crowley sees that he was right: Dean does indeed look nervous, perhaps even guilty. He nods sheepishly in Crowley’s direction as he closes the door behind him.

“Hey,” Dean says, smiling slightly, and the gesture stirs a painful kind of longing in Crowley’s gut. Looking at Dean has always felt to Crowley like reaching for something without knowing what it is he’s grasping at or why, the way a weed arches without thinking towards the sun. It’s maddening in a way Crowley doesn’t have words for, because he knows, in the way he supposes a weed does, that the light isn’t there for his benefit; experience has shown him that much.

And yet, for as much hurt and anger Crowley’s felt because of Dean, he’s also realized that he just...can’t find it in himself to hate Dean, not in any way that lasts. They’ve been through too much together, and maybe none of it mattered to Dean, but it matters to Crowley. He wishes it didn’t, but it does; it always has. And he can no more deny that than he can the sun.

But he can’t very well say all that to Dean, so he pushes his thoughts aside and schools his features into a neutral expression. “Hello, Dean,” he says evenly, rising to stand with his hands in his pockets. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Dean reaches up to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck. “You, uh. You settling in okay?”

Crowley snorts. “Surely you can do better than that. Go on, let’s have it.” He takes a step towards Dean and flashes a smirk. “I promise I won’t bite unless you ask me to.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well...That’s kinda what I came to talk to you about.” He gestures at the desk next to the bed. “Mind if I have a seat?”

Crowley shrugs. “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.” Dean walks over to the desk and turns to lean against it, not quite sitting but also not quite standing. Crowley stands next to the bed, waiting.

Eventually, Dean clears his throat. “So, uh. Cas said the two of you talked—”

He expects his words to get a rise out of Dean, to throw him off kilter so their conversation is easier to manage.

“Oh for the love of—Is that what this is about?” Crowley grumbles; just how much of their conversation had Castiel felt the need to share? “Allow me to save you some time, then. You and your long-suffering Angel of Thursday have my blessings, for what they’re worth. Slow clap, mazel tov, etcetera, etcetera. If you like, I could even pull a few strings, see if I can get you Hell as a venue for the wedding.” He smiles darkly, adding, “Although based on recent events, your influence there probably exceeds my own.”

Instead, Dean just raises a brow and says mildly, “So you and Rowena still aren’t talkin’, huh?”

Dean chuckles. “Nah, just figured I’d let you finish first.”

Still aren’t—?! “Really?” Crowley sputters angrily. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Ever the gentleman,” Crowley sneers.

“I try.”

“You really think I didn’t miss you when you were gone?”

“Well, try to get to the bloody point!”

And whatever barb Crowley was about to hurl dies on his tongue. He opens his mouth, then closes it, shifting awkwardly under Dean’s level stare. Eventually Dean sighs; he pushes up off the desk and moves to sit on the edge of the bed, patting the mattress next to him. Crowley sits down without a word.

“Listen,” Dean says, once Crowley is settled, “I don’t know how much Sam told you, but you weren’t the only one we lost that night. Cas died, Lucifer made off with our mom, Kelly didn’t survive the birth, and Jack bolted after I took a shot at him. Which...yeah, in hindsight, I’m not proud of, but that’s where I was at the time.” Dean looks down at his hands. “It wasn’t good. If Sam hadn’t stepped up and been a dad, things with Jack woulda turned out different, and not in a good way. If it’d been up to me, if I’d known how...I probably woulda killed the kid.”

Dean snorts softly. “Yeah, maybe, only you were too busy offing yourself to keep Lucifer locked over in Apocalypse World. Man, you don’t even know how huge that was, do you?” Dean looks up at him then, earnest. “You think everything would be the way it is now if Lucifer had gotten his hands on the kid before we’d figured things out?”

Crowley swallows. He tries to think what he would have done if his and Dean’s places had been reversed, if Dean had died that day instead of him, and comes to only one possible conclusion. “To be perfectly honest,” he says, quietly, “I’d have done the same.”

Crowley can only stare back, stunned. He’d sacrificed himself to thwart Lucifer; that his death had also made it possible for Jack to grow up in the Winchesters’ charge, free of Lucifer’s poisonous early influence, and thereby helped shape who Jack was, who God was...It’s honestly never occurred to him until now.

A protective sort of rage boils up in Crowley on Dean’s behalf. Sam hadn’t gone into all the gory details during his explanation, but Crowley knows enough. “Michael.”

“Anyway,” Dean continues, when Crowley says nothing, “then Jack brought Cas back, which we didn’t even know was possible. Thought maybe it was just a fluke, but we didn’t have time to really think about it because we had to go get our mom back, and then there was all the crap with Lucifer, so we had to deal with that, and then...” Dean trails off, his jaw tight.

Dean inhales steadily, nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that. And then...after…” He sighs. “Jack lost his soul and killed Mom, and I damn near killed him, and then everything with Chuck...Man, it was just non-stop. Then we finally beat Chuck, and with Jack all souped up, we had a way into the Empty, and hell yeah, we were gonna get Cas out, but the plan was always to look for you, too. Oh come on, don’t look at me like that,” Dean says, frowning at Crowley’s shell-shocked expression. “You’re a royal pain in the ass, and there’ve been plenty of times I wanted to stab you in the face, but you think that means I don’t give a damn what happens to you? Like it or not, man, you’re family, and we don’t leave family behind, not when we can help it.”

Crowley studies Dean carefully, looking for the lie...and not finding it. Then, that means...Is he really...?

“Family,” murmurs Crowley, experimentally. “You know, I’ve never had much luck with that word.”

Dean gives him a sad sort of smile. “Yeah, me neither. Not the one I was born to, anyway, 'cept for Sam. The one me and him made, though…” His smile turns genuine. “That one’s pretty damn awesome.”

They sit in silence, neither speaking for several moments; then—

Crowley clears his throat. “Can I ask you something, Dean?”

“Shoot.”

“That first day, after you brought me back, Sam said I should talk to Mother, said she has...regrets.”

Dean regards him thoughtfully. “You thinkin’ about giving her another chance?”

“I honestly don't know what I’m thinking,” Crowley admits. “There’s a lot of bad blood there: hers, mine, both of ours. When I saw her here, in this room, she said she’d missed me, that she loved me, and...”

Crowley feels his throat tighten, and he doesn’t know how to say the rest: that for all he hates himself for it, for all the times it’s blown up in his face, for all the horrible things Rowena has done to him—

“You don’t know if you should believe her,” Dean finishes quietly, “but you want to.”

Crowley sighs. “It’s stupid, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not,” Dean says firmly. “It’s not stupid to want to be loved, not by family: that’s kinda how it’s supposed to be. The stupid part is that it doesn’t always go that way, and then we gotta deal with the fallout.” Dean hesitates, then adds, “And...and sometimes that means we think we don’t deserve love when we do, and other times, it’s people sayin’ they deserve our love when they don’t.”

Crowley mulls that over. “Does she deserve it, do you think?”

“From you?” Dean shakes his head. “Man, that ain’t for me to say.”

Bollocks, thinks Crowley, barely managing to suppress a groan of frustration; if only there were a way to know which decision was the right one ahead of time...“How did you decide?" he asks after a moment. "With your father, I mean.”

Dean looks taken aback, and Crowley thinks perhaps he shouldn’t have asked; but before he can change the topic, Dean sucks in a breath and says, “Look, my father was an obsessed bastard. He left me and Sam alone for weeks on end, and when he was around, he was more of a drill sergeant than a dad. Some of the shit he pulled...” One of Dean’s hands closes into a fist. “It’s not the kind of stuff you just...forgive.”

Then Dean lets out a slow breath, and the fist relaxes. “Thing is, though, a lot of the crap he put us through, raisin’ us the way he did...He was tryin’ to protect what was left of his family, and...and I get that, you know? I’ve done a lot of really messed up shit for the same reason, for family. Doesn’t mean I forgive him, it’s just...complicated.” Dean sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. “Like, really freaking complicated. Honestly, I’m still kinda trying to figure it out. But, yeah...all that to say, I don’t know if Rowena deserves your love or whatever else you wanna give her. She’s done a lot for me and Sam, helped us save our mom and Jack, and then her whole swan dive into Hell and all that, but when it comes to the two of you...That’s something you gotta decide for yourself.”

Crowley studies his hands. His left palm still bears thin scars from that day in the war room, when Sam had told him Rowena had changed and Crowley had gripped his fist tightly enough to draw blood. He still isn’t sure he believes his mother is actually capable of being anything other than what he's always known her as. Maybe she isn't, and if that’s the case, then she doesn’t deserve his love. Crowley can live with that; he has his entire life. If Sam was right, though, if his mother has changed...that’s something Crowley needs to see to believe.

And there it is, Crowley realizes: he needs to see her.

“I think,” he says, after a moment, “that I’ll meet with her and hear what she has to say, and if I don’t like it, I’ll tell her to bugger off, this time for good.”

Dean gives a hum of approval. “Sounds fair to me." He claps Crowley on the knee and stands. "Okay, then, I’m gonna go hit the hay. Lemme know if me or Sam can help with the Rowena thing, okay? You don’t gotta deal with her on your own.”

“I will,” Crowley says; then, as Dean’s about to leave, ��and Dean?”

Dean looks back, hand on the doorknob. “Yeah?”

And Crowley once again feels something stirring in his gut, but this time, it isn’t longing, but gratitude, gratitude that he has Dean in his life and gratitude that, at the end of the day, everything they’ve been through together, the good and the bad, it matters to Dean, too, and that's important. It's fundamental.

“Thank you,” Crowley says, and means it. “For everything.”

