#dayan secret

[david-goldrock]

A song I think anti-capitalist Tumblr is going to like

The following song is based on a real story

One day an ad producer called me Hello? The name isn't important And told me about a product relating to fruits What is its name? The name isn't important He said "write us a banger like your song" What song? Well the name isn't important This is how they talk, these guys they do not have a god (hebrew expression meaning a person who doesn't have a sense of morality or fairness) Hashem isn't important (hashem: hebrew expression meaning god, also "the name")

I hung up He called again Said "we'll film it abroad Jumbo" Eh... it's Jimbo I felt my spine becoming flexible For you, it's a very good exposure Well, let's leave the exposing for Ilana Dayan (A famous news anchor with a show exposing secrets) And we'll pay you I can't be bought 6 Figures SIX?!

There are some who call it just selling out And there are some who say it's a mitzvah to take a coupon There are those who don't even have the privilege to let it go There are some who go for it and don't care what people say There are some who call it the beginning of the end And some who say that it is for the family That producer just wanted a catchy song so that's what came out The fruits of success

In a week we had a banger An atmosphere of breaking the piggy-bank More trash than kardash (short for kardashian) Distorting like slash (This entire segment showes Jimbo's flexing, because he is a hebrew puritan, and uses english based words here) More catchy than "press on the 5" by direct insurance I sent him the song, I felt the laughter beginning to roll I packed a suitcase, tried on a bathing-suit And then the phone rang

Jumbo, there are no fruits in the song! What? Apharsemony Mushonov, Levi Eshkol of grapes? (Mony mushonov is a celeb, Apharsemon means Persimmon, Levi Eshkol is the name of an Israeli Prime Minister, Eshkol means cluster) You are talking Trigonometry B My audience thinks in single digits What happened what happened what happened, did you forget how to write? Hear, I am coming to this with an open mind And? But I have principles as well, ha? Principles? It's a matter of wording

There are some who call it just selling out And there are some who say it's a mitzvah to take a coupon There are those who don't even have the privilege to let it go There are some who go for it and don't care what people say There are some who call it the beginning of the end And some who say that it is for the family That producer just wanted a catchy song so that's what came out The fruits of success

There are no fruits and no hadar (both citrus and splendor) in a sugar drink That splendors itself with the title "Orange flavored" (In Israel, if a product contains 100% orange it can be called juice, if it contains at least 25% it can be called orange nectar, and anything less is orange flavored) And there are pills that are too bitter, even with the sweeteners And yes today I raise a shot of juice for all of those winners Who prefer Lehachmitz (both "to miss on" and "to sour") a supposedly sweet opportunity Than Lehachmitz their face

[the-desilittle-bird]

Author's Note- And here it is!!! React and let me know how you feel about the twist guys. Your interactions and comments encourage me greatly.

Thank you and Enjoy your reading!

The White Dragon

Darker Than Night (Chapter 4)

Summary- Secrets are kept behind the heavy walls of the Red Keep...

Tag List- @eliseline, @little-moonbeam-666, @blackhoodlea, @omgsuperstarg, @shopping, @lizlovecraft, @dayane, @bbgmonsay, @michelle-26, @all-things-fandomstuck, @hc-geralt-23, @chevelledahuman, @morganastrucker, @shrexy, @helloitsshitzulover, @daringboba, @minaxcarter, @b-tchymoon, @stargaryenx, @hukio, @targaryenmoony, @moon-light1415, @eudximoniakr, @themaze13, @candypurplebutterfly, @5moremin, @yariany02, @issybee0611, @beefbaby25, @shine101, @hopebaker, @andlizeth, @hyacinthus007, @lightdragonrayne, @prettykinkysoul, @mcam623, @marvelescvpe, @severewobblerlightdragon, @deltamoon14, @let-love-bleeds-red, @thatgirlthatreadswattpad, @ultrav0lence, @random-shit-i-like-2, @sunmoon-01, @savagemickey03, @kishie8, @watercolorskyy

Warnings- Steamy and my first start in writing smut, implication of forcing someone for intercourse, Westrosi Things.

Chapter 3 Chapter 5

The Red Keep was always full of secrets. Secrets kept away from the common people, from the nobles and sometimes, from the dragons ruling the continent.

Nights turned the beauty of the towering fort into a scary dance of shadows and secrets. The blazing torched did nothing to the creepiness crawling at the corners, neither could the guards.

Not many dared to walk these corridors after the sun removed itself from the sky and the moon started its reign over the skies with stars bowing to it.

A light moan echoed in the room as Aerea bit on her lower lip as another moan threatened to spill. A hand closed around her throat while other continued to abuse her bosom. Lips brushed against her collarbone, traveling to her ears.

"Dōna prūmia." (Sweetheart)

"Kepus..." (Uncle) Aerea purred, her fingers lacing into the silky silver hair while a groan echoed in her ear. "Ao ȳdra daor gīmigon tolvie run jaelan naejot gaomagon naejot ao, jorrāelagon," (You don't know every thing I want to do to you, dear) he hissed, his tongue darting out of his mouth to lick a strip behind her ear.

"Daemon."

Aemond was restless as well as angry, trying to concentrate his anger and frustration on the blows he landed on the wooden piece which resembled a man.

His hands were adorned with blisters from continuous and rigorous training while his feet hurts like they were tasked to walk from Storm's End to King's Landing.

In his mind, the smiling face of his sister painted itself in a permanent memory and alongside her beautiful and innocent face was that savage lord who snatched her out of his hands. Only if Aemond could kill the Stark Lord and be done with him.

"Aemond?" Called his mother's concerned voice as he turned around, growling like a wounded animal with wide eyes. "What do you want?" He snapped, returning back to blow attacks at the dummy in front.

"You weren't present at the dinner. Why?" She asked, her voice drifting over to him with the breeze which stinged Aemond's hands. "As you can see mother. I am busy training," he grunted as he stabbed at the piece of wood.

Alicent sighed, her shoulders slumping as she watched her dear son lose himself into training after later that day's court. She was aware of his love for her youngest daughter and had somehow prevented him all these years to hurt him.

"I apologize that you aren't betrothed to Aerea, Aemond. But there are far more better-" Alicent was cut mid-sentence by Aemond's animalistic growl, just as if it was Vhagar. "I don't need better ladies of court, I want her."

"Your father has commanded her wedding to Cregan Stark, my son. None can change it," Alicent said carefully, her eyes trying to find any weakness she could use against Aemond to calm him for now, just as she always did. But it seemed that Aemond knew her trick, giving her away nothing but a cold stare.

"There is a way, mother," Aemond said with a wide smirk, as his eye sparkled with something evil. Alicent frowned her eyebrows, trying to comprehend what he means while he walks closer to her.

"I can steal her virtue, then she is left with no choice but to marry me," he whispered coldly with a malicious smirk on his face, making Alicent's eyes go wide as she shook her head. "You shall do nothing like that!" She exclaimed, her breathing rugged.

"We shall see mother."

Cregan laid in his bed, trying to grasp onto a bit of sleep before the sun rises again on the horizon. But it seemed that his mind was not ready to sleep, instead, memories he wished to bury deep in his mind resurfaced like ghosts from past.

His uncle's haunting words taunted him as he shifted to his side. 'Every single person you stay closed to will always live in misery, nephew. That is the curse you shall bear.'

Cregan groaned as he sat up, his eyes traveling to his ring lying beside his pillow. The house ring of Stark which was passed on by every Lord to Lord. Swirls of thoughts consumed as he thought of his legacy and the legacies left behind him by his fore fathers.

He was aware that his house was not as great as the House of the Dragons and it scared him a bit. Aerea was a dragon and possessed one. He had heard of the Targaryen... tendencies and it was something which his people as well as him frowned upon.

His mind went to the interaction between his betrothed and the Rogue Prince. Aerea seemed too close to Daemon, something which didn't sit well with the wolf lord but he swallowed it and let his head fall back to the pillow.

"How can this alliance help the north?" His mind wandered as he slept.

Four different personalities whose lives were woven intricately between the changing period of politics. As the silence of an upcoming war rumbled beneath the land, the threads of lives are also at stake.

What patterns shall be formed and which thread will prove to be the strongest? Only time could tell...

[halsins-herbal-underpants]

Give Me Nothing To Hold

(Give Them Everything To Take)

A Halsin sadfic fea. Dayan (my Tav)

Rating: Gen

Note the tags!

CW: subjugation, emotional trauma, Lolth-sworn drow slave society

approx. 6.5k words

Read on Ao3

Trapped together by fate and circumstance under the thumb of a cruel Drow Matriarch, Dayan tries to offer Halsin a moment of peace. But in the Underdark, peace is antithesis to control, and control must be maintained. At any cost.

If only Dayan hadn't tried to give Halsin something tangible to hold, then maybe the druid wouldn't have had the last real piece of himself taken away.

