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rachellesedai · 18 days ago

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The Seeker's Prayer

Here is part two of my story for the @inklings-challenge 2024!

Team: Lewis Genre: Space Travel Themes: Instruct the ignorant/Pray for living and dead Word Count: 3,229 [PART 1] | 3,839 [PART 2]

PART 2

Zavion awoke with a start, his datapad on his chest. A yellow blinking light indicated its power cell was drained. How long had he been asleep? The lights in the reading room were at a dim glow. The room was silent apart from the ever present soft whirr of the server banks. He stretched aching muscles and staggered to his feet. Carefully, he secured the manuscript he had requested, returning it to stasis. With a yawn, he gathered his few belongings and took a step toward the curtained entrance of the alcove. A flurry of urgent whispers anchored him to the spot. Shuffling footsteps followed a hushed exchange too low for him to make out. He peered out between the curtains and saw two emissaries with hoods drawn up hurrying down the hall.

Zavion watched as they approached a transportlift across the wide passage and entered a complex code. Zavion waited a long moment after the two had entered the lift and departed. He should really go back to his quarters and go to bed. Morning and another day of filing plastisheets would be here all too soon. With a sigh, Zavion walked over to the lift. He knew a mystery such as this would keep him awake for whatever was left of the night.

Thanks to a long afternoon helping Emissary Ilana Karri repair several malfunctioning transportlifts, he knew the admin code to recall the last destination. His hand trembled slightly as he punched in the code and entered the lift. His stomach dropped as the module descended swiftly, plunging deep into the mountain. The doors slid open onto a dark stone corridor that curved slightly to the left, making any guess to where it led impossible. The light from the lift cast a weak glow, but there was no other source of illumination. Zavion hesitated. He dug through his pockets and found his small reading light. Switching it on, he took a deep breath and entered the corridor. The lift slid shut behind him and he was alone in the dark.

Zavion reached out and placed one hand on the wall next to the lift. Holding his light high with his other hand, he followed the curve of the passage, winding ever deeper into the depths below the library. Voices brought him to a halt and he extinguished his light, feeling his way along until he could see a small group clustered in a large, open gallery carved out of the rock.

The central figure was reciting something, words that sent a tremor through him even before he recognized them. The man was speaking in High Dakari, a language only found in the Empire’s oldest records and no longer spoken by any living race. Zavion had studied it, like every serious scholar, but he had never expected to hear it outside of classroom recitations.

Translating in his head, he recognized a few familiar phrases. It was the Canticle of Avrum spoken in high chant, but a longer, more complex version than any he had ever heard. The ancient prayer was attributed to the Blessed Prophet himself. Its chief importance was in it being the oldest record of the Order’s mandate to spread throughout the galaxy and seek new species.

Zavion shook his head. What was going on here? Why were these emissaries meeting in the middle of the night? He edged closer. The rock wall was cool on his skin as he pressed against it. The chanting trailed off and silence reined for a few moments. Zavion held his breath.

A robed figure stood and raised his hands. “Let us pray together,” he said. Zavion held in a gasp. He knew that voice. Narrowing his eyes, he strained to make out details. It had to be Steward Ebrim. The man’s build was right and the voice was unmistakable. The group knelt on the hard ground and began to speak in turn. They were calling out to the creator, asking for his help, praising his goodness.

Zavion put a hand to his mouth. This was more than just a few brother emissaries being a little too obsessed with tradition. This could actually be a resurgence of the ancient Cult of the Seekers. Indignation and disbelief warred within him. The group started singing, a haunting melody that echoed off the walls of the corridor. He turned and fled. The last thing he wanted was to be caught spying by a group of fanatics.

Safe back in his quarters, Zavion paced the room. The situation was unheard of. What was he supposed to do? Reporting the aberration would definitely get him the transfer he wanted. Zavion flushed, ashamed of the thought as soon as it formed. He took a deep breath and tried to reconcile what he had seen with what he knew of the emissaries he had met since coming to Karatu.

Whatever their religious inclinations, the people here were good. Perhaps a little boring and scholarly for his taste, but they were certainly not rebels fomenting an overthrow of the Empire. He did not want to cause a scandal and throw the entire library into turmoil. Who knew how many reputations would be destroyed or how much scholarly work discredited?