For a moment, Dean regards him in silence; then he smiles. “Yeah. You too.”

He slips out of the room and leaves Crowley alone with his thoughts, which are...actually rather optimistic. For the first time in a long time, Crowley feels alive. It’s a new kind of life, one with family, one where he matters, and Crowley doesn’t know for certain what it’s going to bring, but he knows he wants to see it, experience it, eyes wide open.

[magicmetslogic]

Bubbling Over Update!

Fandom: Vesperia

Pairings/Ships: Karol and Raven, Flynn/Yuri

Total WC: 15628

Rating: E for future smut, though those chapters will be tagged

A continuation of @skywardheroine and I's sequel for Growing Pains ^^

Summary for this chapter: A hippo, a angry guildsman, and a strange compulsion to climb 30 foot tall trees makes for an interesting evening as Karol and Raven continue to process the events of the Weasand of Cados

[easylion]

Ima

I is for Ima

Ziva is here and then she is nowhere. For now, she cannot reach her.

Tali.

“Ima. Bevakasha. Please come home.”

The broken voice crackles down the line, over thousands of miles, through millions of wires, firing in out of countries and cities. Budapest. Dayton. Munich.

It pings, here and there, everywhere, across a galaxy she does not see. Technology hides her. For now.

“Ima?”

Target acquired. The plea lands, detonates. It shatters Ziva into a thousand more pieces.

This is it. She mourns. Penance. She repents. She repeats.

“I cannot, tateleh.”

Ziva sounds broken. She feels broken.

Her daughter’s six earthly return falls on today but Ziva feels lately she no longer resides in earth’s orbit. Not now, not lately. She exists outside time and space and everything in-between. The months and days separating she from her and her from she feels heavy as it is tangible. She can no longer navigate this pain.

Her daughter’s broken sob crackles the line again. It sends Ziva flying out of orbit.

Ziva is here and then she is nowhere. For now, she cannot reach her.

Tali.

***

“Mazel tov, Ziva.” A cry. Then, a warm weight, suddenly squirming, searching against her breast. “You are an Ima,” Orli implores. Her face swims into view.

Ziva is so tired.

The baby blinks rapidly. Already seeing. Not yet knowing.

“Her eyes,” Orli murmurs. Hesitant. Then, “They are her fathers’.”

Sea-foam, Ziva thinks. A sharp memory breaks through her fog. Sea-foam green.

Ziva is quiet for a long time.

Her own eyes, Orli notes, gaze off across the room. She is so very far away.

.

Later, there is a day where Tali looks up at her. She is smiling. Always smiling. The smell of sunscreen, but also the fig trees growing in the meadow below the hill by their home. And something familiar. Something him.

There’s a toy she is waving. Chocolate smeared on her face. Ziva doesn’t hear the laughter. She notices the change then. She doesn’t hear anything for a few moments.

Her daughter’s eyes. Their daughter, she corrects herself. A daily reprimand.

When did they begin to turn brown?

Not for the first time, Ziva loses him all over again.

***

“Shteki!” A screech, echoing up and down the hallway. Then, “I hate you, Ima.”

She is twelve and this is her new mantra.

Ziva swears she’ll spend her lifetime chasing forgiveness.

Slow yet heavy footfalls reverberate down the hall. A drop of keys from the car they returned home in. A shiny new Volvo, all the amenities. Cautious and careful, the steps continue. Past the slammed door, the discarded school bag with a freshly minted preparatory boarding school’s logo stitched into the navy fabric. Ducky had recommended it. A fine school, indeed.

There’s a pause, a hesitant step over her just like new dress shoes.

Victoria never wore them. Breena had laughed that night, nudging Jimmy, a secret joke hidden in there, somewhere.

They used to have those moments; Ziva had mused. Those moments feel so foreign these days. Years.

Her time since returning home, to her, to him, to this, has been a purgatory if she is to ever know one. She is forever waiting for the other foot to drop.

When he reaches her, Ziva’s forehead has retreated to its resting place as of late; She cradles her head, knees tented and seated against the wall outside their bedroom. Thin, shaking fingers raised to cover her eyes.

Tony sighs as he takes her in. Her curls hide her face from him, anyway. But she must know she can’t hide her tears.

He hesitates, his own mantra on the tip of his tongue. It will do nothing to soothe her in this moment, but he’d be remiss if he didn’t try.

“It won’t be this way forever.”

Ziva’s throat closes, catching and releasing a sob too quiet for him to hear.

Her mantra.

She had said the same to their daughter all those years ago, a broken record on repeat.

Running, hiding. More Running. Her daughter employs her mother’s nature now. It was the only lesson Ziva’s unintentionally, unwillingly, unknowingly, imparted on her.

Ziva is not sure if her daughter wants to be found, least of all by her.

She knows the feeling.

***

“I-ma. I-ma. EEEE-MA”.

A gale of laughter. A first word. Followed by a second and a third. It’s preceded by her first taste of peaches and her first summer rain. It is simple and it is not. Her days are short as they are long. There is no sleep, but the laughter makes up for it, tenfold.

Ziva knows these are the days she will miss.

***

“Ima,” She giggles. “There is a boy.”

Her voice is cautious. A secret. There’s a smile on her lips. Ziva can tell, even over the phone. She imagines Tony’s smile and the dimple on her cheek – a tell of hers that has nearly always betrayed her when deception was on her tongue.

Tony’s eyebrows appear above the paper he, yes, still reads. Her finger pauses on her tablet, an article on Iraq’s rehabilitation comes to a halt at the end of her finger. He is sixty-two now but his hearing is most certainly twenty-twenty.

He reads Ziva’s look, a lifetime of intuition forged by partnership reprimands him even in silence.

A look of warning.

Her voice, nervous. Another giggle. “Do not tell Père. Not yet.” Now, Hebrew. “A secret.”

The papa in question remains silent. The paper has long been retired to his bedside table.

Smiling, Ziva plays along, whispering back down the line to her.

“Does a boy have a name?”

Heart imploding, head exploding, Tony manages a smile. He couldn’t help it. They finally made it here.

.

The phone call ends some time later. He returns to the bedroom, previously vacated while secrets were exchanged, I love you’s whispered across a phone. A serene look adorns Ziva’s face.

“Hey, Ima,” His eyes twinkle. Her breath catches.

Even after all these years.

“You’ve done good”.

She smiles. She is forgiven.

Not Mossad, not on the run.

A retired investigator. A partner.

An Ima.

[delkios]

Undertow (ToV)

Some creative license regarding Zaphias's water system, particularly the canal in the Lower Quarter, otherwise this would be taking place in the river outside of Zaphias which just seemed unlikely.

Title: Undertow Fandom: Tales of Vesperia Rating: PG Word Count: 2582 Characters: Flynn, Yuri Summary: Though Yuri brought up the time Flynn was swept away by a river as a light-hearted story, it hadn't been nearly as amusing at the time.

(dreamwidth) (pillowfort)

Flynn gasped for air, kicking wildly to keep his head above water. The river was rough and swift but thankfully not enough that Flynn, being a fairly strong swimmer, thought he was going to drown. Unfortunately it took all his strength to keep it that way, unable to make any progress for the nearest bank. He wasn't even certain when he'd been swept out of Zaphias, only knew that he'd been pulled under for a moment and when he came back up he couldn't see any buildings or even the rings of the barrier. His arms and legs were beginning to ache and Flynn knew if he didn't do something soon, his strength would give out and there'd be nothing he could do to keep from drowning. Something flickered on the edge of Flynn's vision, moving crosswise against the current and too deliberate to be part of the rushing water. He managed to keep his head up and water out of his eyes enough to recognize the ragged fin of a merman and for one heart stopping moment, all Flynn could think about was how helpless and vulnerable he was in the water. Then he was overcome by a sudden, hot determination as a thought rushed through his mind: if he could grab the merman, maybe he could get out of the river.