Just a bit of events of Halsin's time in Menzobarranzan, set in the semi-AU of my Tav playthrough. Dayan and Halsin belonged to the same House & knew one another through Halsin's time in the Underdark.

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Dayan wished he'd eaten that morning. Nerves were making his stomach rumble with angry bile, and the last thing he wanted was an errant gurgle raising the Matron's irritation more than it already was. The situation was tense enough, and Dayan didn't want to add to it. Especially considering the focus of her ire was entirely his fault in the first place.

The wood elf currently knelt in front of the great chair in the Matron's hosting chamber, his forehead touching the cold stone in the proper posture. His arms were stretched before him to show he held no weapon. 

Dayan had to scoff at the idea. He didn't have clothes -- she wouldn't allow it when she was angry with him. The notion he could have secreted a poisoned dagger on his person was absurd.

 But the Ilharess was paranoid, of course, though no more than any of her peers. Her paranoia had served her well and seen her through seven assassination attempts, three of which were from her own daughters. It was that same paranoia that arranged this tableau before them.

The elf that prostrated himself before the Matron was incredibly large for his race, his only clothing the floor-length mane of pretty auburn hair that spread over his body like a cloak. It was unbound, spilling messily over his shoulders, sporting not a single one of the elaborate braids it usually did. 

Something about that made Dayan feel uneasy. That hair was always ornamented with braids, elaborate twisting designs often woven with jeweled charms. To be allowed before the Matron in her audience chamber with his hair loose and wild was discomforting. Dayan's jaw creaked from clenching it tighter and he held his breath in a jolt of fear, but then relaxed slowly. She hadn't heard him. Her attention was focused, sharp and unyielding, on the wood elf. 

He'd entered the chamber before the Matron, walking slowly before the assembled servants with head bowed; one of the higher concubines led him to kneel in front of the dias by a silver chain hooked to a rune-carved collar around his neck. Dayan recognized the common pit-slave collar that inhibited magic. The wood elf was a shapechanger, Dayan knew. A druid, though he wasn't quite clear on what that meant. 

It didn't matter though, whatever power the elf may have had -- the collar denoted his current status and that was to be kept from accessing even the most basic of magics. It was only removed at the Matron's whims. She would not be removing it now.

Around him, the Matron's servants and swords had gathered as usual, awaiting their House Mother’s orders. As soon as she’d entered, foreheads touched the floor, silent and swift. Dayan had tried to keep his eyes on the lone chained figure as he crouched; the huge elf dropped to his knees with surprising grace and joined the rest in supplication.

The only thing that belied his perceived calm was a trembling in his hands – the delicate chains that attached to his shackles softly clinked, and Dayan felt his stomach drop and body prickle in fear.

But by the time the Matron arrived at the front of the chamber and took her seat, the trembling had stopped and the chains that wound around both his wrists and ankles were still and silent as the grave. It was impressive, Dayan thought, before he had to bow his head fully and hide his face. 

The wood elf's name was Halsin and it was Dayan's fault he was here.

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"So after everything I have given you, all the ways I have sought to please you, my parzdiamo...this is how you repay me?" 

Her words were short and clipped, acidic enough to burn. Slowly and too casually, she reached into a fold of her dress, between her breasts, and withdrew a short silver knife and sheath. The sheath and handle were decorated in some way but difficult to see from a distance. She held it aloft in long, delicate, sharp-nailed fingers and tilted her head at the wood elf. 

He was silent, did not so much as twitch, and she smiled without mirth. Proper behavior; even in her anger, she was pleased.

"Servants, you may rise," she said airly, her legs slowly uncrossing, then crossing again. The slit of her spider-silk dress slid apart and showed her sharp-heeled shoes, leather bindings crossing up shapely calves. Her gaze fell on Halsin. 

"You, my bear -- you will lift your head, sit up and speak. But only those loyal to me may stand."

Halsin finally looked up, rose slowly to sit on his heels. His hair slipped over his shoulders, but couldn't fully hide the lines of his gorgeous body. Dayan knew if the Matron was not there, there would be intrigued, curious and bawdy whispers among the servants, same as there always was when the consort was allowed to wander the rest of the grounds. But for now, there were just wide-eyed looks and slight smirks hidden behind hands.

 Something about the attention made Dayan want to curse at them all, grab a blanket and run over to wrap it around those broad shoulders. Grab--

--grab his hand and run--

"--a gift," came a low, soft voice that only trembled a little at the edges, and Dayan realized he had drifted into impossible daydreams once again. Halsin's expression was calm and stoic as stone, though open and unguarded. You could be nothing else, speaking to the Matron.

"It was a gift, Mistress. A gift, only. I swear to you I am still loyal, still--" He stopped and Dayan blinked to see that stoic face warm slightly.

"Yes...?" It wasn't a question, so much as a command, the drow woman's silver-painted lips spreading subtly at the corners into something Dayan wouldn't have called a smile.

"Still yours," Halsin breathed, ignoring the snickers that surrounded him from the drow lining the walls. "I swear to you by my heart -- the knife has no true blade, I cannot use it to hurt you, to hurt anyone. I kept it because it was a gift." 

The Matron tilted her head to the side in thought. "Do you swear to me by your deft hands and pretty eyes?" she asked softly. Halsin didn't reply. She continued, her voice getting slightly louder at each sentence.

"Do you swear to me by your bones and blood? By your tongue and teeth? By the impressive cock that hangs between your legs?" 

She didn't reprimand the quiet giggles that circled the chamber, but nor did she smirk herself. She just watched him with hooded eyes, her words less a jest and more a list of what the wood elf may lose if she found his answers wanting. Halsin's face was flushed darker now and he swallowed thickly.

"I swear it by everything I am."

"You are darthiir! " She spat, rising in one swift motion and Dayan wondered how the wood elf did not flinch at her thunderous anger. The Matron's moods were so mercurial; perhaps he had just grown used to outbursts.

"You are nothing that I do not make you."

She walked up to him and grabbed his chin, her nails digging into the soft flesh of his jaw as she pulled his face up and up, stretching his neck painfully so he could meet her dark red eyes. 

"Do not lie to me, parzdiamo, I will not have it. If this knife is not as you claim, then I'll know was an assassin's trap and you an unwitting dupe. And I will not have a fool warm my bed." She let go of his jaw and unsheathed the knife. 

Dayan let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. The blade was dull and broken, rusted through in a way the handle was not. It would not cut hair, much less skin. The Matron peered at it and then gave a low chuckle.

"This is very old. And obviously from the surface. The craftsmanship is lacking, as all things are there. This blade has fallen to rust." She ran the blunt tip of it over her arm and snorted as it only cut a narrow, bloodless line that barely burned. "Useless. A poor gift indeed." 

Halsin said nothing, but he seemed to relax -- though, only a little, because he was wise enough for that.

She turned back to him and touched his face once again, but this time her fingers were gentle on his cheek.

"Who gave this to you? You only need to speak their name and you will not be punished. But you must understand I cannot be disrespected in my own home. You accepted a gift behind my back. Not that you thought of it like that, I'm sure," she laughed softly and brushed fingers through the wood elf's bangs. To his credit, he didn't flinch. 

"You just saw something shiny and pretty and wanted it, mmh? Silly thing," she teased, her laugh like sharp, glittering glass. Her finger grazed down his sweating forehead and tapped his nose. "If I'd known you craved shiny baubles and fripperies, darling child, I'd have long ago spoiled you rotten. Perhaps I still might. We'll go shopping soon, yes?" She held the knife between her fingers, her amused smile growing tight.

"Who gave this to you?"

Halsin took a deep breath. He tried to keep his expression calm and stoic as before, but it faltered right before he spoke, a flicker of true fear crossing his features briefly.

"...I do not know, Mistress. I -- I can't remember." 

Dayan flinched but luckily the matron was not looking his way. If Halsin refused to tell her, then he would be punished severely and it would be all Dayan's fault. But if he told the truth, well. He'd still be punished, but less severely, at least. Perhaps he’d even get to keep all his limbs. 

And Dayan would be sacrificed to the Spider Queen. Or fed to the temple arachnids. Or flayed alive and set on a pike as a warning to other servants. Or she might just slit his throat in the audience chamber, let him bleed out at her feet...

Dayan's hands couldn't stop shaking.

He gave the knife to Halsin because it had roses carved into the silver handle.

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Dayan approached the wood elf slowly during his meditation, in their Matron's garden. Slaves weren't usually permitted to sit in the gardens but the Matron made an exception for her favorite consort. 

In truth Halsin hated being singled out like that; it made most of the other slaves avoid him, if not outright mock him for his perceived status. It was maddening to them, a male of the wood elf race garnering the adoration the Mistress and Master bestowed upon him.

If only they knew what form that admiration often took, they might have been more hesitant to condemn him. 