“As long as I don’t let on I know their secret everything will be fine,” Zavion said to himself, “No one knows I saw anything. I’ll forget it ever happened.” With this decision made, Zavion changed into his nightclothes, climbed into bed, and proceeded to think about nothing else.

Zavion almost jumped out of his skin the next morning when Davix clapped his hand on his shoulder as he picked at the sweet bread he had brought back to the table for morning meal.

“Where were you last night?” Davix asked.

“What?” Zavion almost choked on a crumb of sweet bread, his mouth suddenly dry. “I wasn’t anywhere. Why?”

“We were going to play a game of stones before nightfall, but you weren’t in your rooms.” He laughed. “You weren’t poking around parts of the library you shouldn’t, were you?”

Zavion shook his head, his heart racing as he feigned what he hoped looked like casual indifference. “Nothing so interesting. I fell asleep in the reading room. I’m afraid I was much more concerned with Ebrim catching me out after curfew and quite forgot about our game.”

Davix shrugged. “No matter. We can try again tonight.” He paused, as if he were going to ask something else, but only shook his head and departed. Zavion breathed a sigh of relief, but the feeling didn’t last long. His datapad beeped and Zavion looked to find a message from Steward Ebrim asking him to report to his study after morning meal.

Zavion disposed of the sweet bread, unable to eat another bite and drank down the last of his hot caf. He set the cup down with a trembling hand and forced himself to walk calmly to the steward’s study. Once there, Zavion knocked and waited for the man’s soft “enter” before opening the door.

Steward Ebrim sat at his desk, rifling through papers. He did not look up as Zavion entered, but continued to sort through the large stack of documents in front of him. Zavion stood straight, sweaty hands tightening into fists inside the sleeves of his robe.

“Sit,” Ebrim finally said, “I assume you have some questions.”

“About what?” Zavion stammered, folding himself into the chair opposite Ebrim.

“Don’t play me for the fool, my boy,” Ebrim said with a sharp look that seem to pin Zavion like a fly caught in a spider’s gaze, “I know you were there last night, in the catacombs.”

Zavion slumped. “How?”

“I take care to erase all record of our comings and goings on evenings like last night. An extra lift transport with your borrowed admin code was a bit obvious.”

“Oh.” Zavion sucked in a breath. He stared at Ebrim, who looked back calmly as if they were discussing an interesting point in a text they were translating. “Why?” he blurted out, “Why risk so much?”

Ebrim sighed. “A strong desire to know the truth and live accordingly.” He raised an eyebrow, his ears drooping as Zavion’s mouth fell open.

“What truth? There is no scientific proof that the creator exists. Even if it is the tradition of our Order to attribute our mandate to the Prophet Avrum, no one actually believes he communed with an all-powerful creator.”

“You’d be surprised,” Ebrim said, “The number of people who do believe is precisely why what you witnessed last night is so dangerous. I half expected the Matori to be on our doorstep this morning.”

Zavion blinked at his mention of the Empire’s elite shock troops. “The Matori?” He almost laughed, but the sound died in his throat at the sobering look in Ebrim’s eyes. “The situation might merit academic censure… a review of the participants work, perhaps…” he trailed off.

Ebrim shook his head. “To the Empire, the Seekers, beings throughout the galaxy who believe in the original mission of Avrum, are a real and present threat. They give no quarter when eradicating any who sympathize with our beliefs.”

Zavion took a shuddering breath. “Do you advocate overthrowing the Empress?”

“No.” Ebrim straightened. “We would like the truth to come out, of course, but mostly we want to be able to worship the Creator in peace.”

Zavion grasped his head in his hands. “What truth?” he almost shouted.

Ebrim tapped his fingers on the desk, his eyes narrowing. “I suppose it will do no harm to tell you at this point.” He leaned forward. “What we are taught about early galactic history is the barest outline of the events surrounding the foundation of the Empire. What most do not know is that we possess an abundance of records, both from that time period and the centuries following its early expansion.”

Zavion shook his head, the scholar within him offended that the texts he had spent so much time looking for might actually exist somewhere. “Why would the Empire suppress such knowledge?”

“Because it does not fit their narrative of how they gained supremacy. It is true that Avrum lived on Dakardr and his brother, Lexrun, was a leader of their people. However, Lexrun was only a prominent figure in what was a cooperative government of the planets orbiting the star, Alestria. It was Avrum who was held in high regard, even in the neighboring star systems. His writings were carefully preserved by his followers, the original emissaries. These men went out and spread the word of Avrum, which was a message of hope and a quest for something more.