The monster came at him, jaws first, and Flynn held his breath and stopped fighting the current, using instead to twist his body out of the way. His should bumped against the merman's rough side and he made a desperate grab at the creature's arm and missed and grabbed again, catching hold of the hook it held. It used its weapon to pull Flynn in, trying for another bite and Flynn lunged for its arm again. The top of its snout bumped against his chest, lifting him momentarily out of the water and landing on its back. He gripped the dorsal fin tightly and the merman rolled in the water, trying to dislodge him and, when that didn't work, tried scraping its back against the riverbed but Flynn clung too close, its fin dragging into the dirt and rocks. His lungs burning, Flynn kicked his heel into the merman's side, right in the gills as hard as he could and it made a choking sound, writhing for a moment before clawing at the riverbed and dragging itself toward the bank. Flynn gasped and coughed and his body wanted to drop to the ground but he knew doing so would basically be certain death. The merman let out a wheeze and tried to dig its claws into the leg that had injured its gills but Flynn swung it away and aimed another kick on its opposite side. It faltered again, stumbling further out of the water as it tried to swipe again at determined child clinging to its back. It wasn't able to grab him but it left three bleeding scratches over Flynn's side. He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the pain. Distantly he heard a voice say, "The hell? Is that a kid?" But Flynn was too preoccupied trying to survive the merman to give it more than passing acknowledgment. Despite his body's exhaustion and pain as the merman's claws continued to rake over him, desperation kept Flynn clinging to its back, twisting around to keep the monster from getting a grip on him while maintaining his own. It growled, like gurgling water, and Flynn could feel the noise vibrating through its back and it sounded frustrated as it kept trying to grab at him and Flynn could only be thankful its weapon had been lost down the river, otherwise he'd have surely been skewered by now. Which didn't help him get out of this current situation, but minor victories. "Kid! Get down!" His eyes snapped open and he saw four armed people charging toward them. Flynn's surprise loosened his grip just enough that the merman tossed him off with a harsh twist before noticing the oncoming rush. It froze for a moment before turning and diving back into the river. The group skidded to a halt, looking down at Flynn in various degrees of disbelief and shock. "Holy hell, kid- are you okay?" "Where did you even come from?" "Damn, that thing got you good." One of the men held out his hand toward Flynn. "Let's get you over to our caravan, okay? We can treat your wounds there." He coughed and nodded, breath having been knocked out of him when he hit the ground. The man easily picked him up and cradled Flynn between his waist and the crook of his arm. Flynn wanted to say that he could walk but now that the immediate danger had passed, his body was beginning to shake from the adrenaline crash. The caravan was one large cart hooked up to a couple quietta and on the side was a logo that Flynn recognized as Fortune's Market, the only guild allowed to work inside Zaphias. There the man sat him down on the cart steps and another came up with a canteen and rag. "Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?" He said with a friendly smile. Flynn nodded again and let the man get the work. He had to take off his shirt so the man to clean the scratches on his back and a woman with a hammer strapped to her back picked it up, frowning as she examined it. "I'd say this is a loss. Pretty sure we got something in the back that might fit ya." As she began to move off with his shirt, Flynn said, "Um!" "Hm?" "I don't have many shirts, could I keep that one, please?" It was bad enough he'd lost one of his shoes in the river. She and the man taking care of him looked at Flynn like he was crazy. Then their looks intensified and Flynn knew they were examining his threadbare clothing and gaunt figure and he tried not to shrink back. After a moment, the woman sighed and looked away. "I'm no seamstress but I've been known to wield a needle a time or two." Her large arms flexed, showing off a number of scars scattered here and there. "Still gonna find ya something to change into, though. Don't need to be sitting around in sopping wet clothes." After his wounds had been cleaned, the man pulled an apple gel from a pouch at his waist, piercing the gummy skin so he could rub it directly over Flynn's injuries, the pain dulling to a faint ache and skin beginning to knit itself up. Flynn changed into a shirt donated by the smallest member of the caravan- which still draped over him like a dress -and his clothes were placed on top of the cart with rocks to dry. "So?" The man that had carried Flynn asked, seemingly the leader of the caravan. "Where'd you come from?" "Zaphias," Flynn said around a piece of jerky he'd been given. He whistled. "That's a bit of a ways. How'd you end up all the way out here?" "I fell into the river." He looked around, trying to find a hint of Zaphias's spire but the caravan was in a bit of a valley. "I don't know how far I went before I grabbed the merman." Around him, the guildmembers all stopped. "Wait- you grabbed the merman on purpose?" "Yeah." His teeth clamped down on another bit of jerky, sucking on the taste before chewing it. "I might've gone all the way to the sea otherwise." "Kid," the woman said, "that thing coulda killed you." Flynn shrugged. "Least I got outta the water." They stared at him for a long moment before breaking out into laughter. "Kid... I don't even know what to say. You are something else." He flushed, pleased but embarrassed. After all, he just wanted to survive. "Well, lucky for you we're headed to Zaphias ourselves though we're probably not going to make it before they close the gates for the night." The man chuckled, shaking his head. "What's your name, Kid? You got the devil's own luck and I'll bet it'll be interesting to see how you grow up." He beamed brightly. "Flynn Scifo!" ~*~*~*~ Yuri woke up with a headache, clogged nose, salt on his cheeks and his eyelashes sticking together. He felt, quite frankly, awful. Not just physically but he felt sick in his stomach and his heart. Hanks had taken him in last night after all of Yuri's screaming and struggling made it obvious someone would have to make sure he didn't go running off trying to look for Flynn. He'd meant to pretend to sleep and wait until Hanks slept himself before sneaking out but, as he lay in the big empty bed that once belonged to Hanks's now-grown-son, Yuri couldn't help the desperate, crushing loneliness that seized him and he'd started to cry. Quietly at first until it grew into great, heaving sobs that left him choking into the pillow, burrowing into the blankets to hide from the world. Yuri had never cried so hard in his life. At least not that he could remember. Not even when Flinath or Charla died, one after the other, but the thought of losing Flynn, one of the few good things in Yuri's life, the only thing Yuri really considered his, felt like the whole world was coming to an end. He'd sobbed even as Hanks gathered him up in his arms and Yuri was equal parts mortified and grateful for the comfort the man offered. Yuri had fallen into a dreamless sleep and woken up with the sun brightly streaming into the room and Hanks sleeping in an uncomfortable looking position against the headboard. Very carefully, very slowly, Yuri crawled across the bed and quietly lowered himself out. He could hear Hanks's wife bustling about in the kitchen. If he could sneak passed her, he'd be able to go on the search he'd meant to go on last night. Slowly he eased the front door open just enough to slip through and just as quietly eased it closed. He sat on the front steps to stuff his feet into his boots and laced them just enough so they wouldn't fall off. It must have been mid-morning, the first rush of the day giving way to a steady stream of people moving about and Yuri knew it was only a matter of time before he was noticed. He made it about two blocks down when he heard, "Yuri? Does Hanks know you're out?" He ran. More people were calling out his name but Yuri ignored them and kept running. If no one had found Flynn yet, he must have gotten swept out of Zaphias. Yuri didn't know where the canal emptied out but he was sure if he circled the city wall once he was out he'd come across it eventually- "Yuri!" He came to such a sudden halt that Yuri tripped over his own feet. He scrambled to his hands and knees, shoving the hair from his face and saw, next to a Fortune's Market cart, Flynn. Something in Yuri's chest twisted and he barely recognized the high pitched whine coming from his own throat and he hurtled himself towards his best friend, all but tackling him in a bear hug and raining kisses on Flynn's face between garbled, unintelligible words. "Yuri," Flynn wriggled in his grasp, "c'mon!" "You're okay!" Yuri eventually managed to choke out. "Yu-ri!" He'd finally managed to get his hands between them, not pushing Yuri back out of reach but far enough that he could give his best friend that ridiculously bright smile Yuri had almost thought he'd never see again. "I'm glad that didn't turn into a big deal." Yuri reared back and punched him in the face. "You JERK!" ~*~*~*~ Having sent Karol ahead, because no doubt someone would suggest celebrating Flynn's victory, Yuri turned back to Flynn and scowled. "What's with the shit-eating grin?" Flynn wasn't really grinning, breathing still heavy from his marathon battle, wiping the sweat from his face and neck, his hair even more tousled than ever. But it was all in the eyes, the sharp, knowing look and subtle shift of his lips shaping them just so. "Just thinking of all the details of that story you neglected to mention." Yuri crossed his arms and tossed his head as if he had no idea what Flynn was talking about. "Everything was the truth." Flynn shifted his head to the side and Yuri could practically hear him think 'more or less'. Then he looked back Yuri and the specter of that shit-eating grin grew into something a little more prominent. "Perhaps you just 'forgot' about how you cried when I came back?" Yuri tsked- as much as he enjoyed using their shared past to needle Flynn, it was annoying that it went both ways. "Or that you kept kissing me and refused to let me go for more than a minute at a time? And that you made me swear for a week that I'd never leave you behind again?" "Or the reason why Zaphias has grid iron grates in the canals is because of you?" "Or that you demanded to bathe with me to make sure I wouldn't fall in the drain." Yuri scoffed. "You say that like I'd have a problem sharing a bath with you now." Though, from the slide of his gaze, it was obvious that he meant for very different reasons. To his delight, instead of getting flustered or annoyed, Flynn full on smirked. "Are you that eager to scrub the new champion's back?" "Old news," Yuri's tone was dismissive even as he pulse kicked up a notch, "I already beat you in Aurnion." As hard as he fought, as tired as he must have been, between the fire in Flynn's eyes and the color still flushing his cheeks, Yuri knew Flynn's blood was still singing and that, far beyond any of the others, that was Yuri's favorite look on Flynn. The deep, intense gaze, the heat and tension in every strong line of his body, the way he moved so purposeful and wanting with eyes that could only see Yuri. It never failed to make Yuri want to be wild and reckless in ways that decency laws would absolutely not approve of. They stood chest to chest and it took far more willpower than Yuri would ever admit to not grab a fistful of Flynn's hair and have him right on the coliseum floor. "Do you really think you'll win a second time?" Flynn asked, anticipation shivering over Yuri's spine. "Always up for a rematch with you." Flynn leaned in closer still, lips just a hairsbreadth from brushing against Yuri's. "Then let's see who comes out on top." ~*~*~*~ (optional skit) Estelle: Natz said he made a reservation for us to celebrate Fynn's win and- hm? Where's Flynn and Yuri? Karol: I thought they were coming right behind me. Raven: Oh, I'm sure they are. Karol: Should I go get them? Judith: It's fine. No doubt they're celebrating in their own way. (reaction shots) Estelle: O-Oh... Rita: Ugh! I didn't need to know that! Karol: Huh? Raven: Well, no sense letting that reservation go to waste. Let's go on ahead. (all but Karol moves off) Karol: I don't get it. What are you talking about? Guys? C'mon!

[menachembluming]

Menachem Bluming Muses: Why Smash a Glass Under the Chupah

Question from a groom: 

I understand the reason we break a glass at a wedding ceremony is to commemorate the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem some 2000 years ago. This indeed was a significant event in Jewish history, but it doesn't seem to have any personal relevance to me. What does a destroyed building have to do with my wedding?