They might, but Halsin knew in truth -- they would still hate him, just because they could. So he spent most of his free time alone.

Until lately, at least.

"Halsin?" the guardsman whispered quietly, making sure to approach the consort with a wide berth. Halsin startled easily when approached from the back, he'd learned. The wood elf looked up and his soft frown, the expression he normally wore when alone, disappeared entirely when he saw Dayan. 

"Oh!" A smile, soft and warm, spread on that handsome face and Dayan felt his stomach flip. He couldn't help but feel a small jolt of pride at how much more at ease Halsin looked when he saw him approach, in these brief, furtive, stolen meetings. 

He wanted to say 'happy' instead of just at ease, but he knew too many things about the wood elf's day-to-day to ever say that. 

"Yes, my friend? What can I do for you?" Halsin asked, curiously.

"You can scoot over so I can sit," Dayan teased and Halsin laughed softly, moving over on the bench and allowing Dayan to plop down. They didn't have long -- the consort's next chaperone would be approaching soon. Dayan had made sure to memorize the schedule between shift changes well. So he didn't waste any time on pleasantries, as much as he craved hearing Halsin talk. 

"Here, look at this," he said. "I've had this for a long time, but just realized you might be able to identify -- well, here."

He pulled a knife from his pocket and held it up. It was silver, with carved vines and leaves and flowers alongside the edge of the handle and wrapped around its base. The sheath was heavy leather and also carved with the same imagery. "Can you tell me what these are, surrounding the handle? I'm sure they're a type of surface plant but I've never seen one in the books I have. Tell me you know a lot about plants. Druids know plants, right?"

Halsin had to chuckle at that. "You could say that," he mused as he peered at the silver handle. Dayan held out the knife, intending for Halsin to take it to look closer, but the consort bent to bring it to his eyesight, but did not reach out to touch or take. He knew better. It was already risky enough talking to the drow guardsman. 

"Those are roses," he said with a genuine smile as he gazed upon the beautifully carved petals. "A type of climbing vine -- here, see these lines denoting the vine wrapping around the base? And here, these are the leaves...this the thorns...the blooming roses are the nicest part, in my opinion." Halsin met Dayan's eyes, his brows raised in surprise. 

"Where did you find such a thing? Depictions of surface flora are not at all common down here, unless stolen from above." 

Dayan hummed in thought, and then shrugged. "Perhaps it is from the surface," he said. "I don't know, I took it off a corpse decades ago." 

"A corpse!" Halsin gave a teasing laugh, bumping Dayan's shoulder with his own. "Of course, I don't know why I expected a different answer." After a beat, he met Dayan's eyes. "Stolen or not, old or not -- it is a weapon you're not allowed. You're playing dangerous games to bring it out this close to the manor, my friend."

Dayan nodded, smiling ruefully. Halsin was not wrong, he was playing with fire. Although it wasn't exactly like he thought...

Dayan grasped the handle over the carved roses and pulled it out of the sheath, holding it up for the consort to inspect the blade. 

Halsin flinched and drew back involuntarily, even though he had once admitted he trusted Dayan more than his Mistress. But, well, learned lessons are hard to break; especially when they have been so painfully taught. 

Dayan winced and lowered the knife. "I'm sorry," he whispered sincerely. Halsin relaxed, shaking his head with a chagrined look.

"No, no. You're fine. I apologize for my reaction." 

Dayan didn't say anything, just pursed his lips briefly, his stomach hurting for some reason -- and then put his attention on the knife in his hand. The blade was rusted nearly through and broken at the tip. They could both see it was nearly as blunt as a butter knife. 

"I made sure it wasn't dangerous before I decided to show you." 

He remembered the look in Halsin's eyes as they traced the fine carving work of the swirling vines and plump leaves, and the pretty roses that looked to be lightly brushed with a shiny red paint. Almost entirely faded, but when it caught the low glowing light of a nearby sussar tree, it shimmered in a soft pink. 

Halsin's gaze had turned almost as soft as he looked at it, and Dayan wondered if he was remembering the last roses he'd seen. It would have been a long time ago. They didn't grow in the Underdark.

He bit his bottom lip in hesitation as he re-sheathed the knife; and then in a bold, abrupt move he reached out for Halsin's hand as it hovered uncertainly around his chest, fingers lightly grasping the silken toga he'd been allowed to wear that day. Dayan slowly took it in his, waiting for the other to balk and yank it free, but the moment never came. Halsin just looked down at him with briefly wide eyes, his cheeks warming. He felt the larger elf's fingers twitch as if wanting to squeeze them around Dayan's own.

Dayan realized this was the first time they'd touched hands.

"I want you to have this," the drow said, placing the object in Halsin’s palm and wrapping his fingers around the knife handle. He saw the consort was about to protest, but he quickly interrupted. "Please. In truth, I kept it to give to someone...important to me," he murmured. "But then he..." He paused, looked away. "Well, he's not here anymore. But now I have you," he added, more brightly.

Dayan didn’t realize what that might have sounded like, rushing to get through his impromptu, embarrassing speech, but Halsin certainly did. The flush on his cheek spread to the tips of his ears and he dipped his head, his long graceful mane falling to hide his reddened face.

"A thing like this is wasted on me," Dayan continued in a rush, oblivious. "I've never even seen a picture of a rose. They're pretty, if this is accurate," he admitted. "But I can't appreciate them like someone who knows what they are can. Like you can." 

Dayan looked down at the knife. "Roses don't exist down here, but -- here they do,” he tapped the handle with a finger. "Maybe this can be a comfort? I don't know. I hope it can be."

Halsin found it hard to respond. "Why would you...want to do this for me...?" he asked softly, more softly than he'd ever spoken to Dayan before. There was confusion in his voice, hoarse with unbidden emotion. 

"I just -- you're not --" He paused and then had to let go of Halsin's hand. He couldn't look at him and say this at the same time. The wood elf squeezed the knife tight.

"You're not meant to be here," Dayan said softly. "I don't mean like slaves shouldn't be here." His eyes darted to the wood elf's face, then away. "I mean -- you aren't meant to be here, Halsin."  He hurried on, embarrassed, sure he sounded like a madman. 

"I don't know why I say it. It's just...something I feel." He was silent for a beat, then glanced around the garden and leaned closer to Halsin, voice barely a whisper and words quick, as if afraid of speaking what he wanted to aloud. "When I sleep--we drow don't often trance, you know," he said, though he suspected Halsin must have learned this by now. "It's more nightmares than memories. I try to just sleep, not meditate. But sometimes I still will...and sometimes when I do, I see Lady Silverhair between the nightmares. I think she told me."

Halsin's brow wrinkled and he opened his mouth to ask, but Dayan cut him off. He didn't have time to explain that particular curiosity right now.

"Memories are cherished things for your kin, right? I read that somewhere. They ground surface elves to your history, where you came from. But sometimes...memories are just pain, especially when you're--"

He paused, then murmured quietly. "Especially when they're all you have."

"They're not real roses," he continued, "but it's something tangible you can touch that reminds you they exist. Not just a memory of them. And sometimes that's nice to have, I think."

Dayan glanced up at the manor and blanched -- the replacement guard was just barely visible around the corner. He rose quickly, before Halsin could speak and quickly tucked the knife deep in a fold of his toga, where it couldn't be seen. He didn't dare look at Halsin's face, didn't dare meet those eyes or let his own drift over those lips he dreamed about. He paused before fleeing, only a second, and touched the wood elf's shoulder.

"You will see roses again, I swear it," he whispered. And then he ran.

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"...Someone pressed it into my tunic at one of your...parties, Mistress. I do not remember who." 

There had been so many parties lately; the Matron's House had just conquered an enemy, razed the family's manor and everything inside to the ground. A conquest of a particularly fruitful land to the Lady's coffers. She'd been throwing lavish events to show her power and celebrate. Halsin had featured as a particularly sought-after entertainment at most of them. 

"I wished to find them, to thank them, but they must have left before I could. And then I was...I was afraid to tell you," his words wavered, stammering a little to sell his fear, but not overmuch. "I just kept it, growing more and more afraid to reveal my deception. I shouldn't have, I know. Please forgive me, Mistress, please--"

"I know this pattern on the handle," she interrupted, fingertips tracing the flowering vines on the knife. Halsin blinked in confusion -- sometimes it was hard to follow his Mistress's mind. "These are roses, are they not? A beautiful blossom that is said to contain dangerous thorns beneath its petals. Some are believed to be as long as a man's hand."

She turned her face to him, looking down her elegant nose at her currently-favored consort. "Is that what you are, Halsin?”

He shivered. The Mistress so rarely used his name, it always made him uncomfortable to hear it on her tongue.

“A rose sent to me from afar, with thorns hiding just under your lovely petals? Perhaps one day you'll wrap your vines around my neck and run back to your accursed sun, mmh?"