As belief in the Creator spread, the Order became more established. They kept records on every species they encountered and soon had amassed more knowledge than any individual planet or system possessed. At first, they were consulted as intermediaries when disputes broke out between different groups. Systems came together, some more powerful than others. Dynasties rose and fell, but the Order remained. Then about six hundred years after the time of Avrum, the leaders of Dakardr decided that since their planet held all the knowledge, they should also hold all the power. Some among the emissaries agreed and allowed the government to use their knowledge of all the other species to conquer them.

As Dakardr’s power grew, the Order was relegated to a supporting role, and, as governments are wont to do, its ruling cooperative devolved into tyranny and the first true Emperor of Alestria was crowned.”

Zavion rubbed his forehead, trying to absorb this radically different version of what he held to be the history of his people. “Even if this is true, if the Empire’s rise to power wasn’t as clean and simple as most think, what does that have to do with your belief in the creator? How does it change the historical fact that Avrum was simply a wise man who brought people together and encouraged them to respect each species’ culture as adding to, instead of taking away from, their own?”

“Because the Empire hid more than its dubious beginnings,” Ebrim said, slapping his desk, “They suppressed the writings of Avrum himself, which give a completely different perspective on what our Order originally believed and what our very purpose is.”

“And what purpose is that? What are you seeking?”

Ebrim shook his head. “I’ve said enough. Much more and you won’t be able to claim ignorance.” He paused, his ears twitching. “What do you intend to do?”

Zavion blinked. “Do?”

“Are you going to report us to the Empire? I understand if you feel it your duty, but I hope I have gained enough respect in your eyes that you would inform me of your intentions.”

“I would never…” Zavion stammered, “I don’t agree with what you are doing, but I see no need to involve the Matori.”

“Very well.” Ebrim eyed him with interest. “I would ask you not to tell anyone about what we have discussed here or what you saw last night.”

Zavion stood and gave the steward a formal bow. “I give you my word,” he said, “but…” he paused, looking away, “May I ask more questions at a later date?”

“Of course,” Ebrim said, a hint of a smile in his eyes. “For now, you should get back to work. It wouldn’t do for today to seem any more unusual.”

Zavion nodded and left the study, his head in a whirl.

Zavion completed his daily routine, meticulously proofing plastisheets, packing them up for transport, and joining two other emissaries to help prepare the evening meal. He attended to each task with a laser focus that blocked out all other thoughts. He was beginning to think he might actually be able to proceed as if everything were normal when Davix showed up at his door for their game of stones.

Zavion pulled his only other chair over to his desk and Davix set up the pieces on the checkered board. They played a few moves in silence, Zavion losing two pieces to a careless mistake.

Davix eyed him as he collected the two white stones. “Head not in the game tonight?”

“I’m just tired,” Zavion replied.

Davix pushed an upright gray stone forward. “You were closeted with Steward Ebrim for quite a while this morning,” he said with a studied indifference.

The hairs on the back of Zavion’s arms stood on end. The statement seemed too pointed to be coincidental. He shrugged, moving an oval pearlescent stone to counter Davix’s move. “He found out I’ve been looking into a transfer.”

“You’ve been begging anyone who will listen,” Davix laughed. “Was he extolling the virtues of the library and the importance of the old ways?”

Zavion nodded, wondering what he meant by old ways. Did he suspect just how traditional Ebrim’s beliefs were? “It’s not that I don’t think it’s important,” Zavion said, trying to sound as annoyed as usual, “It’s just not for me.”

Davix nodded slowly, returning his attention to the game and Zavion’s shoulders relaxed. He was being paranoid. There was no double meaning behind his friend’s comment. He just needed a good night’s sleep and everything would go back to normal.

The next day was anything but normal. Zavion awoke to the entire library buzzing like an overturned skimmet’s nest. The great hall was deserted, plates of half-finished meals left abandoned, chairs pushed out or toppled over. Emissaries rushed to and fro down the passageways. Some gathered in tiny knots of heated conversation, others carried large satchels of belongings as if they were leaving on foot. Not a few glared at him when he tried to approach.