Here’s a Wedding/ Tisha B’Av thought:

The destruction of the Temple has extreme personal relevance. It happened to you. The shattering of the glass commemorates not only the fall of Jerusalem, but also a cataclysmic shattering that happened to your very own temple, your soul.

Before you were born, you and your soulmate were one - a single soul. Then, as your time to enter this world approached, G-d shattered that single soul into two parts, one male and one female. These two half souls were then born into the world to try and find each other and reunite.

At the time, the split seemed tragic. Half of your soul went missing. What was once a peaceful whole had become fragmented and incomplete. Why would G-d do that to you? If you and your soulmate were meant to be together, why didn't G-d leave you together?

Only when standing under the Chuppah do you find the answer to this question. At the wedding, these two halves are becoming whole, reuniting never to part again. And you can look back at the painful experience of being separated, and actually celebrate it. For now you realize that the separation brought you closer. Only by being torn apart, living lives away from each other, were you able to develop as individuals, mature and grow, and then come together in a true relationship, a deeper oneness than you had before, because it is created by your choice. Had you never been separated, you would never appreciate what it means to be together, because it wasn't earned. At the wedding you realize that your soul was only split in order to reunite and become one on a higher and deeper level than before.

And so we break a glass under the Chuppah, and we immediately say Mazel Tov. Because now, in retrospect, even the splitting of the souls is reason to be joyous, for it gave your connection depth and real meaning.

So you see, your personal story and the story of Jerusalem's destruction are inextricably linked. The shattering that happened to Jerusalem happened to your soul; and the joy you are experiencing now will one day be experienced by Jerusalem too.

The Temple was not a mere building, it was the meeting place of heaven and earth, ideal and reality, G-d and creation. When the Temple was lost, with it went the open relationship between G-d and the world. Our souls were ripped away from our Soulmate.

The only antidote to fragmentation is unity. And the deepest unity is experienced at a wedding. Every wedding is a healing, a mending of one fragmented soul, a rebuilding of Jerusalem in miniature. Our sages teach us, "Whoever celebrates with a bride and groom it is as if he rebuilt the ruins of Jerusalem." When soulmates reunite in holy marriage, an energy of love and oneness is generated, elevating the world and bringing it one step closer to mending its broken relationship with G-d.

And one day soon, when the Temple in Jerusalem is rebuilt, our souls will reunite with G-d, our Soulmate, in a true relationship that we built ourselves. We will no longer mourn the destruction, but looking back we will finally understand its purpose, and we will celebrate. Then, even the shattering will deserve a Mazel Tov.

Mendel (Menachem) Bluming and many other sources

[tumblueberry]

Tagged by @erasedcitizen2​! I had to skip the many songs with 0 lyrics I got tho.

Rules: Write the first 10 songs that come up on shuffle (no skipping) and quote your favorite lyrics from each song, then tag 10 people.

1.  The Real Folk Blues from Cowbow Bebop, by Yoko Kanno. Despair filled with hope And this chance with a trap set What's right or wrong? It's like two sides of a coin How long must I live till I'm healed.

2. Si no puedo amarla (Spanish version of BatB’s If I can’t love her) sung by Javier Ordinas.  No existe belleza, no queda grandeza  que me hagan cambiar si no puedo amarla. ¿Quién puede ayudarme, quién puede enseñarme cómo he de ganar su corazón también? Si no es ella ¡no habrá quién!

Tiempo atrás debí saber todo cuanto pude ser si yo hubiera sido bondadoso... I love how the melody changes in this part.

3. Orion by Kenshi Yonezu (translations from Japanese are weird, man). You spoke in a voice Like pure-white porcelain... The smell of winter.Within my heart, a silently raging storm Rose up, along this darkened path. Then twinkling stars fell down from overhead... So immersed in them, I was nearly brought to tears.

4. Deliver us from Prince of Egypt, that masterpiece. [YOCHEVED] Yal-di ha-tov veh ha-rach Al ti-ra veh al tif-chad My son, I have nothing I can give But this chance that you may live I pray we'll meet again If He will deliver us [SLAVES] Deliver us Hear our prayer Deliver us From despair These years of slavery grow too cruel to stand Deliver us There's a land you promised us Deliver us Out of bondage and Deliver us to the Promised Land.

5. Fire by BTS. Hey, burn it up Like you’re gonna set everything on fire Hey, turn it up Until the dawn is gone It's ok to just live because we're still young Who do you think you are to say otherwise Stop comparing, I'm just human (So what~)

I leave BTS on when it plays on my YT mix because their songs are usually full of energy and it wakes me up xD I had no idea what the lyrics said until now.

6. Honeybee by Steam Powered Giraffe. You didn't have to smile at me Your grin's the sweetest that I've ever seen But you did. Yes you did You didn't have to offer your hand Cause since I've kissed it I am at your command But you did Oh, Turpentine erase me whole I don't want to live my life alone I was waiting for you all my life Oh Why Set me free, my...honey-BeeHo-neyBe

7.  Mob Choir 99, cover by Jonathan Young & SixteeninMono If you can't see you're all alone The answers you might one day know I know that you will suffer through the strife and hate Your life is yours so live each day And it's okay if you run away As long as you are capable It's no mistake If everyone's not special then Maybe you can be what you want to be I know that you will suffer through The joy and pain Your life is yours, so live each day But if you are no different Then that's okay You're searching for the answers You will find them all In time.

8. Blackstar by David Bowie. How many times does an angel fall? How many people lie instead of talking tall? He trod on sacred ground, he cried loud into the crowd (I’m a blackstar, I’m a blackstar, I’m not a gangstar).

Talk about weird lyrics. But the melody is amazing imo.

9. Uprising by MUSE. Interchanging mind control Come let the revolution take its toll if you could Flick a switch and open your third eye, you'd see that We should never be afraid to die (So come on)

10. Un poco loco, from COCO. I love the beginning because I always smile when I recognise the song xD Also gotta love the mexican accent that they kept in both the original and the Spanish versions :_) QUE EL SIELO NO ES ASUL AY MI AMOR, AY MI AMOR. QUE ES ROJO DISES TÚ AY MI AMOR, AY MI AMOR. VES TODO ALREVÉS AY MI AMOR, AY MI AMOR. CREO QUE PIENSAS CON LOS PIES AY MI AMOR, AY MI AMOOOOOOOR. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So that was LONG and took a lot of time because my internet is being an ass this week so I couldn’t check the lyrics properly and yeah, it was a frustrating process. I hope you enjoyed seeing how full of east asian stuff is my YT mix these days xD PS: Please check out Jonathan Young’s covers, btw, he is amazing. Tagging whoever wants to do this, my brain is too angry to think and I’m to hungry to stay here a single second more :*

[shefa]

Walk a Mile in My Shoes

WALK A MILE IN MY SHOES SERMON FOR KOL NIDRE 5778 -- 2017 Rabbi Stephen Weiss, B'nai Jeshurun Congregation

Well here we are on Yom Kippur eve, Kol Nidre, the most solemn day in the whole Jewish calendar. So, I want to begin this evening by invoking the King. No, not the King of Kings, but rather the King of Rock and Roll. And I’m going to ask you to help me out, by clapping along with me, and singing too if you know the words:

If I could be you, if you could be me for just one hour If we could find a way to get inside each other's mind If you could see you through my eyes instead of your ego I believe you'd be, I believe you'd be surprised to see that you've been blind

Walk a mile in my shoes Walk a mile in my shoes Yeah, before you abuse, criticize, and accuse Walk a mile in my shoes

Now if we spend the day throwing stones at one another ‘Cause I don’t think ‘cause I don’t think or wear my hair same way you do O well I may be common people but I’m your brother And when you strike out to try hurt me, it’s a hurtin’ you

Walk a mile in my shoes Walk a mile in my shoes Yeah, before you abuse, criticize, and accuse Walk a mile in my shoes

Now there are people on reservations and out in the ghetto And, brother, there, but for the grace of God go you and I If I only had the wings of a little angel Don't you know I'd fly - to the top of a mountain and then I'd cry, cry, cry?

Walk a mile in my shoes Walk a mile in my shoes Yeah, before you abuse, criticize, and accuse Walk a mile in my shoes

Sing it with me!

Walk a mile in my shoes Walk a mile in my shoes Yeah, before you abuse, criticize, and accuse Walk a mile in my shoes

I’ve been humming that Elvis Presley song a lot lately, because after all, this day is all about shoes. What kind of shoes are you wearing today? Running shoes? Crocs? Dress shoes with a rubber sole? Probably not blue suede shoes. We don’t wear leather-soled shoes on Yom Kippur because leather is understood by our sages as a sign of luxury and comfort. Our sages did not want us to get too comfortable in our own shoes. They wanted us to step outside our comfort zone, to get inside someone else’s skin, their heart, their mind, to experience life through their eyes, to learn what it’s like to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes. To experience empathy. Because only through the experience of empathy can we both change ourselves and change the world around us.

Let me share with you a story about such a change. In 2012, Csanad Szegedi was poised to lead Jobbik, an ultra-nationalist neo-Nazi, racist, anti-Semitic political party in Hungary that garnered 20% of the vote in 2014. Jobbik consistently accuses the Jews of being at the center of a cabal of western economic interests seeking world domination.

The opposition research from Szegedi’s rivals revealed the surprising news that Szegedi’s maternal grandmother and grandfather were Auschwitz survivors. It was true. When his mother was fourteen, her father told her the secret but insisted that she never reveal it to anyone. And she didn’t, not even to Szegedi, who was shocked by the news.