"No! I swear it, Mistress. I am here because of your..." It was hard to get the words out; no matter how technically true they were, the meaning was drenched in painful irony.

"...Generosity and kindness, after all. I would never hurt you! And I do not want to be anywhere else," he said and inwardly winced at such a boldfaced lie. He shouldn't have said that, she wouldn't believe him. Nobody would. 

"I am yours, only. Let me prove it to you, as you so often like," he added, his voice dropping, tone turning as sultry as flowing silk.

She only crooked one arched brow upward and he felt the back of his neck begin to sweat. He was saying all the wrong things, being all the wrong things. But all he could think about was Dayan's words, his eyes -- such a pretty violet shade, like gemstones, standing out starkly against all the crimson that stared at him daily. He couldn't betray him, he wouldn’t.

Halsin's mind whirled; in truth she knew his aching desire to return to the forest and flowers and sun. Sometimes she brought up the idea just to force him to deny the truth of his soul; sometimes she looked at him with sad eyes and stroked his hair and whispered apologies they both knew she didn't mean. She enjoyed soft words and hot tears on his cheeks -- perhaps the pity made her feel powerful.

Perhaps she just enjoyed watching him hurt.

"I..." He exhaled a long, hard breath and looked down at the floor. His knees were starting to ache, the chill seeping into his bones, despite his natural warmth. It couldn't ever keep the cold that radiated out of every stone away for long. "The roses do hold thorns, yes," he said miserably. "But it's only protection. My thorns were...worn away by your careful hands long ago, Mistress. I only wanted a memory of home. Just a small one."

It seemed his gamble had paid off; the Matron's eyes warmed and she slowly bent, a hand reaching to touch his face. To rub her thumb over the wetness in the dark hollows below his eyes. Halsin almost instinctively nuzzled into her hand -- she smiled, and he knew he had done well, he had made the right choice, said the right words. She approved of his weakness, at least for now.

"My sweetling, I wish there was a way I could make you understand that this is home, now. You only hurt yourself in your longing." He nodded, like a good boy, chastised so gently by her words. 

"Lovely bear," his Mistress almost purred. "Perhaps I will have one of my surface raids procure an enchanted rose that cannot die and does not need the sun. I'll keep it in my bedchamber, mmh? And you can gaze upon the pretty thing whenever you wish." 

The idea was abhorrent, of course, like everything else she ever offered him; but Halsin gave her a watery, weak smile.

"Perhaps," was all he said, and it turned his stomach to say that much. But the woman was satisfied and she nodded, giving his cheek a condescending pat and rising to her full height. She did so love to tower over him when she could. He hoped it signaled this farce was almost over. 

But then she opened her mouth to speak again and he froze; he'd forgotten, he realized.

Her moods were so mercurial.

"However," she said, haughty, and Halsin felt his blood run cold. "If you do not or cannot tell me who gave this to you -- if your memory is so unreliable…" she trailed off, her eyes sharp – and Halsin knew he’d saved himself from nothing. 

"Then you will still need to be punished, my dear." She sighed, folding her hands together. 

"You know you cannot accept gifts from anyone but myself, without my permission. Nothing, without my permission!" She snapped. "You didn't tell anyone, and you kept this hidden. You made a choice. You know better." 

Halsin had to keep his teeth from gritting, loathing how she so often spoke to him like a child. He might play into it to keep her wrath at bay, but he didn't like it. He fought not to glance over at Dayan, the drow's presence like a thorn in the back of his mind. It didn't matter, though. He wouldn't betray him; and he couldn't blame him. The gift had brought him happiness since that meeting, however fleeting.

"It is not a transgression that requires me to lose my favorite bear however," the Matron added and Halsin's face relaxed a little, though the tension remained in his shoulders. He did not look up at her, keeping his head lowered and his hands folded in his lap. He watched the chains from his shackles settle over his knees and shimmer in the low light. He felt his back bend unconsciously, as his body tried to fold in and make himself smaller.

He heard, rather than saw, the sound of a blade against leather, but dared not look up until she demanded it. But out of the periphery he spied her hand drop, and one of her wicked-looking daggers was gripped tightly in it. His face blanched but he kept himself from shaking, just barely.

The Matron lifted the dagger, sweeping the point of it across the room at her servant swords, eyes narrowing as she studied their faces. Most of them were looking at her, expressions either carefully blank, subtly wary, or eager. 

Perhaps one of them, then -- eager was interesting, sometimes, but messy. Wary was often boring, so relieved to not be the victim they punished with more fervor than necessary. Dull and expected. Blank was efficient, at leas--

Wait. The Matron stopped, her eyes narrowing even more, as one face was very blatantly, and with some difficulty, avoiding her gaze.

Oh, cowardice. Cowardice was always fun. 

"You!" she snapped, pointing at the anonymous drow guardsman. She didn't know his name, but who cares, really?

Dayan felt all the blood drain out of his face. 

"Me?!" he said, his voice high and tight, and instantly knew that had been the wrong thing to say. He glanced at Halsin, seeing the wood elf's shoulders tighten at hearing his voice. 

"Y-Yes, Matron," he added quickly and walked to her, trying to keep his hands from shaking. She held out the knife, and watched him stop and stare at it a moment before she sighed in irritation and gave it a shake.

"Are you simple, boy? Take it!" she hissed and Dayan quickly did as she asked, the blade feeling awkward and unfamiliar in his grasp. He knew it would be sharp though; sharp enough to ease through a throat with the lightest touch. But she'd said Halsin wasn't to be killed. Perhaps just cut? He didn't know if he could...

He saw the consort actually risk a look up, meeting Dayan's eyes. Halsin's were wide, but not in accusation, but empathy. He understood and was telling Dayan without words he needed to stop hesitating before he was gutted for insubordination. Dayan shifted his grip, trying to look calm and collected and nodded at her. He walked over to Halsin, trying to avoid looking into his eyes directly once he got close. The last thing he wanted is for the Matron to suspect there was any connection there. 

His chest burned; like a hot iron brand pressed to the flesh...no, not that. He knew what that was like. This was so much worse.

But yet, he didn't let his hands shake.

Dayan stood next to the kneeling wood elf, careful not to step on the long ruddy-brown tresses pooled about his legs.

"Where shall I begin, Matron?" he asked, his voice wavering only a little bit.

Her deep ruby eyes roamed over Halsin's servile form. And then she smiled. 

Dayan felt something squeeze his heart in its iron grip.

"His hair," she said simply. "Cut it off. All of it."

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

"What?!" Halsin's head snapped up, his eyes wide. "You can't!" The change was instantaneous -- where there had been a calm, restrained consort awaiting punishment without fear, now sat a frantic, terrified wood elf, already half to his feet. "Mistress, please, -- you can't, please!"

The Matron's eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed dangerously. She took a step towards Halsin. "Did you just speak against me, darthiir?!"

His hands went to clutch at her spider-silk skirt and she balked, unsure how to react for a moment, taken aback by Halsin's sudden panic. She gripped his wrists to pry his hands off her; the servants around them were rousing, confused and anxious, looking from one to another, wondering if they should step in. 

"Please, don't do this my lady! I'll do anything! I'll take any punishment, hot irons, whipping. I'll entertain a thousand of your guests, I'll live with my head buried between your thighs, please!” Halsin’s voice was more afraid than Dayan had ever heard it, words stammering out, falling over each other as he begged without shame. “Oak father as my witness, I will do anything!!" His eyes were wide and white at the edges, like a wild animal about to bolt. He rose to full height and immediately half a dozen guards surged forward. He gripped her hands, tears in his eyes, ignoring or perhaps unseeing the drow moving towards him.

"Talthara, please," he half-sobbed, and the Matron's eyes widened. She slapped him then, hard, her nightstone ring cutting deep into his cheek. 

"How dare you!" she spat. "You are not allowed to speak so familiarly with me in the audience chamber!Bind his arms!" She watched as her guardsmen pried Halsin's hands off her skirts, pinning him down while he howled in fear and rage, and bound his arms behind him with a heavy chain. 

Dayan wasn't one of them. The dagger was no longer in his hand. He wanted to help, he wanted to jump on the others and tear them away from Halsin, take the dagger and stab it through the bitch's heart, grab the wood elf and run. 

But where? There was only cold stone and unforgiving darkness. But he couldn't let this happen. He couldn't--

"What are you waiting for?" the Matron snapped and Dayan realized she was talking to him. She eyed the weapon on the ground. "I am in no mood for games, boy. Pick up the thrice-damned dagger and do it!

Dayan's daydreams evaporated into smoke and ash; if he tried to free the wood elf, do anything but what she demanded, Halsin would suffer for it. And it'd be more than this, it'd be so much worse. He'd already done so much to him with his stupid gift, he couldn't put the druid's very life in danger. 