Panic rising in his chest, Zavion hurried to Steward Ebrim’s study. The door was ajar. He pushed it open to find Ebrim vaporizing a small pile of plastisheets.

“What is happening?” Zavion demanded from the doorway.

Ebrim’s eyes snapped up. “Oh. It’s you,” he said, waving Zavion forward, “I was about to come looking for you.”

“What?” Zavion’s knees wobbled as he made his way forward and grasped the back of the chair he had occupied the morning before.

“The Matori are coming,” Ebrim said, his voice crisp and matter of fact, “They will be here by nightfall.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Zavion stammered, his grip tightening until his knuckles whitened.

“I know,” Ebrim replied, “Which is why I wanted to speak to you. I need you to do something for me.”

Zavion nodded, his throat tightening on the millions of questions that flooded his mind. “Of course,” he choked out, “What do you need me to do?”

“Take this.” Ebrim removed the Star of Avrum from around his neck and held it out to Zavion. He accepted with trembling hands.

“I don’t understand.”

“Switch it with yours,” Ebrim said, turning back to his desk, “No one will notice. They are all identical to the naked eye.”

Zavion did as he was told. “What is special about this one?”

“It contains a data crystal with the writings of Avrum and the location of where we have hidden copies off all the ancient texts. That is what we have been doing here, preserving the knowledge before it is lost forever. If you find another Seeker pass it on, if not… Knowing the knowledge is out there will be enough.”

“Why are you trusting me with this?” Zavion swallowed. “And why can’t one of you take it out of here?”

Ebrim shook his head. “It is too late for that, my boy. The Matori will ferret out every last one of us. They will never suspect you, a fresh recruit who has been pestering every department imaginable for a transfer out of this ancient pile.” His eyes twinkled. “As for why I trust you…” Ebrim smiled, his ears perking up. “You have a good heart and you want to believe, I can feel it.”

Zavion held the pendant in both hands. “How do you know? That the Matori are coming,” he clarified.

“We intercepted a transmission late last night. It was the Ahiri.”

“Davix?” Zavion gasped. “It couldn’t be…” he faltered as he remembered his friend’s odd comments and the strange feeling he’d gotten the night before. His knees felt weak. “I don’t want to believe it,” he said, scrubbing at his eyes, “How could he betray you like that?”

“I told you. Most see the Seekers as subversives.” Ebrim shook his head. “Poor man, he probably felt he was doing his duty.” He sighed. “What’s done is done. Do not worry about him now. He is locked in his quarters where he can do no more harm.”

Zavion sank into the chair. “What are you going to do? Is there time for you to escape?”

“No. Some may try, but I am the Steward and the leader of our fellowship of Seekers. They will not rest until they find me.”

“What about me?” Zavion flushed, his cheeks hot. “Davix knows I have been spending a great deal of time under your tutelage.”

“Not enough,” Ebrim said, “There is so much I want to tell you, but there simply isn’t time. Remember this. We are seekers because we are looking for something.”

“What?” Zavion asked, leaning forward.

Ebrim shook his head. “There is too much to do. As for you, tell the Matori the truth about what you saw, even what I told you the next morning. Just keep what is in the star I gave you a secret. You will understand when you read it.” He put a firm hand on Zavion’s shoulder. “I pray that the Creator keep you safe.”

The next few hours played out much as Steward Ebrim had predicted. The Matori, fierce in their unadorned black armor descended upon the library, sealing exits and sequestering its inhabitants. No corner was left unchecked.

Zavion waited in his quarters, pacing up and down the small room. He had been questioned briefly, faring better than most, it seemed. Zavion shivered, unable to forget the screams that had echoed down the halls as he was escorted to his interview. He had done as Ebrim instructed, though shame had burned within him, fear had frozen it out. His rambling answers had satisfied the dour Matori, and he was sent back to his room like a naughty child. As he left, he had heard Davix’s name linked with his and the thought that the man had vouched for him made his stomach roil.

The next morning everyone was herded into the great hall. Zavion watched, a painful lump in his throat, as the Matori carted away racks of servers and cartons of stasis modules. His fellow emissaries were battered and bruised, some staring with vacant eyes, others openly weeping. Davix was nowhere to be seen.

A tall Matori with a red slash across his helmet strode into the room. “Bring forth the accused,” he bellowed.