When Szegedi first admitted the truth about his Jewish ancestry, one party leader urged him to shoot himself. Another urged him to make a public apology. It was this comment that made him say, “Wait a minute, I am supposed to apologize for the fact that my family was killed at Auschwitz?” When he stepped out of his comfort zone and gave a speech in support of Israel, skinheads and neo-Nazis showed up at his home chanting “Death to the Jews.” He was forced to experience what Hungarian Jews had experienced at the hands of his Jobbik party, at his hands as a Jobbik leader. This changed him forever. In response, he devoted himself to defending human rights. He says, “I am aware of my responsibility and I know I will have to make it right in the future.”

Having learned the truth about himself, he resigned from the party, went to visit a local rabbi, studied Torah and underwent circumcision. Dovid, as he is now known, became a religious Jew, keeping kosher and observing Shabbat, studying Torah and Talmud and davening regularly. And this fall he made aliyah to Israel.

Walk a mile in my shoes.

Szegedi had radical empathy forced upon him by circumstance. But empathy can be a force in our more mundane everyday lives as well.

Let me give you a simple example. It happened once that a young girl’s friend lost her favorite doll which she’d brought over to play with. She was heartbroken. She sat on the steps and began to cry. When the first little girl’s mother came outside to check on the girls, she found them both sitting on the step sobbing. She asked what was wrong, and her daughter told her through her tears that her little friend, Suzie had lost her favorite doll. The mother looked puzzled for a bit, then asked her daughter, “did you lose your doll too?” “No”, the daughter sobbed. “Then what’s wrong with you?” asked the mother, “Nothing” she sobbed. “I’m just helping Suzie cry.”

Helping Suzie cry. You see, that’s what real empathy is. Empathy is feeling what another person is feeling. It is the art of stepping imaginatively into the shoes of another person, understanding their feelings, their experiences, their perspectives, the way they see the world, and using that understanding to guide your own actions.

Walk a mile in my shoes.

Empathy is not sympathy. Sympathy is when I feel for you. Empathy is when I feel with you. Sympathy is when say “I know you are hurting.” Empathy is when I endeavor to feel and understand your hurt from your perspective. When I hurt with you.

Imagine that someone has fallen in a deep dark hole in their lives. And they shout out “I’m stuck, it’s dark, and I’m overwhelmed.” Sympathy is when you look over the edge of that hole and you look over the edge of that hole, and you wave down there and you say, “Wow. That looks really bad.” Empathy is when you climb down into the hole. You stand with them, and you say: Hey, I know what it’s like down here. I’ve been down here. You’re not alone.”

Moses climbed down in that hole. The midrash tells us that Moses among the slaves in the field and put his shoulder to the grindstone. He felt others' pain as his own, and helped alleviate their burden.

Rabbi Israel Salanter, the great 19th century founder of the Mussar movement, also climbed down into that hole. The Jewish community of Kovno operated a homeless shelter which fell into disrepair. Despite various appeals, the community failed to fix the facility. So what did Rabbi Israel Salant do? He went to sleep in the broken-down shelter. And he vowed to continue doing so until proper repairs were made.

The Baal Shem Tov, the founder of Hasidism, taught that a tzaddik – a righteous person – must go down into Gehenna – to Hell – himself to be able to raise up souls. Not to sin with them. Not to castigate them. But to be with them empathetically and experience their pain. If you cannot experience someone’s pain, if you cannot identify with them, you cannot help lift them up.

Walk a mile in my shoes.

The amazing thing is that we are hard-wired for empathy. Scientists have discovered that some 20% of the neurons in our brain are what they call “mirror neurons.” These “mirror neurons” fire when we see someone else doing or feeling something, and they allow us to participate with them in a kind of virtual reality. You’ve all experienced it: When you see a scary scene in a movie, and you jump just as the actor who is scared jumps. When you are with someone who is experiencing pain and you wince. When you see a face that looks sad and it makes you feel sad. That’s our “mirror neurons.” It’s as if the barriers between us dissolve, as if our minds and our bodies become one.

That’s what eastern religions teach, and that’s what Judaism teaches as well. Kabbalah – Jewish mysticism – tells us that all the distinctions between us are illusory, that in truth we are all part of one unity. You and I, the chairs on which you sit, the trees and grass outside these windows and the air we breathe are all a part of the flow of Gods energy and spirit. That’s the meaning of the Shema. Not just that there is one God, but that God is the singularity of the universe, that everything is contained and unified within God’s spirit, forever connected. To understand this is to understand the true meaning of empathy. It is the God-given ability to dissolve the barriers between us and become one with each other.

Empathy enables us to feel connected to and supported by others. It is a cornerstone of our emotional intelligence, contributing to both our humility and our self-esteem. It opens our minds to new landscapes and challenges us to grow in new directions. It should come as no surprise then that empathy contributes to our emotional wellbeing and our happiness.

Philosopher Mary Gordon points out that at the Nuremberg trials, one of the judges pointed to the war crimes of the Holocaust as a “failure of empathy.” She goes on to say that “Empathy is integral to solving conflict in the family, schoolyard, boardroom and war room. The ability to take the perspective of another person, to identify commonalities through our shared feelings, is the best peace pill we have.”

Walk a mile in my shoes.

And yet it seems that lately we have lost touch with this unique gift that God has given us. Instead of breaking down barriers we seem to build them up, drawing ever more distinctions between “us” and “them.” We live in a world marked by a hostile disregard for the ‘other’ whether that ‘other’ is someone of a different race, religion, gender, orientation, or political persuasion, or a different segment of society. We especially seem to demonize those who hold different opinions from our own.

Indeed, we suffer from an empathy deficit. Studies show that empathy levels in this county have dropped by nearly 50% in the last three decades. The most dramatic drop has been in the last ten years. Why is that?

First, we must acknowledge that feeling empathy is hard for us because it requires us to feel vulnerable and out of control. Feeling someone else’s pain may open up wounds of our own that we have managed to suppress and feeling emotions we may not want to feel. Looking at things from another person’s perspective may challenge our own beliefs and assumptions.

We also suffer from an increasing focus on ourselves. The 90’s was the “me” generation. The millennial decade has been the “I” generation. For decades, our psychologists have told us that if we want to solve our problems and to feel contentment in life we should look inside ourselves to resolve our issues, instead of telling us to look outside at the world and those around us. You don’t believe me? Just go to the bookstore and see how large the “Self-Help” section is. Then do me a favor. Go find the section labeled “Helping Others.” Of course, you won’t find it.

Some of this decline in empathy is also from compassion fatigue. We are flooded daily with news of catastrophes so overwhelming and so frequent as to make us numb: Harvey, Irma, Jose and Maria, the tsunami in Asia, the earthquake in Mexico, refugees from Syria, the genocide of the Rohingya, terror attacks in Israel… it’s just more than we can absorb.

Some of this decline in empathy may be technology itself making us less empathetic. Not just being on our computers, tablets and phones all the time, but technology’s very presence in our lives. Did you know that studies show that if there is a phone just sitting, turned off, on the table between two people, those people listen less to each other? Isn’t that fascinating?

Our resistance to empathy also comes from being in a state of denial. Perhaps we feel shame or guilt that by contrast, we live such privileged lives. Perhaps we turn away because we don’t want to admit that we might be somehow responsible. So we tell ourselves that our actions won’t really change anything.

And if we are honest, some of our resistance to empathy comes as well from our own prejudices that make it difficult for us to appreciate the humanity and uniqueness of other people’s personal stories.

Walk a mile in my shoes.

So how do we regain our ability to empathize?

It starts with the most basic tool: listening. Really listening. What is commonly called “active” or “empathetic” listening. That means that when you speak, I am fully focused on being present with you rather then caught in my own reaction or preparing my response. This is an exercise that I make every couple practice in the months before their wedding. I see some of you in the sanctuary tonight. You can vouch for this! Listen to your partner and then repeat back to them exactly what you believe you heard, without commentary or response. Check in with them: did I hear you correctly? Only once they confirm you heard them fully and correctly do you respond.

Couples are surprised how often they don’t hear each other correctly. And couples find this exercise terribly awkward at first, But those who persist find it becomes natural, a part of their everyday life and relationship. And do you know what? Studies show that active listening increases the chances of a marriage’s success. And it’s not just for our personal relationships. One recent study showed that when corporate management and unions used empathetic, active listening, the time it took to negotiate a contract was reduced by 50%. In his famous treatise I and Thou, Martin Buber taught that we can become fully human only when we have “genuine conversations” that try look at the world through the other person’s eyes and to comprehend their thoughts and feelings. In that book he described what that process was like for him. He wrote: “I imagine to myself what another man is at this very moment wishing, feeling, perceiving, thinking. . ..” He went on to write that the “inmost growth of the self is not accomplished, as people like to suppose today, in man’s relation to himself, but in the relation between one and the other, between men.” It’s only in that dialogue – in the listening – that we can discover each other.

A second tool in regaining empathy is to humanize those hidden individuals in our lives, those that we benefit from but we take for granted. Commentator Karen Armstrong suggests we try this exercise:

“When you get up in the morning, remember those who planted, picked and spun the cotton of your sheets and who collected, treated and exported the beans you grind for your morning coffee. You enjoy their product,” she says, “so you have a responsibility for them, especially if they were working in poor conditions. As you set off to work, reflect on the thousands of workers and engineers who maintain the roads, cars, railways, planes, trains and underground transport on which you rely. Continue this exercise throughout the day.”