He picked up the dagger, but his hands were shaking so much. Halsin was roaring like a wild beast, and his eyes kept flashing gold. A shimmer flickered over his skin, like lightning, and every time the runes on his collar would glow, white hot. Dayan could smell the elf's skin burning beneath it. 

After it seemed he was going to continue fighting to change to his bear form, the guards began to beat him with fists and feet, so he'd quieten. Dayan's hands twitched to grab his scimitars; his vision was blurred, edged in white. Something felt hot in his head, and warm wetness covered his cheeks.

He actually felt himself start to lurch forward, a hand moving to his weapon of its own accord, but a grip on his arm stopped him. One of his fellow house swords -- he gave Dayan a quick shake of the head. The drow gritted his teeth in grief and anger and turned back, but did not move again. 

Betrayer. That's what he truly was. He'd caused this. He doubted Halsin would ever forgive him.

Halsin finally collapsed, bloodied but alive, and docile as a lamb as all the fight in him evaporated. He lay limply, sobbing softly to himself, and didn't look up when Dayan came closer. The drow raised the dagger, watching those powerful, broad shoulders shake, and then stepped back and dropped his hand to his side.

"...I can't," he whispered. The Matron stepped up to him and grabbed him by the hair -- she was at least half a head taller than him. She yanked his head back painfully.

"Say it again. I want to be sure I heard you correctly, jaluk," she snarled and Dayan gritted his teeth.

"My lady, look at him! He's in tears, I, I can't..." He swallowed, then set his jaw firmly. "I won't."

She didn't even take a moment of consideration. With more strength than he thought she would have, she shoved him into the waiting arms of two of his fellow guardsmen. They'd traded amusing stories just a night ago, he thought idly. But they grabbed him without hesitation, held him painfully tight, arms wrenched so far behind his back his shoulders creaked. 

"Twenty lashes," she told them dispassionately. "Rub rock salt into the wounds. Then fifteen more. A cell afterwards." 

Halsin didn't raise his head as Dayan was dragged from the chamber. He didn't raise it when the Matron straddled him, dagger in hand, one of her sharp stiletto heels spearing into his back as she bent down and grabbed his hair in a fist. "These men are all the damned same," she spat. "Weak and soft and pathetic."

The last thing Dayan heard before being pulled back into the dark, was a knife slicing cleanly through hair, undercut every so often with a ragged, broken sob. 

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈ 

When Halsin rose that morning, his hair tickled his heels. He ran to tell grandfather; he'd begun to grow it out because it delighted the old elf so. Reminded him of the olden days, he said, when he himself was a young elf in High Forest. It was somewhat old fashioned by the time Halsin was old enough to know how he wanted his hair, but he still liked it. He liked it the most when grandfather ran a wooden comb through the length and braided it for him while telling him the story of his life.

The day it tickled his heels had been the day his grandfather's body decided it was time to return to the earth. He'd cut a long, long strand from his head and his father wound it around grandfather's hands, clasped together on his chest. Halsin did the same for his father, when it was his turn to reside in High Forest; and then his mother, and brothers and sisters after. 

He'd laughed when the girls had taken his hair in hand at the summer festival and twined it in elaborate braids for fun. They pulled him to them by the braids cheekily, one by one, and kissed him until he was breathless and they were breathless and their entwined bodies spilled to the woven mats below. Drunk on Winterfest wine that tasted sweet against his lips, he kissed the boy beneath him as he begged for the braid to be unbound; to let it pool over their bodies as they made love. Afterwards the boy smiled softly in the moonlight, blue eyes aglow, and nuzzled into the nest of Halsin’s hair before settling against his chest and counting their shared heartbeats.

Netashe would tease him from below his window, ask him to let the long tresses flow down like a princess in a storybook. They'd gather it up in clever fingers and kiss those waves until he was red-faced and stammering, and tease him more. They'd taken a lock of it bound in green ribbon with them when they left to see the world. It was what inspired him to make his own journey.

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈ 

Halsin lay on the cold chamber floor, his voice lost to tears, his mind lost to the warm haze of memories

His neck felt cold, the goosebumps prickling along his bruised arms. They bade him rise, jabbed him with the butt of their spears when he didn't. He finally managed to drag himself to his feet, eyes cast away so he didn't have to see his kin, his history, his life cut from him and left on the floor for someone to sweep up and burn. 

"What do I do with this?" someone asked as he was escorted from the room.

"Ugh, get rid of it. Ugly thing," someone else said. "Who keeps an old rusted knife, anyway?"

He was never going home. He knew that now. No one was coming for him, and now he'd been cut from the only thread to his life under the sun, as easily as if the Matron had cut his throat. A part of him wished she had.

He was going to stay hers, until she tired of him, or needed to use him for some advantage, and then he'd be sacrificed to their vile goddess. Enemies could come and kill him in the night, the collar keeping him from defending himself. Or one of the Matron's daughters would succeed and he'd be quietly gotten rid of -- sold to another House or offered to one of the lower city brothels, perhaps. 

No matter what, he was going to die down here, away from the forest and the sun and Thaniel. All the colors of his world would be taken from him, one by one -- sunlight yellow and sky blue and rose red and violet eyes like gemstones.

There was nothing else left, now, but the memories. Intangible to the touch, unreachable and torturous. But they were all he had. Dayan had been wrong.

But Silvanus save him, Halsin so desperately wished he'd been right.

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

[movies-to-add-to-your-tbw]

Title: National Treasure

Rating: PG

Director: Jon Turteltaub

Cast: Nicolas Cage, Diane Kruger, Justin Bartha, Sean Bean, Jon Voight, Harvey Keitel, Christopher Plummer, David Dayan Fisher, Stewart Finlay-McLennan, Oleg Taktarov, Stephen A. Pope, Annie Parisse, Mark Pellegrino, Armando Riesco, Erik King, Don McManus

Release year: 2004

Genres: thriller, mystery, adventure, action

Blurb: Ben Gates leads a group of treasure hunters to search for a chest of riches rumoured to have been stashed away by George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Benjamin Franklin during the Revolutionary War. The chest's whereabouts may lie in secret clues embedded in the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence...and Gates is in a race to find the gold before his enemies do.

[knuckleduster]

"The study of the Middle East has been a national priority in Israel from its inception, a priority extending far beyond the university gates. In Israel, this form of expertise is termed Mizrahanut (Orientalism, literally translated).141 Orientalism, Edward Said argued, is the system of knowledge production about the “Orient” through which the power of the European and US empires operate. It reflects Western ideas and imaginations about the “Orient” articulated through its production as distinct from the “Occident.”142 Building on Said’s theorization, Israeli sociologist Gil Eyal argues that Mizrahanut is a generic name for the complex of Israelis’ encounter with their geographic environment. It is a mechanism that draws and polices boundaries and examines phenomena from what the Israeli state defines as “the other side.”143 Mizrahanim (Orientalists) in Israel therefore include not only academics, but government and military officials, journalists, and others engaged in monitoring the Palestinian population and neighboring Arab countries and participating in public debates on Middle Eastern affairs.144

Israeli Middle East Studies indeed developed at the intersection of Israeli academia, the military, and the state. Mizrahanut was central to the establishment of Israeli academia itself, with the Institute for Orient Studies developed as one of the first three schools of Hebrew University.145 In a study of the foundational generations of Israeli Middle East studies scholars, Eyal Clyne shows that many saw no distinction between their scholarly and national commitments.146 In the 1930s and 1940s, the Institute for Oriental Studies at Hebrew University trained entire cohorts of advisors and officials serving the Zionist movement leadership, who joined the “Arab branch” of the Haganah paramilitary and the departments for Arab affairs and politics of the Jewish Agency. They worked to monitor the Arab press, catalogue and index intelligence data collected on Palestinians, and survey actions, attitudes, and social relations in Palestine and neighboring Arab countries. Having served roles in political intelligence and hasbara in the prestate years, roughly half of these Mizrahanim returned to Hebrew University after the state’s establishment to found the contemporary Department of Islamic and Middle Eastern Studies.147

Following the Institute for Oriental Studies, the Dayan Center for Middle Eastern and African Studies was formed as a node of the Israeli state network of intelligence expertise. First called the Shiloah Institute, the center was established by the Israeli military, the Ministries of Defense and Foreign Affairs, and Hebrew University in 1959. It was annexed to Tel Aviv University in 1966 and was renamed after Moshe Dayan, former Israeli chief of staff and minister of defense, in 1983.148 At its inception, the Dayan Center was founded to serve as a bridge between the Israeli Intelligence Division and academia. It was staffed by both academics and representatives from Israel’s Foreign Office, and regularly published articles by military and state officials and hosted them at conferences.149 At Tel Aviv University, it continued to invite military leaders as guest researchers to publish their own work and to contribute to the institute’s publications. Many of its researchers—who formerly or continuously served in the Israeli Intelligence Corps—received classified military information for their studies, while intelligence officers and state officials staffed the institute’s committee to select research projects and award research grants.150 The institute operated within Tel Aviv University as a semi-secret enclave, barring access to Palestinian citizens of Israel and those without state security clearance, including access to master’s and doctoral theses that drew on classified data.151 As such, the center’s knowledge production was structured like the Israeli Intelligence Corps and served as the military’s auxiliary research arm.