Steward Ebrim and several other emissaries were marched in, their hands bound in flexicuffs. Zavion sucked in a breath. The prisoners all bore signs of a night spent enduring the Matori’s brutal interrogation methods. Bile rose as they were lined up against the wall.

This can’t be happening, Zavion thought. The tall Matori read something aloud about crimes against the Empire, but all Zavion heard was a high-pitched buzzing in his ears. The room seemed to spin and blur. The Matori raised their weapons. He couldn’t turn away.

Ebrim held his head high, his eyes still shining with cheerful confidence. He’s going to meet his creator, Zavion thought as weapons flashed and silence reigned.

Months passed before Zavion even dared to look at the data crystal. Finally given leave after his “ordeal,” he caught a ship home and trekked far out into the wooded wilderness beyond the tiny village he had hoped to never see again. Far from prying eyes, he spent several weeks translating the clue to the code to unlock the files. At last, with trembling hands, he accessed the writings of Avrum that Ebrim and the others had given their lives for.

In the stillness, I heard the Creator’s voice and he said, “Go and seek among the varied creatures of the cosmos. Make note of their stories and traditions, and in time you will find the blessed world, made holy by my hand. Its people I have anointed and have entrusted to them the truth that may know me and learn my ways. This sign I give to you, that you may know you have found my people. This blessed world is the single place in the vast universe where I, the Creator, entered into his own creation, spirit and matter, two natures, but one God.”

Zavion took a shuddering breath. He did not yet understand, but his heart was burning within his chest and he knew he wanted to believe. He wanted to know the Creator. He was a Seeker, like Ebrim. In a low whisper, he began to pray.

#inklingschallenge #team lewis #genre: space travel #theme: instruct #theme: pray #story: complete #rachel writes

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aisururozu · 11 months ago

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-*Aggressively opens up my trench-coat and flash bangs you with OC doodles*-

[ Avrum belongs to @monochrome-night ]

[ Bragi belongs to @sadfruittheatre ]

[ Brier belongs to @jazzystudios82 ]

[ Rosanna, Finn, Atticus, Scarlet and Cabernet belong to Me ]

—

#supreme kai #artists on tumblr #kaioshin #dragonballsuper #anime art #[[god these took me forever #AisuruArts🩷

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jazzystudios82 · 1 year ago

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Best Friends Shin and Avrum

An art trade I did with @monochrome-night

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#traditional art #anime aesthetic #sketchbook #arrtxart #dragon ball fanart #supreme kai #kaioshin #artists on tumblr #by jazzy 💖#jazzy's art 🎨#artists of tumblr #artists on instagram #color pencil

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noirs-mutual-art-reblogs · 1 year ago

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don't worry your not too heavy for me!

Tsuku belongs to @bunskero

Avrum belongs to me

#mutual's oc #avrum #dragon ball #dragon ball oc #fan art #bunskeroo #Tsuku #db #db oc #oc #kaioshin #supreme kai #the supreme kai

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freelancershahin · 7 months ago

Video

youtube

The Avrum Rosensweig Show

#The Avrum Rosensweig Show 73.2 115 vidIQ Avrum Rosensweig Show 117 vidIQ Rosensweig Show 42 vidIQ The Avrum Rosensweig 70 vidIQ ellen schwar

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the-lesser-light · 2 months ago

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So I feel like it's time to spread a little Jewish love, old school style!

Here's a little bit of history that I just found out about while researching something else!

Spotlight: Jewish Fighters!

From left: Bummy Davis and the wrestlers Max Krauser and Martin Levy.

Ever hear of a “Knak” (A hard punch), a “Shtaysl” (uppercut), and “Der gubernator” (Jabbing one’s thumb into a foe’s rib cage)? These are all Yiddish terms used for moves in boxing and wrestling.

Jews, who had been denied most labor jobs and limited to desk work or small jobs, were often seen as scrawny, small, and weak. The intense studious life of studying Torah and furthering their education also left them stereotyped as intellectual book nerds in glasses that would be knocked over in a gentle breeze.

What people don't think of is street smart men with fists of steel.

“[...] but there was always an element of the working class that was tough and street smart and worked with their hands and fought with their hands.” -(Eddy Portnoy, creating of the exhibit at Yivo Institute)

Let’s head back to the 1930s and 1940s when Jewish immigration from Russia and Europe was reaching a peak. Families fled the growing violence and antisemitism and their children faced a new world and the need to assimilate into this new culture.