A third tool to help us regain empathy is what one social philosopher calls “the character game.” When you see someone who you might treat as other, someone who is different than you, try instead to imagine them in a more human guise. When you see someone on the street who you think looks dangerous, looks different, makes you uncomfortable, or just seems worth your time and concern, try to imagine him playing hide and seek with his child or singing to her elderly mother to cheer her up. In this way you can give people a human face, break through our stereotyped views of them, and open us to new opportunities for connection and conversation.

Finally, we have to be willing to set down our worldview for a moment and put on someone else’s glasses. We must allow ourselves to see the world through their eyes, to experience what they experience, to feel what they feel, to know their truth, and to understand that their truth – whether we agree with it or not, whether we like it or not – exists in the world beside our truth, and that we have to support them in it.

If we want to regain our sense of connection to each other, if we want to heal as individuals and as a society, this is where it all begins: We must learn to walk a mile in each other’s shoes. To learn to humanize the other. To have genuine conversations in which we seek to see the world from their perspective. To understand and accept without judgement what someone else is feeling and be able to be with them in their pain. To let down our guard and allow ourselves to be vulnerable, to be changed by those around us. To break down the illusory barriers that we think divide us and see how much we share in common and how good it feels to be in one unity.

This is the meaning of the words that we sing so often that come from our sacred texts:

Hinei ma-tov u-mah na’im shevet achim gam yachad. “Behold, how good it is when we – brothers and sisters, the children of the One God – can dwell together in unity.

So this Yom Kippur, we know what we need to do. Sing it with me one last time:

Walk a mile in my shoes Walk a mile in my shoes Yeah, before you abuse, criticize and accuse Walk a mile in my shoes

May we all learn to walk a mile in each other’s shoes every day. Amen

[thebeautyoftorah]

MATTOT

bs'd Shalom. The thought of this week of my book 'Healing Anger'

"A joyful person feels less desire to control others. His happiness comes from within, freeing him from the need to exercise control over everything outside himself in order to be happier. Hence, nobody can “make” him angry, because he does not let others take control over him.” Buy my book at http://www.feldheim.com/healing-anger.html  If you want to buy it from me in Israel let me know. To join the over 4,000 recipients  in English and Spanish and receive these insights free on a weekly email, feedback, comments, to support or dedicate this publication which has been all around the world, or if you know any other Jew who is interested in receiving these insights weekly, contact me. Shabbat Shalom.

MATTOT-The Joy of Accepting Rebuke

The Sefat Emet’s father died when the he was very young. His grandfather, the Chiddushe haRim, raised the young orphan, who was a child prodigy. At a very young age, he once stayed up almost the whole night learning Torah with a study partner until he fell asleep in the early morning. He awoke after a short time to find himself a few minutes late for the morning prayers of Shacharit. The Chiddushei haRim approached his grandson afterwards and told him, “If the Rebbe’s grandson comes late to davening, what type of impression does that make on the people?” He strongly rebuked him, presuming that his tardiness was the result of an element of laziness, and he even told him that his actions were a Desecration of G-d’s Name.

Instead of defending himself, the Sfat Emet listened quietly to the scolding he received. His chavruta, who was up with him and knew what had happened, approached his young study partner and asked, “Why didn’t you just tell your grandfather you were up all night learning Torah?”[1]. The Sfat Emet answered, “would I waste the opportunity of being rebuked by my grandfather. To hear mussar from a great person is a wonderful experience!”

We can’t relate so easily to this idea. When we are right and someone accuses us falsely, we are the first to jump and correct him. The Sfat Emet wanted to hear the chastisement. He based this line of thinking on an incident in this Parsha [2].

When the tribes of Reuben and Gad approached Moshe Rabbenu, asking that he allow them to remain on Ever HaYarden where there was sufficient land for them to farm their animals, Moshe jumped at them. His main point of criticism was that by not entering Eretz Israel they would be abandoning their brethren in the upcoming conquest. Moshe reminds them of the incident of the spies and its terrible consequences. Then, they clarified their original position. However, in the meantime, they sat there and listened to Moshe’s criticism. They patiently took in all the mussar that he was giving them, and said that they would join the rest of the nation in conquering the land.   Bene Gad and Reuven in truth had intended to join the conquest right from the beginning but Moshe Rabbenu did not understand this from their request and consequently rebuked them harshly for being unwilling to join their brethren in conquering the land.  If so, why did they not interrupt him right at the beginning of his condemnation instead of having to endure such a strong rebuke?  The Sfat Emet explained that they wanted to hear the word of rebuke from a great man. They were happy to listen to his criticism even though they could easily refute it.  So too, although he could have stemmed the rebuke of his grandfather but he preferred to hear the rebuke of a tzaddik[3].

What was the great quality of being rebuked by a great man that caused the Bene Gad and Reuven to bear such stinging rebuke?  The Gemara tells us that the curses of the Prophet Achiya HaShiloni to the Jewish people were greater than the blessings with which Bilaam blessed them[4]. This idea is based on a passuk in Mishle: “The blows of a beloved one are trustworthy, and the kisses of an enemy are damaging[5].”  The ‘blows’ delivered by one’s beloved refers to words of rebuke.  The rebuke of someone who genuinely cares about his friend is of great benefit and is a great kindness because it is aimed at helping him improve himself and his spiritual standing.  When the Bene Gad and Reuven heard Moshe rebuke them, they knew that he was doing so from the purest of motives and only had their best interests in mind.  Thus, even though they could defend themselves, it was worthwhile to hear his words and try to somehow grow from them.   We have seen how the rebuke of a tzaddik is of great value, however it seems that even the tochacha of a less righteous person can be of considerable benefit.  Moreover, even rebuke that is given in the wrong way, can still help someone tremendously.  The Sefer HaChinuch writes that the prohibition to take revenge is based on the concept that whatever happens to a person is directed by G-d.  Even if someone acted towards a person in a negative fashion, it is nevertheless fruitless to bear a grudge or take revenge because the pain caused would not have occurred had Hashem so desired[6].  Thus, when we hear criticism, that we perceived as given in a hurtful way, our response should be to pay attention to the truth in what is being said, and not to the failings of the rebuker who is saying it. Since achieving moral and ethical perfection is the ultimate goal that we all should strive to accomplish, we can view this rebuke was sent from G-d as a means of communicating that we should strive to change our ways.   Shlomo HaMelech makes a similar point in Mishle [7]: “Hear advice and accept rebuke so that you will become wise in your latter days.”  It is interesting to note that with regard to advice, we are told to ’hear’, whereas in relation to rebuke we should ’accept it’.  Hearing implies an element of thought and contemplation[8]. When a person is given advice he should think about it before he acts upon it.  In contrast when one is rebuked he should accept it without analyzing the validity of the rebuke; rather, he should view it as a message from Hashem to improve himself and act accordingly.   Rav Moshe Feinstein zt”l excelled in his reaction towards incorrect rebuke.  On one occasion, he answered the phone only to be met with a barrage of criticism from someone who was incensed at one of his halachic rulings.  He patiently listened to the tirade until it ended and did not even try to defend himself.  A shocked student asked him why he did not respond to such an inappropriate rebuke.  He answered that he so rarely receives any rebuke that he was grateful for the opportunity to hear such strong words, and even though in this specific area the rebuke was unfounded, there must be some other area where he could improve himself and he should use the rebuke to improve in that area![9]   On another occasion Rav Moshe was rebuked for a perceived transgression.  He answered the rebuke in a teshuva that is found in Igrot Moshe[10].  He begins the teshuva saying: I was very happy that maalat kevodo was so zealous in fulfilling the mitzva of rebuke according to his understanding, and chas veshalom that I should be upset at this… bli neder I will no longer travel in a car during the time of candle lighting [11] even though there is absolutely no prohibition in it, and there is not even maarit ayiin.”[12] After completely refuting the arguments of the rebuker he ends, saying, “from his beloved who blesses him with the merit of the mitzva of rebuke that he did for the honor of Hashem Yitbarach and for the honor of Shabbat Kodesh..”   It is understandable that most people are not on the level of Rav Feinstein and the Sfat Emet and do not enjoy being rebuked; it is unpleasant be told that one has a character flaw or acted in an improper fashion.  However, if a person can move past the feelings of pain he experiences and tries to learn from the rebuke then he can transform it into a tremendous tool for growth and can use it to be a better Eved Hashem.

_________________________________________    [1] We may ask how the Chiddushe Harim could rebuke his grandson in front of other people. The Rambam answers that there are occasions when it is permissible to rebuke others in public, his proof being that the Neviim consistently rebuked individuals in public.

  [2] Mattot Ch.32.

  [3] Marbitse Torah MeOlam Hachassidut, quoted in Tallele Orot, Bamibar, 2nd Chelek, p.281.

  [4] Taanit 20a.

  [5] Mishle 27:6

  [6] Sefer HaChinuch Mitzva 241.

  [7] Mishle 19:20.

  [8] See the commentaries at the beginning of Parshat Yitro who explain Yitro’s hearing in this vein.

  [9] Heard from a talmid chacham in the name of a witness to the incident.

  [10] Orach Chaim 1st Chelek, Siman 96.

  [11] See the teshuva for details of the exact rebuke and how Rav Moshe replied.

  [12] Maarit ayin is a category of prohibition whereby a person is performing a permissible act but that an onlooker could easily construe it as forbidden with damaging consequences.

Le Iluy nishmat Eliahu ben Simcha, Mordechai ben Shlomo, Perla bat Simcha, Abraham Meir ben Leah, Moshe ben Gila,Yaakov ben Gila, Sara bat Gila, Yitzchak ben Perla, Leah bat Chavah, Abraham Meir ben Leah,Itamar Ben Reb Yehuda, Yehuda Ben Shmuel Tzvi, Tova Chaya bat Dovid.