This entanglement of university, military, and state expertise shaped the discipline in its early years. Many of the founding Israeli Middle East studies scholars moved between or held parallel roles in academia and the security establishment or were otherwise bound by loyalty and secrecy commitments to state apparatuses.152 Prominent examples include Meir Kister, Israel Prize laureate and founder of the Arabic language departments at Hebrew University and the University of Haifa, who also worked for the Haganah’s intelligence agency. Also at Hebrew University, Israel Prize laureate for Mizrahanut Yaakov Landau supplied research on Palestinian citizens of Israel to the Prime Minister’s Office Advisor on Arab Affairs, from which he received materials and proposed research topics. At Tel Aviv University, Yaakov Shimoni contributed his expertise in Arabic and Arab politics to the Israeli military, as well as to Israel’s decision to institutionally prevent the return of Palestinian refugees between 1947 and 1949, in direct violation of UN resolution 194.153

With Israel’s establishment of a military government in the Occupied Palestinian Territory in 1967 came renewed opportunities for academic cooperation with the state. Hebrew University professors Menachem Milson, Amnon Cohen, Moshe Sharon, and Moshe Maoz served as Arab Affairs advisors to the Israeli military and government. Milson also served as the inaugural head of the Civil Administration, Israel’s military administration in the OPT, and oversaw the forced closure of the Palestinian Birzeit University beginning in 1981; Cohen, Sharon, and Maoz served as colonels and worked with the military throughout their academic careers. At Tel Aviv University, professor Zvi Elpeleg drew on his expertise as a scholar of Palestinian history while repeatedly serving as military governor over various regions of the OPT, including the Gaza Strip and Nablus.154

Leading Middle East studies scholars maintain ties to security apparatuses to this day. Some serve in senior positions in the Intelligence Corps or other elite military units throughout their academic tenure, others secure data or funding from state agencies for their research, and others still are officially or in a classified manner employed by state and military institutions as researchers or instructors.155 Though they no longer officially operate under the Israeli security state, the leading Middle East studies departments and institutes continue to conduct research and offer expertise in its service."

Maya Wind, Towers of Ivory and Steel: How Israeli Universities Deny Palestinian Freedom, Verso (2024) (p. 59-63)

141 Eyal Clyne, Orientalism, Zionism, and Academic Practice: Middle East and Islam Studies in Israeli Universities (New York: Routledge, 2019), 527. 142 Edward W. Said, Orientalism (New York: Vintage Books, 1979); Nadia Abu El-Haj, “Edward Said and the Political Present,” American Ethnologist 32, no. 4 (2005): 538–55. 143 Said, Orientalism; Gil Eyal, Disenchantment of the Orient: Expertise in Arab Affairs and the Israeli State (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2006), 22–3. 144 Eyal, Disenchantment of the Orient. All major Israeli news media employ one or more full-time experts under the job title of “commentator/correspondent on Arab affairs.” Diverse government agencies such as intelligence and security bodies, the Ministries of Justice, Education, and Religions, and diplomatic offices employ officially titled Mizrahanim in advisory positions, as do independent think tanks, research institutions, and NGOs. Clyne, Orientalism, Zionism, and Academic Practice, 550. 145 Clyne, Orientalism, Zionism, and Academic Practice; Eyal, Disenchantment of the Orient. 146 Clyne, Orientalism, Zionism, and Academic Practice. 147 Ibid. 148 Ibid.; Moshe Dayan Center for Middle Eastern and African Studies, “About Moshe Dayan Center” [in Hebrew], dayan.org.149 Ibid.; Eyal, Disenchantment of the Orient. 150 Eyal, Disenchantment of the Orient. 151 Ibid.

[sassynsweet179]

TO THE MEN...

1. Find male friends who warn you when you are heading in the wrong direction, not men who watch you walk into a fire and think its none of their business

2. Find male friends who respect the woman you love, not the ones who incite you to mistreat her and take her for granted

3. Find male friends who you can trust with your children and can mentor them, not those who are horrible role models

4. Find male friends who invest with you, not those who waste your money as they drink with you

5. Find male friends who are about making a legacy, not just making money

6. Find male friends who will value your family and understand why you need to go home early, not those who rubbish your home and steal your family time

7. Find male friends you can vent to and open up to, not those you pretend you are buddies with but you can't trust with your struggles

8. Find male friends who will rebuke you when you don't treat your wife right, not those who encourage you to slap and dominate her

9. Find male friends who will tell you tough truths as a brother, not those who stroke your ego because they want something from you

10. Find male friends with a vision and who sharpen you like iron sharpens iron, not those who are comfortable in being lost and waste your greatness

11. Find male friends who want to talk about life issues and the state of your inner man as they pray with you, not those who all they talk about is sports

12. Find male friends who teach you how to respect women, not those who lure you into talking about women as sex objects and trophies

13. Find male friends who seek solutions, not those who talk big about politics but do nothing to impact society

TO THE LADIES...

1. Find lady friends who pray and inspire, not those who gossip

2. Find lady friends who respect your man, not those who trash him

3. Find lady friends who snap you out of your negativity, not those who join you in complaining and feeling sorry

4. Find lady friends who you can rely on to take care of your children in case of an emergency, not those you can't trust to model values to your young ones

5. Find lady friends who bring you progress and peace, not those who bring you drama and scandals

6. Find lady friends who give you good advice born out of sisterly love and wisdom, not those who mislead you due to their bitterness and jealousy

7. Find lady friends who invest with you and tell you of opportunities, not those who are OK with their current season as they tell you juicy news about others

8. Find lady friends who are happy for your growth and want you to succeed, not those who see you as a threat

9. Find lady friends who respect your love life, not those who make moves on your man

10. Find lady friends who challenge your mind, not those who only talk about beauty and trends

11. Find lady friends who will bless you, not those who will drain you and use you

12. Find lady friends who will calm you down when you are about to make an irrational decision, not those who cheer you on as you mess up

13. Find lady friends who keep your secrets, not those who pretend to be good to you only to share your private matters with others and betray you

Look for friends who bring you peer influence, not peer pressure

© Dayan Masinde

In my book, MANHOOD SERIES, I demistify what being a man is and I address the man's sexuality, emotions, thoughts and struggles.

In my other book, WOMANHOOD SERIES, I talk how a woman can be the best her as an individual, a wife, a mother, a friend and as a believer in God. I also address her sexuality.

______________________________________

To purchase the MANHOOD SERIES written by Dayan Masinde, MPESA Ksh. 200 to 0721590954, then text the word MAN and your email address to the same number and the book will be sent to your email address for you to download and read on your phone or computer.

To purchase the WOMANHOOD SERIES written by Dayan Masinde, MPESA Ksh. 200 to 0721590954, then text the word WOMAN and your email address to the same number and the book will be sent to your email address for you to download and read on your phone or computer.

[funkymbtifiction]

Night of Wonders Release

The last nine months have built up to this moment, the release of my YA novel, Night of Wonders! (For those not in America, you can also get it on Smashwords.) It's at a discounted price for one week only at Amazon (a mere $1.99), so grab it now! It's clean YA fantasy with an all Indian cast.

Eighteen-year-old Anik works in India’s magical Library, where ancient books come to life and whisper their secrets. It’s a dangerous job, since Anik possesses hidden magic forbidden to his caste. If Anik’s magic is discovered, a witch known as the Dayan will remove his powers—and his soul, a fate that soon befalls his master, the Librarian. Though horrified by this injustice, Anik accepts the position of Librarian in his master’s stead, working for the ruthless maharaja who owns the Library. For the first time, he meets the maharaja’s twins, Nyan and Ishana. They are different as night and day. Nyan is quiet and mysterious; Ishana bold and provocative. Gifted in the magical arts, the twins intend to participate in the Night of Wonders, competing with thousands of enchanters from all across India. To reach the competition, Anik must accompany the Library hundreds of miles through a haunted jungle full of unseen threats. He knows the danger of drawing attention to himself, but the more time he spends with Ishana, the more he falls in love with her. Forbidden romance becomes the least of Anik’s problems when a dark presence arises in their midst; a creature hated and feared among the enchanters. As the Night of Wonders turns to a night of terrors, the fate of the Library itself hangs in the balance…

ARC Reader Review:

I think if I had read this book as a teenager it could have become one of my "stays forever in my memory" novels. This is not to say that I don't enjoy it as an adult! I enjoyed it very much - what I'm trying to get at is a quality of enchantment that my younger self would especially have cherished. [...] So if you love fantasy and romance, definitely try this book! Just be warned that, like the books in the Library Anik guards, it casts its own spell - you may not be able to put it down until you turn the last page!