Boxing became an escape that grew among the Jewish community and quickly gained popularity.

"Zionist and political organizations sponsored boxing and wrestling clubs, and after World War II there were boxing clubs in the refugee camps set up by the Allies."

Several became big names that became well known in most homes.

Jews became the dominating nationality in professional prizefighting during the 30s and 40s. There were 26 Jewish world champions!

Many wore the Star of David on their robes and trunks as a way to represent their Jewish heritage and defy Antisemitism.

Al "Bummy" Davis, born Albert Abraham Davidoff was born in Brooklyn. As a kid, he kept lookout for his father, who sold whiskey during prohibition.

He turned into one of the toughest kids in his area. While his brothers fell into work with the local gang, not even the gang would mess with him.

The name 'Bummy' was actually from his Hebrew nickname "Vroomeleh" given to him by his mother (diminutive of Avrum) that was picked up as Vroomy by his family and friends. Davis apparently was not really a fan of it.

He was known as one of the most powerful left hooks in boxing history and won many of his matches with a total knockout hit.

Max Krauser was born in Poland.

His family owned a tannery where he helped haul the animal skins around.

He went to college and majored in science until he attended a wrestling match at his college.

Randomly jumping into the ring, he defeated the German heavyweight and decided to become a professional wrestler.

His mentor was Zishe Breibart (I'll do a piece on him later), a famous strongman that was also Jewish and a hero to millions.

He quickly became a renowned wrestler throughout Europe where he was the Heavyweight wrestling champion from 1935-1938 until the political atmosphere became too much. He moved to Australia then eventually the USA in 1939,

In America, he was known as "Iron-Head Krauser".

Benny Leonard, born and raised in a Jewish Ghetto in Lower East Side Manhattan and son of Russian immigrants, held the world lightweight championship for eight years from 1917-1925! He later turned his boxing career into a film career. ("The Evil Eye" 1920, and "Flying Fists" 1924-25).

Barney Ross (Dov-Ber Rasofsky) was the Son of a Talmudic scholar who barely escaped a pogrom in Belarus. Once in New York, his father was a Rabbi and owner of a vegetable shop in Chicago. Barney became a Talmudic scholar with the goal to teach. When his father was murdered in a robbery, his mother suffered a breakdown, and his younger siblings were placed in orphanages, Barney fell out of religious practice but never lost his Jewish pride.

Barney started running with tough crowds in the ghetto and got into street brawling and running with Al Capone himself!

With the rise of Nazism and Hitler, Barney took a stance against antisemitism and embraced the fact that he was becoming a well known representative of the Jewish community. His song that played when he entered the ring was "My Yiddishe Momma".

He became a world champion in three weight divisions. He was never knocked out and held his title against big time champions. His last match is quite the famous one where he refused to stop the fight despite the fact that he was taking a severe pounding. He refused to go down and was determined to leave the ring on his own feet. He retired with 72 wins, 22 of them were won by knockout!

He joined the Marines in 1942 and despite being told to stay on US soil as a celebrity, he insisted on going into combat where he was awarded the Silver Star.

(Check out his biography- Barney Ross: The Life of a Jewish Fighter, by Douglas Century and his autobiography No Man Stands Alone.)

Martin "The Blimp" Levy was a wrestler that weighed an astonishing 600 Lbs!

He started his early career in a sideshow as the "Fat Man" at Coney Island!

Despite his massive size, he was astonishingly agile. He is known as one of the first "Giants" of wrestling and helped pave the way for others of his size and character.

Rafael Halperin, the son of a Viennese Ultra-Orthodox Rabbi came into the picture when his family fled to Mandatory Palestine to escape antisemitism and violence.

Rafael took up weightlifting and karate along with his intensive Talmudic studies. He moved to the US and became a renowned wrestler that was known for his Talmudic riddles and for his refusal to fight on the Sabbath.

Halperin also helped organize Israel's first Mr. Israel bodybuilders competition.

He wore a blue and white wrestling outfit with the Star of David across it. In America, he fought under the name "Mr. Israel" and "The Rasslin' Rabbi".

In Israel, he is credited with popularizing professional wrestling.

After he retired from wrestling, he became a Rabbi.