Refua Shelema of Mazal Tov bat Gila, Zahav Reuben ben Keyla, Yitzchak ben Mazal Tov, Mattitiahu Yered ben Miriam, Yaacov ben Miriam, Yehuda ben Simcha, Menachem Chaim ben Malka, Naftali Dovid ben Naomi Tzipora, Nechemia Efraim ben Beyla Mina, Mazal Tov Rifka bat Yitzchak, Rachel Simcha bat Yitzchak, Dvir ben Leah, Sender ben Sara, Eliezer Chaim ben Chaya Batya, Shlomo Yoel ben Chaya Leah and Dovid Yehoshua ben Leba Malka. Atzlacha and parnasa tova to Daniel ben Mazal Tov, Debora Leah Bat Henshe Rachel, Shmuel ben Mazal tov, Yitzchak ben Mazal Tov, Yehuda ben Mazal Sara and Zivug agun to Gila bat Mazal Tov, Naftali Dovid ben Naomi Tzipora, Yehudit bat Malka, Elisheva bat Malka. For pidyon hanefesh & yeshua of Yosef Itai ben Eliana Shufra.

[itamarbdor]

Wind (Movement) Increases Fire (Excitement)

With siyata d’shmaya, we are continuing to learn about the element of earth and the trait of sadness. We are now up to discussing sadness that comes from wind-of-fire-of-earth.

Fire is an excitable element. A fire will burst out like an explosive, dance around, and spread further. Besides for the many other properties that fire possesses, it is an element that symbolizes passion and excitement.

The element of wind can increase the fire’s strength by blowing it, causing the fire to increase and spread. The Gemara discusses a case where a person lit a fire which was then blown on by the wind, which caused the fire to spread further. Wind “blows” on fire and then spreads it further. Whether the wind is particularly strong and uncommon, or even if it is a minimal amount of wind that is more common, the wind will blow on the fire and spread it further. When a wind spreads fire, it also increases the size of the fire.

This is “wind”-of-fire: when fire is blown upon by wind, which causes the fire to increase. In terms that apply to the soul, wind-of-fire is when person becomes excited and passionate about something due to his element of fire, and the excitement expands whenever he has a lot of inner “movement” (wind) in the soul.

Becoming Excitable In Action, Speech, and Thought

There are three “garments” of the soul: action, speech and thought. A person may become passionate in any of these three areas [and as a result of the increase excitement, he may drain his energy in the process, causing him to feel fatigued and, to a certain degree, sad. This sadness comes from wind-of-fire-of-earth].

When one acts very quickly, he will also excite himself. When one speaks excitedly and with passion, as in the verse, “My soul leaves when I speak with him”, the passionate talking will also place him in an increased state of excitement. Or, when one thinks “passionately” about something and he is very excited about what he’s thinking about – such as when one is thinking deeply into something and he is concentrating heavily on it, because he is very involved with the thought – he is “blowing” on his “fire”, and he becomes more excited in the process.

One example that illustrates all of the above is when a person becomes involved in machlokes (strife). The Sages said the fire of Gehinnom, which Hashem created on the second day of Creation, is the same “fire of machlokes”. It is clear to all that machlokes acts very much like a fire. In a machlokes, the people involved will become passionate in their differences with others, they become divided from others, the machlokes spreads, and it causes destruction - all the traits of fire.

When a person a person does certain actions that cause machlokes, he increases the machlokes, “blowing” on the fire that is already burning. We can all see that there are many people who become involved in machlokes, all kinds of groups and sects who clash with each other, who will do different actions which excite the fire of the machlokes further. This is an example of wind-of-fire expressed in the area of action: The machlokes itself is the fire, and the action that a person does to increase the machlokes is the “wind” that excites the fire and increases it.

When a person speaks about a machlokes with others, this also increases the machlokes. In the physical world, a person can blow on a fire and spread it either through waving his hand, or through blowing with the air (wind) of his mouth. So too, a person ‘blows’ on the fire of machlokes either through his ‘hand’ – through doing certain actions that increase the machlokes – or through blowing with his ‘mouth’, by speaking about the machlokes with others.

A person can also ‘blow’ on the fire of machlokes through thought. When one thinks about the machlokes and he feels heavily involved with it, in his mind and heart, he is also increasing the machlokes. The “fire of machlokes” increases with the more that one’s thoughts are heavily involved in it, either from spending a lot of time thinking about it, or from thinking deeply into it, imagining and daydreaming about it, and thereby becoming more attached with it. One’s thoughts about the machlokes will excite the machlokes further.

Similarly, when people have hatred towards each other, they will often think about this hatred and become more excitable about it, which only serves to increase the hatred. This is wind-of-fire: when one ‘blows’ on “fire”, by becoming more excited about the fire and increasing the fire further.

Heavy Emotion/Excitement Causes Loss of Energy

Excitement comes from the element of fire, and it can either be coming from either a good, repaired place in the soul, or it can be coming from an impaired place in the soul. However, in either case, whenever one uses the fire\excitement in his soul, he can feel weak afterwards. This is true even if it was a “fire of holiness”, such as when a person becomes overly joyous at a wedding or happy occasion. He becomes so excited from joy that he forgets he needs to go to sleep, as a result of the excitement that has overtaken him.

Whenever a person has an increased amount of excitement, or great joy, as well as when they feel pressured or stressed, it can cause a person to feel drained from physical energy. Their soul is being exhausted, because they are using up a lot of energy in the soul, as a result of the excitement in their emotional state. Just as the body becomes exhausted when one uses up a lot of physical energy, so does the soul grow exhausted from using a lot of the soul’s energies, by becoming very excited and passionate about something.

While a person is actually excited, such as in a time of joy, he gains more spiritual strength, but he is physically draining his energy, and he may not be consciously aware of it. Or, he may be aware of it, but his strength is able to remain with him because he is in a state of enlightenment. But eventually, when excitement dies down, he is left physically drained – it finally ‘hits him’, and he becomes utterly exhausted.

Movement, whether physical or internal (in the soul, such as excitement or heavy emotion) cause a person to use up energy and then feel drained afterwards. When the soul goes through much inner movement (excitement/emotion), it uses up energy when different powers of the soul are activated from their potential state, causing the soul to feel drained from energy afterwards. This also wears down the body, because the soul is connected with the body.

The Sadness That Can Follow After Extreme Joy or Excitement

Here is another example.

At a very joyous event, such as when a father is marrying off a son or daughter, he can be so happy at the wedding and dance with euphoria, to the point that he feels like he transcends all physical reality, as if there is no pain, no problems, and no worries in existence. (Of course, this doesn’t mean that he won’t experience any arguments or feuding at the celebration, for Chazal state “There is no kesubah which does not contain discord”). After the wedding, he is exhausted, because he has used up so much energy in his soul. After all, it takes a lot of energy from the soul to feel so happy! Now he needs a lot of sleep to “get over” everything that happened. In additional to simple rest which he needs, he also feels like he to rest because he is simply emotionally drained from the wedding, and he might be sleepy for the next 2 or 3 days.

When a person feels drained of his joy and vitality, he will experience the very opposite of joy and vitality: sadness, and a deathlike feeling. The great joy is no longer here, and in addition to this, there is a lingering sense of sadness that follows. But the sadness will be even more pronounced if a person used up a tremendous amount of energy in his soul, without pause. He will feel afterwards as if he has been emptied, and this leads him into a state of sadness.

Similarly, there are some people who get depressed after every Yom Tov is over. After the joy of Yom Tov has gone, one might feel saddened at the disappearance of this joy that he had felt on Yom Tov. After Shabbos as well, which is not a time of “joy” but rather a time of oneg/pleasure, a person is also apt to fall into sadness, as the Sages state, that the soul becomes sad on Motzei Shabbos because it mourns the disappearance of the Shabbos. When one uses up his soul’s energies and he feels emptied, he feels like he has dried up in his soul and he can become sad. This is wind-of-fire-of-earth. It is the sadness that follows after extreme excitement, vitality, and joy. The person goes from a state of joy into a state of sadness.

Exhaustion That Results From Extremity

Even more so, we find that there are some people who are drawn towards an extreme way of living, or extreme ideals or opinions, which ultimately drains them of their energy, because they are acting above their soul’s natural capabilities, which causes them to use up a lot more energy than their souls can handle.

While some people act extreme because they are pursuing the truth – there are very few people like this – there are some who will act extreme, live an extreme kind of lifestyle, and advocate strongly for extreme ideals and beliefs, and this is how they arrive at joy. They do not find joy in the regular routine of life – they have to do extreme things in order to feel joyous and happy with themselves. These kinds of people have a nature in their soul which is naturally drawn towards extremity, and it is simply their personality, not because they seek truth.

People can form all kinds of extreme opinions, when they have a nature that gravitates towards extremities. Even if a person strictly adheres to a Torah way of living, he might pick a certain path in Torah which is more extreme than [the mainstream way of living of the rest of the generation], if he has a more extreme kind of personality.

When people become extreme, often it is because there is something very wrong in their life. Every person will naturally stay at the “middle point”, at the center between the two extremes (more or less), but a person might move away from the “middle point” when he is facing issues there, and run away to any of the two extremes that are far from the middle point. But many times, people become extreme and they form extreme ideals and opinions because they have a personality that is drawn towards extremity. They will pursue a certain idea with all of their energy.

When this problem manifests in one’s Avodas Hashem, a person may spend all of his energy on davening, praying for many hours and with deep concentration, then at a later point he will spend all of his energy on his Torah learning and learn until he feels completely exhausted, and at a later point, he will spend all of his energy on the mitzvah of honoring his parents. While this can also come from a desire for shleimus (self-perfection), often it is not coming from this reason, and it is rather coming from a personality that leans towards extremes.