Read more reviews at Goodreads.

[rabbitcruiser]

National Aperitif Day

National Aperitif Day is celebrated annually on the third Thursday in May. This year, it takes place on May 18. The day appreciates aperitifs — drinks taken before meals, such as fizz, dry vermouth, and white wine.

Although aperitifs originated in France, they are consumed by people all over the globe. They are flavorful and serve as the standout ingredient in many cocktail recipes.

History of National Aperitif Day

An aperitif is a refreshing alcoholic drink served before a meal to stimulate the appetite. It is a liquid appetizer. Aperitifs are usually served to guests during a dinner party, with or without food. Of course, there’s no rule that you can’t unwind with aperitif after a long day. From Campari and Aperol to cocktails like the martini, aperitifs are available in many brands and forms. The spirit offers a delightful and flavorful drinking experience.

The word ‘aperitif’ is French. However, in Italian, it is known as ‘aperitivo.’ Both words have their roots in the Latin word ‘aperire,’ meaning ‘to open, or uncover.’ These drinks were designed to heighten the appetite and prepare the palate for food. Most people serve aperitifs with complex or fatty meals. The word ‘aperitif’ may be used to describe a class of alcoholic beverages and cocktails in which they’re found. These cocktails and alcoholic drinks usually contain herbs or other ingredients that whet the drinker’s appetite.

Aperitifs are very common in Europe, especially in France and Italy. They’re often served as parlor drinks before and after dinner for a heightened dining experience. Instead of an aperitif, some prefer to drink a digestif — a drink that aids in digestion —  at the end of their meal. Similar to the American happy hour, bars in Europe serve aperitifs with light snacks for their patrons to enjoy.

National Aperitif Day timeline

5th Century The Earliest Mention of Aperitifs

Diadochos of Photiki mentions aperitifs in his works.

18th Century Italy Becomes the Aperitif Center

Entrepreneurs in Turin, Italy, begin producing large quantities of aperitifs.

1860 The Rise of the Campari Group

Gaspare Campari creates the iconic aperitif brand: Campari.

1900s Aperitifs Arrive in the U.S.

The aperitif travels to the U.S. from Europe.

National Aperitif Day FAQs

What is an example of an aperitif?

Classic aperitifs include dry vermouth, white wine, fizz, and bitter drinks like Campari.

What is the most popular aperitif?

The most famous one-name aperitif is Campari. Its recipe has been a secret since 1860, when its creator, Gaspare Campari, first began bottling his product.

How is an aperitif served?

It’s typically paired with a slice of fruit — for looks and a pre-dining nibble.

National Aperitif Day Activities

Host a dinner party

Make your own cocktails

Visit a bar

Celebrate National Aperitif Day by hosting a dinner party. However, this cannot be just any other party. Remember to begin the meal with aperitifs and end it in style with another variety of aperitifs or digestifs.

Show off your bartending skills on National Aperitif Day. Whip up your favorite aperitif-based cocktails or experiment with new recipes and call your friends over for a little taste test — how fun does that sound?

Does your favorite bar serve the best aperitif cocktails? Celebrate National Aperitif Day with your favorite aperitif cocktails at your favorite bar. Invite your friends to join the fun too!

5 Interesting Facts About Aperitifs

The Queen has a favorite aperitif

There’s a reason why aperitifs are bitter

Campari got its red color from beetles

Digestifs are the opposite of aperitifs

James Bond loved aperitifs

The Queen’s favorite aperitif is a gin and Dubonnet garnished with lemon.

Bitter drinks help us become more alert and ready for the meal we’re about to consume.

When it was first produced, Campari got its bright red color from cochineal beetles.

Unlike aperitifs, digestifs are served after food to aid your digestion.

The Negroni cocktail — Bond’s favorite — is traditionally made using gin, Campari, vermouth, and orange peel.

Why We Love National Aperitif Day

It appreciates aperitifs

It’s a day to relax

It encourages experimentation

We love National Aperitif Day because it appreciates delicious and culturally-rich aperitifs! It recognizes that aperitifs don’t just taste great but also get our appetites ready for a flavorful meal.

National Aperitif Day is celebrated by drinking aperitifs and aperitif-based cocktails. It is a holiday to get together with friends, visit your favorite bar, and let your hair down.

National Aperitif Day urges us to be creative and daring in our culinary experiments. So, throw in a dash of this and that to create the cocktail you’ve been dying to try.

Source

[newmusicradionetwork]

Austin Indie Band Under The Rug Share “laugh a lot” Off Their Upcoming 2-Part Album

Acclaimed indie band Under The Rug has shared the 2nd single off part 1 of their 2-part album, happiness is easy. The track, written by the band, is a tongue-in-cheek anthem that juxtaposes the levity of existence amongst life’s looming anxieties and horrors. “laugh a lot” is now available to stream and download on digital platforms worldwide. Under The Rug’s new single “laugh a lot” captures the profound beauty found in life’s most challenging moments. Vocalist Casey Dayan shares a poignant story of being a closeted trans person in a motel, where even the mundane, or the ordinarily grotesque presence of a cockroach on a lamp became a comforting companion. This unexpected solace highlights how something typically seen as unfavorable can hold a surprising sweetness. Dayan recalls an emotional drive home, where tears turned to laughter at the absurdity and spectacle of it all. The single artfully navigates the tension between strength and self-pity, celebrating the intricate dance between joy and sorrow and ultimately embracing life’s rich, multifaceted nature. “So many times I’ve woken up into the worst parts of my life and laughed, and I think that’s beautiful somehow. That tension, between the awfulness and the laughing,” Dayan reveals. “I was once a closeted trans person in a motel where I was made to do things I didn’t want to. I remember staring at a roach on a lamp, its little antennae kind of waving mundanely, like it was saying hello or goodnight. In that moment, that cockroach was as good a friend to me as any—and isn’t that sweet? How something we usually consider to be so bad could also be so good?” Under The Rug’s upcoming album, happiness is easy, a continuation of their critically acclaimed work, is set to explore themes of joy, resilience, and the human experience. With their signature blend of indie, folk, and Americana, Under The Rug delivers another collection of songs and stories that resonate deeply with their audience. The album, featuring contributions from co-writers like Sam Hollander (Panic! At The Disco, Weezer) and Mason Jennings, alongside the expert production of David Peters, promises to be a poignant and insightful exploration of life and happiness. Over the past decade, Austin-based indie band Under The Rug has crafted a heartfelt musical journey that resonates deeply with their audience. Comprised of vocalist and guitarist Casey Dayan, guitarist Sean Campbell, and drummer Brendan McQueeney, the band masterfully blends indie, folk, and Americana, always with a strong emphasis on storytelling. Known for their DIY marketing approach, they’ve cultivated a dedicated fan base through handwritten letters and their exclusive membership service, The Secret Hideout. Praised by notable publications such as American Songwriter, Under The Radar, Rolling Stone India, and Atwood Magazine, and endorsed by John Darnielle of The Mountain Goats, Under The Rug has made significant waves in the indie music scene. Their acclaimed Junior LP, Homesick For Another World, and the viral hit “Lonesome and Mad” have further solidified their reputation. With their upcoming release, happiness is easy, and an exciting headlining US tour on the horizon, Under The Rug is poised to continue their remarkable success and touch even more hearts with their genuine and evocative music. As anticipation builds for the release of happiness is easy Part 1, Under The Rug continues to captivate listeners with its deeply personal and evocative storytelling. “laugh a lot” is a testament to the band’s ability to find light in the darkest of places, resonating with anyone who has found humor amidst hardship. As they prepare for their headlining US tour, which kicks off this August, fans can look forward to experiencing the band’s latest work live, where the raw emotion and authenticity of their music will undoubtedly shine. Under The Rug’s journey is one of resilience and creative evolution, and with happiness is easy, they invite us all to embrace the complexities of everyday human emotions. Don’t miss the chance to witness this next chapter from a band that truly understands the beauty of life’s most unexpected moments — stream “laugh a lot,” follow Under The Rug on Instagram @UnderTheRugMusic, and check out their website UnderTheRugMusic.com for tour dates and more information. Read the full article

[wingsfreedom]

Zionists' war crimes and genocide started in Palestine long time before Hamas or PLO even existed. This is not a secret for the rogue USA regime nor for the Zionists.