Information taken from:

The "Jewish Boxers and Wrestlers, and Yiddish Fighting Words, at Yivo Institute Exhibition" and the "The Yiddish Fight Club" exhibition.

www.nytimes.com/2015/05/01/nyregion/jewish-boxers-and-wrestlers-and-yiddish-fighting-words-at-yivo-institute-exhibition.html?_r=l&referrer

Wikipedia, and "Is Superman Circumcised? The Complete Jewish History of the World's Greatest Hero" by Roy Schwartz

#jumblr #Jewish Fighters #Jewish Boxers #Jewish Wrestlers #1930s-1940s Jews in America #American Jewish History

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senso1954 · 6 months ago

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Another year, I left N.Y.—on West Coast in Berkeley cottage dreamed of her soul—that, thru life, in what form it stood in that body, ashen or manic, gone beyond joy— near its death—with eyes—was my own love in its form, the Naomi, my mother on earth still—sent her long letter—& wrote hymns to the mad—Work of the merciful Lord of Poetry. that causes the broken grass to be green, or the rock to break in grass—or the Sun to be constant to earth—Sun of all sunflowers and days on bright iron bridges—what shines on old hospitals—as on my yard— Returning from San Francisco one night, Orlovsky in my room—Whalen in his peaceful chair—a telegram from Gene, Naomi dead— Outside I bent my head to the ground under the bushes near the garage—knew she was better— at last—not left to look on Earth alone—2 years of solitude—no one, at age nearing 60—old woman of skulls—once long-tressed Naomi of Bible— or Ruth who wept in America—Rebecca aged in Newark—David remembering his Harp, now lawyer at Yale or Srul Avrum—Israel Abraham—myself—to sing in the wilderness toward God—O Elohim!—so to the end—2 days after her death I got her letter— Strange Prophecies anew! She wrote—‘The key is in the window, the key is in the sunlight at the window—I have the key—Get married Allen don’t take drugs—the key is in the bars, in the sunlight in the window. Love, your mother’ which is Naomi—

from Kaddish (For Naomi Ginsberg, 1894—1956) by Allen Ginsberg

#poetry #allen ginsberg #kaddish #raph.txt #my quotes

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jassygay · 2 years ago

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The Chaotic Crew but just them and below them are their names.

Annie, Mikey, Jackson, Brian, Tina, Aiden, Garvin, Lssy, Nina, Luis.

Kai, Davis, Joel, Yajna, Billy, Minto, Sean, Delilah, Dawn, Ian.

Kat, Jasper, Matthew, Dave, Teal, Torm, Medd, Keith, Tabby, Princess Hannah.

43, Lucia, Jenny, Gingerbread cupcake girl, Scott, Greg, Brandon, Emily, Demi, Payton.

Finn, Blackface, Sky Bluey, Cory, Maya Kitty, Talilka, Fabion, 200, Sporty, Aria.

Bella, Bennett, Mia, Samara, Obi, 101, Malia, 201, Phuong, Avrum.

Donnie, 75, 57, Derek, Leopold, Nonbinary Friend, Shaic, Dina, Domenico.

and Johnson

*it’s ok to guess the wrong person I don’t mind if you reblog it you can circle them and put the name on them to guess*

#Gacha club #oc #characters

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dragons-bones · 1 year ago

Note

:O what's The White Vault?

>:3c The White Vault is one of my absolute favorite podcasts, made by Fool & Scholar Productions. It's a found footage style horror podcast, tightly plotted and complete, at five seasons of ten episodes each:

A research base on Svalbard goes dark after sending out a distress signal, and a group of five individuals are sent to outpost under the assumption they're repairing damaged equipment. But as a blizzard descends on the outpost and continues to rage in ways that aren't natural, the team discover something beneath the ice...

In addition to the five main seasons, there's also four miniseries available for purchase on the Fool & Scholar Website or through a specific tier on their Patreon: Artifact, Imperial, Iluka, and Avrum. These miniseries are not required listening, but they do provide further worldbuilding for the overarching plot and details of the story. There is also now a sequel series, Echoes.

Trigger warnings: violence, blood, body horror, teeth.

I adore this podcast very, very, very much. It also scares the everloving crap out of me, but in a good way! The trigger warnings I listed do not make a bulk of the show at all, but they are thematically important; the horror is not the violence, but the situation the characters find themselves in...and in what hunts them.