Even when it comes to simple matters, such as going shopping in order to buy items for the house, he is the type to purchase way more than the necessary amount for the house, as long as he feels that it is important to do so. Since he easily becomes extreme, he is not balanced. When one has the above nature, he will think in terms of extremes, spending a great amount of time and energy in what he believes to be important, exhausting his energy over it, and then feeling emptied afterwards from energy.

Usually, what will happen when a person acts extreme? He is not acting according to his natural energies. He wears himself out, and he doesn’t do anything about the problem until he becomes desperate (when “the waters have come up to his soul”.) He will keep putting his focus on different areas, whether it’s concentrating on a berachah, on his tefillos, on his Torah learning, etc. until he becomes drained from all his energy, before moving onto the next area. In each area, he exhausts all of his energies until he is drained. He keeps becoming emptied of his energy.

On a deeper level, this power is called mesirus nefesh (great perseverance of the soul for a true cause), and this is a valid approach for a person to take. However, acting with mesirus nefesh is only constructive for one who first has yishuv hadaas (a calm, settled mind), who is also prepared to have deep bittul (self-nullification) in the situation. Only then can a person become truly dedicated to what he does. But if a person is not acting out of the deep power of mesirus nefesh, but of a personality that comes from the nefesh habehaimis (animal soul) that leans towards extremity, he will become emptied from energy.

There are people who live all the time in this way, because it is their very nature to act extreme and spend all of their energy. This follows with sadness. Yet, a person with this nature will keep acting this way, going through a cycle of joy and excitement that follows with loss of energy and then depression. He’ll make sure to “get some chizuk” (inspiration) to get himself out of the depression, so that can he get back into his excitement mode, whereupon he repeats the vicious cycle.

In summary, it has been explained here three different examples of how a person “blows” on his “fire” (excitement) and thereby increases it. One example was when a person excites a machlokes. Another example was when a person excites himself either through action, speech, or thought. Another example is when one has a personality that leans towards extremity, which causes him to excite himself (to the point that he becomes exhausted from using up so much energy).

Balancing Our Excitement

First we will discuss the solution for the first example mentioned, which is when a person “blows” on his fire/excitement and thereby increase it (wind-of-fire).

Understandably, excitement is a positive aspect of human nature which is necessary. The Mesillas Yesharim says that one needs to reach the state of “excitement of the neshamah (soul)”. However, excitement needs to be balanced. We need to make sure that it is true excitement of the neshamah, and not the imagination. We can use excitement and inspiration from external factors as a way to get started with something, but it should never become the general approach. Also, even when do make use of excitement, it should be in accordance with the natural energy of our physical body, as well as in accordance with the capabilities of our soul.

In many people, their excitement is not coming from the neshamah, but a superficial kind of excitement that comes from the physical body, or the animal level of the soul (nefesh habehaimis). But excitement needs to be in accordance with our soul’s natural energies, as well as with our natural physical energy. If a person wants to excite himself and he knows that this will take his toll on his energy afterwards, he should make sure not to overstep his boundaries, so that he doesn’t lose his balance with becoming overly excited.

For example, if a person is davening and he knows that he is able to greatly excite himself by thinking certain thoughts or by moving his body in a certain way, what is wrong if he does so? If this excitement is superficial and it is not in accordance with his soul’s natural level, it will only throw him off balance. If he knows that is the case, he should refrain from exciting himself to that point. The same is true if he knows that his excitement during davening will make him feel physically exhausted afterwards – it is a sign that he shouldn’t engage himself into such excitement.

Mitigating Exhaustion – Through Remaining Attached to the Joy or Excitement

Now we will speak of the solution for the second example given, which is the excitement that is activated through passionate action, speech or thought.

When a person becomes greatly excited and later he becomes exhausted and emptied from energy, there are two different possibilities in front of him, as he is amidst this “drained” state. If he is connected to the joy, he may be physically weak, but his soul is still very much active, because he can remain joyous. Although the joy isn’t as great as it was before, one can remain attached to some of the joy, excitement, or whatever positive state one achieved (even though one cannot have it now completely), and in that way, he is not truly emptied.

This can save one from the sadness that would normally follow in this situation. For if a person feels truly emptied both in body and soul, he will be sad, but if he can remain attached to the joy or excitement he experienced, he is not totally emptied from energy in his soul (in spite of the fact that he does feel exhausted).The soul can also provide energy to the body. Even if the body is weak and one feels physically exhausted, one can remain connected to the joy that he experienced, and in this way, his soul can give some energy to his body.

Here is another example of the idea. A young father with children goes to sleep, tired and exhausted from the day, and he is hoping to good a good night’s sleep so he can be well-rested for the next day. In the middle of the night, he gets woken up by the baby, or by one of the children. He wakes up to take care of the crying child, giving to the child whatever is needed, until the child falls asleep and he can crawl back into his bed. When he gets up in the morning, he feels like he could use another night’s sleep again. He is tired and exhausted from the night before and now there is a whole day in front of him, and he knows he will be sleep-deprived. How does he react to his feeling of exhaustion?

He has two options in front of him. Either he can think to himself that he didn’t get enough sleep, he’s exhausted, he feels like he has no energy – and of course, this makes him sad. Or, he can remind himself that he took care of his child at night and tended to the child with love. So even though he’s physically tired, his soul can still remain with joy, and in that way, he won’t feel completely emptied of energy.

Often when people use up a lot of energy and they become tired afterwards, they have nothing to hold onto when they feel exhausted, so they feel completely from energy. For example, a person puts a lot of energy into his davening and when he is done, he feels utterly drained. All of his elation has been in his imagination, and now he is emptied from energy, so he can be easily sad. He thinks of whatever he is left with, and he feels like has nothing of the davening now. He feels empty, after all of the excitement he put in. Instead, one can remind himself of the joy and elation he had when he was davening, and in that way, he will not feel completely emptied.

So the idea is that one should always remain with some attachment to the joy or excitement, and in this way, he doesn’t become completely emptied of energy, even amidst his exhaustion. As mentioned, when one awakens some energy in his soul, this can also give some energy to the physical body (for the body and soul are interconnected), and although the soul cannot completely revitalize an exhausted body, it can still provide it with some energy, which greatly mitigates the physical exhaustion. This saves a person from the sadness that follows after exhaustion, because a person becomes sad only when he feels completely emptied from energy, so if he doesn’t feel completely emptied right now, he can remain connected somewhat to the previous excitement.

Repairing Sadness That Results From Extremity (Earth-of-Wind-of-Fire)

Now we will address the solution for the third issue discussed: people who become sad from excitement because they have a very extreme kind of personality.

People who have this “extreme” leaning in their personality will usually have a lot of issues in their life. This is a broad issue to discuss. As mentioned earlier, they are not necessarily acting out of mesirus nefesh. Their souls contain an imbalance, by their very nature.

Most people with this kind of personality have constantly alternating periods of highs and lows in their life. They can be very excited and successful one day, then they drain themselves of energy, until they become emptied, which makes them become terribly depressed. There can be many reasons for this, but usually it is because they base their life on excitement and passion, which is a fundamentally incorrect way of living. When they become exhausted after their excitement and they feel low on energy, they often feel like their life is pointless. This comes from the emptiness that they feel, after they have finishing using it all up.

Their extreme nature causes them to make heavy use of wind-of-fire. When they become extreme in their excitement and later they feel emptied of energy, they fall very quickly into a state of sadness. Their very way of living is immature and imbalanced, due to being constantly emptied of their energy.

In order for such a person to repair this issue, we cannot recommend any specific exercise. Rather, this kind of person will need to change fundamentally, making a huge overhaul in the very inner structure of his soul, so that he can come out of his imbalanced nature.

To describe it briefly, he will need to build his element of earth so that he gains more stability in his personality, and he will also need to build a healthy source of pleasure (water) in his life, so that he doesn’t need to turn to any extremities in order to find life pleasurable. In this way, he develops his element of “water” properly which will balance out his “fire”, and he develops his “earth” which can balance out his “wind”.

Usually, however, people with this kind of personality have “lives that are not lives”. They prefer a more explosive kind of life, which fuels their nature that loves extremity and excitement. This issue is really a broader matter that we cover here completely, and here we have only mentioned it here with specific regards to the matter we are discussing here, which is the sadness that results from wind-of-fire-of-earth.

In short, we have explained in this lesson about the sadness of wind-of-fire-of-earth and how to repair it.

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[thelifeandtimesofyoungkeni]

Sometimes you see that you have been trying to tell your father that you aren't working out with yourself. At times like this, You look up to your father and ask, Father, why do I cry? and why do I laugh? and why do I scream ? and let myself apart? Why does the pain sting the soul as a whole? And why does the happiness of being grows no more? Your father is silent, his arm around your neck weighing. He is saying a lot but you are not hearing. His actions are mundane and you demand words. His actions are mundane and you demand answers. You give up. He doesn't. He goes back to reading the newspaper in the sunlight he has allowed to enter the room, hoping you know the answers you are searching for. You go back to the way you were before asking the question. Cleaning out the attic is hard at times. Same as answering the question, 'Just like your father, huh?' --------------------------------------------------- things you save for your deathbed by tejas anton keni. art by Mel Tov via @ask__the__dust --------------------------------------------------- #poem #poemsofinstagram #emotions #poemoftheday #poets #poetsofinstagram #heartwarming #words #wordporn #TJ #writer #thewordbloodus #writersofinstagram #potd