#cutequius #dt answers things #answering this publicly because i will never not take the opportunity to stan this show

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dareers-horniness · 1 year ago

Text

Teacher Tattling

You had requested a meeting with the Wizarding School of Dark Magic to discuss the matters of their teachings.

It had come to your attention that they were teaching their students illegal magic. Magic such as temporal spells and even reality-bending magic.

While you had already put the problem forward to the Council of High Magic, you figured you'd meet with him and get him to right his wrongs BEFORE he was put on the stand in front of the council. Something to maybe lessen his punishment if he cooperated.

You came armed with your wand, in case he tried to pull any shenanigans. Though you were certain he wouldn't. The dragon was certainly out of his league when it came to challenging your 20 years as the headmaster of your own college, one that outshined his by a mile.

Avrum Specter padded up to you in the vacant magic hall.

"So, to what do I owe this pleasure, Sir?" The dragon chuckled.

Not only had he gone through the college you were running when he was a whelp. Avrum also happened to be in your class when he was there, something he clearly was enjoying now.

The black dragon wore a much darker robe than you did, his plum-colored attire showing off the devious nature of the magic he taught, especially when compared to the sky blue and white robes you toted around your toned vulpine form.

Despite being his senior, you still matched the dragon's muscles.

"Avrum, I have put in a notice to the Council of High Magic regarding your illegal teachings." You began, trying to push aside the haughty expression on his face.

"If you go and admit to them your wrong-doings, they may give you a lightened punishment, even allowing you to keep your school!"

His eyes seemed to twitch at the actions you had just confided to him, as if a combination of caught-off guard and furious.

But he quickly lightened up, his scowl fading and his arms crossing as, unbeknownst to you, he began tapping his robe with his glowing wand.

"Oh? And would this happen to be the accusations of my teaching reality-bending spells to my students? Something that we ALL know is illegal to teach? That YOU taught me never to practice or else it might disrupt the flow of magic?" He prodded, his wand glowing brighter.

You still took no notice of his wand, however, focusing only on his words, all the while, you failed to notice how your clothing shifted. The wand in your paw warped, bulging out into a new object.

"Of course it is! You have been hiding your evasion of the rules for too long!" You protested.

"So I told the big boys in the Magic Council that you were teaching naughty magic and being a rude bully! And you're gonna get in a lot of trouble!" You reprimanded the dragon, his wand still sweeping changes across your form.

Your tipped shoes puffed up alongside your underwear.

"You certainly did tattle on me, huh, Sir? Though I can admit to my wrong-doings! I have used some time magic and even a little bit of reality-warping! But it ONLY affects the inexperienced furs that I use it on! Everyone else still thinks they should be a big boy even if they don't!" He confessed.

You listened to his words, still on the verge of fussing, when something occurred to you.

"Hm... somethings off here..." You pondered aloud, tapping your chin with a rattle as you stood before Avrum in the poofy-seated fleece onesie that replaced your experienced wizard robes.

"Oh yeah!" You exclaimed. "I haven't filled my diapee yet!" You announced before squatting, your bare, toned legs tensing as you dipped lower and balled your fists up, clutching your rattle.

Your red and orange tail flagged, a large flow of muck filling your diaper.

You held a slightly bothered look on your muzzle as your face scrunched up.

You were filling your diaper in front of such a big, RENOWNED wizard! It should have been embarrassing, but it felt SO good!

Your sky blue onesie bulged out the back, effortful grunts still sounding. The squishy warmth filling your diaper just felt PERFECT! NORMAL, even!

And of course it did! You were just an overgrown, pamper-packing fox kit after all!

You sighed and unclenched your paws, falling back onto your hefty seat with a squish and a sound from your rattle.

'Hehe. That sound was fun!' You thought, attempting to recreate it with a smurshing of your seat and a shake of your rattle.

You gave a not-so-childish-sounding chortle at the noises and the feelings, looking up at the big dragon wizard who padded behind you, forgetting his threat.

"So, I suppose that you won't have anything else to say to the Council of High Magic? Other than how mushy and stinky your diapers are, of course." Avrum chuckled, giving your bulging onesie seat a nudge with his paw.

You simply giggled.

"Uh huh! I go'd poopy in my pants!"

#mental regression #furry #messy diapers #hypnosis #dragons #Fox #Wizards #Magic

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