Moshe Dayan stated in 1956, just 8 years after Al Nakb:

"Let us not today fling accusation at the murderers. What cause have we to complain about their fierce hatred to us? For eight years now, they sit in their refugee camps in Gaza, and before [the Palestinians'] very eyes we are possessing the land and villages where they, and their ancestors, have lived … We are the generation of colonizers, and without the gun barrel we cannot plant a tree and build a home." [Benjamin Beit-Hallahmi, Origina Sins: Reflections on the History of Zionism and Israel, and Avi Shlaim Iron Wall, p. 101]

The same criminal as quoted in Haaretz, 4 April 1969:

"Jewish villages were built in the place of Arab villages. You do not even know the names of these Arab villages, and I do not blame you because geography books no longer exist, not only do the books not exist, the Arab villages are not there either. Nahlala rose in the place of Mahlul; Kibbutz Gvat in the place of Jibta; Kibbutz Sarid in the place of Huneifis; and Kefar Yehushua in the place of Tal al-Shuman. There is not one single place built in this country that did not have a former Arab population."

[privados0]

Dayana Secret🔐🌹 OnlyFans

[zooterchet]

National Lampoons: Animal House

University of Massachusetts-Amherst, Berkshire Valley.

War on Terror, 2003-2007, Counter-Rabbinical Program.

Program: Air Force Reserve Officer Training Corps, Airbase Operations.

Mentor Program: Resource Economics, Site Management.

Training Facility: Van Meter Dormitory, Subgenius Floor, Iran-Contra.

Hire of Facility: Joseph Kennedy III, Prosecutor, 4th District Massachusetts.

Representation: Garfield Lodge, marijuana and dominatrixes, abolition of contract labor, police training site "Bridgewater Triangle".

Forensics Field Forms (Deputies Union, State Police):

John Gotti ("Free the Weed", state police enforce rackets with coupons, mob in poverty without marijuana and police tenants in hostels).

Charles Floyd ("Master Herbert", the incarceration of Insane Clown Posse Mossad, investigation into Yardies "secret courts", the Russian Mafia).

Steven Flemmi ("The Entwhistle Incident", murder of Spanish Republican accountant family, John Warren Freemasonic Temple).

Vincent Gigante ("Hard Candy", Air Force investigation into Taunton Behavioral Ward, Queen Elizabeth II marked for war crimes tribunal, at duel of statesmanship).

Ted Bundy ("The Biggest Loser", mass incarceration of Canadian spies, all claiming allegiance to David Charlebois as United States President, of the MUSH).

Charles Manson ("Exalted", long range reconnaissance mission, the capture of John "Cusack" Washburne, for pedophilia related to Marvel Comics research, "The Amazing Spider-Man").

Timothy Leary ("Sin City", reprogramming of Ivan Tomasic, Secret Service, into Alan Moore, DC Comics Laureate).

Karl Unterweger ("The Dark Knight Rises", print of Bellevue program as "Law and Order: Gotham City", dooming Barack Obama to status as psychiatric patient controlled by the Jesuits; "Gotham", hits the airwaves, on FOX).

Moshe Dayan ("Point Break", rescue of Dr. Joshua Golden, from B'nai B'rith Sheriffs service, South revealed as an anti-Semite).

Richard Ramirez ("Autism Candles", shutdown of Clinton Foundation and oil numbers out of Jordan, Bill Clinton informed Jordan has no oil, just a large and shallow river; already mined for gold, 2000 BC, "Hindu Dindu").

Reinhard Heydrich ("Covid-19", Taiwan invades Ukraine, to take away Russia's only food and water supply; Elon Musk, representative of INTERPOL, triumphs, at creating a black hole, the Twitter universe).

[drmaqazi]

JEWISH TERRORISM AND GENOCIDE IOF PALESTINIANS IN OCCUPIED HOLY LAND (PALESTINE) SINCE 1948 AND STILL CONTINUING BY KILLING OF CHILDREN, WOMEN AND OLD PEOPLE, UNDER THE EYES OF IMPOTENT SO-CALLED WORLD LEADERS, GOD FORBID!

October 14-15, 1953, Qibya. Ariel Sharon commands attack on Qibya, 42 homes destroyed, 60 civilians killed

Holy Week 1954, Haifa. Israelis desecrate  Christian cemeteries in Haifa

July 14, 1954, Egypt. Israeli Army intelligence, Modin, firebombs civilian post office in Egypt After 50 years, President Katsav presents three surviving members with certificates of appreciation for the false flag operation.

October 29, 1956, terrorist atrocity in Kafr Qasim, 47 cold-blooded murders

November 13, 1966, village of Sammu attacked, 18 dead, 100 wounded

In a false flag to blame Egypt, Israel attacked the USS Liberty, even machine-gunning drowning US sailors

June 8, 1967, USS Liberty attacked 34 sailors dead, 170 wounded -- not civilians, but non-participants.

Try watching this video on www.youtube.com, or enable JavaScript if it is

More on Jewish false flag attacks here.

June 5, 1967, “In danger of being attacked” Israel launches war, 759 Israelis and 15,000 Arabs dead

Netanyahu’s False Narrative of Self-Defense

Marjorie Cohn - CounterPunch

Historical Myth Justifies Israel’s Golan Heights Occupation

Institute for Historical Review

For decades Israel has cited vital security concerns to justify its seizure of the Golan Heights. Israelis have claimed that from 1948 to June 1967, Syrian military forces repeatedly used the Heights to shell Jewish settlements and installations below. These artillery bombardments, in the widely accepted Israeli and American view, justified Israel’s conquest of the Heights in 1967, and its occupation ever since. Actually, Israel’s seizure and occupation of this territory is based on a historical lie. 

This was frankly acknowledged by IDF General and Israeli cabinet minister Moshe Dayan in an interview given in 1976, but which was not made public until April 1997.

On March 3, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu issued an impassioned plea to Congress to protect Israel by opposing diplomacy with Iran ... He reiterated the claim that Israel acted in the 1967 Six-Day War “to defend itself.” ... Israel relies on that narrative to continue occupying those Palestinian lands ...

http://mauricepinay.blogspot.com/2010/05/declassified-israeli-government-offered.html

http://sjlendman.blogspot.com/2013/05/lebanons-victory-day-of-national.html

[mademoiselle-red]

my kill me love me read-through, part 2: Ok so the main character, Meilin, was raised as an assassin by a secret assassin organization, but she isn’t good at her job. One day, she’s called in to replace a sick coworker from a different department within her organization. Except that department specializes in being seducing people and being honeytraps instead of killing people. So her boss disintegrated her martial arts skills & inner energy. And sent her on her very first mission, which is to replace one of the three hundred women who are to be married into the Dayan Kingdom’s royal and noble families…

Meilin thinks they gave her this job because she’s terrible at the assassin thing. She’s ok with it. Thinks her survival rate will likely be higher in this role. Like in other books in the genre, her organization poisoned her so that she’s reliant on a monthly antidote that only they can provide. Meilin’s goal at this moment is to survive as long as possible and maybe escape this life someday….

[m2024a]

Fedez e la casa nuovi per i suoi "amori", Dayane con De Martino, Belen lontana dai gossip I gossip più pungenti della settimana vedono protagonisti l'immancabile Fedez (in versione papà single), Stefano De Martino e Dayane Mello (gatta ci cova), Belen e l'aut aut della nuova manager (stop ai gossip) e l'ultima confessione di Tommaso Zorzi Nuova casa e frecciate a Chiara Ferragni: le ultime su Fedez Fedez ha detto ciao a mamma e papà e ha trovato un'altra casa, dove vivere la sua nuova condizione di padre separato e single. Il trasloco è già cominciato (e qualche indizio il rapper lo ha lasciato trapelare sui social network) ma a dare il suo indirizzo definitivo è stato il settimanale Oggi. Secondo la rivista Federico Lucia si è trasferito in un appartamento di ben 400 metri quadrati in piazza Castello poco distante da City Life, dove risiedono Chiara e i figli Leone e Vittoria. Un passaggio obbligato per rimanere vicino ai due bambini ma lontano abbastanza dall'ex moglie per potersi rifare una vita. "Il posto giusto in cui accogliere e vivermi i veri e unici amori della mia vita: Leo e Vittoria", avrebbe detto Fedez, che non si è risparmiato una sonora stoccata all'ex moglie: "Sono loro il carburante del mio benessere e il mio senso di vita". Ed è subito Ferragn(ex). La nuova fiamma di Stefano De Martino? Dayane Mello Certi amori non finiscono, fanno dei giri immensi e poi ritornano... La citazione sembra calzare a pennello per l'ultimo gossip che vede protagonista Stefano De Martino. I più pettegoli sostengono che l'ex ballerino di Amici, oggi conduttore a pieno titolo, abbia una nuova fiamma a scaldargli il cuore e il nome - Dayane Mello - non è nuovo accostato al suo. Nel 2017 (in una delle tante pause tra Belen e Stefano) la brasiliana frequentò De Martino per alcuni mesi, ma poi il flirt terminò. Sette anni dopo Dayane e Stefano avrebbero preso a frequentarsi nuovamente. Gli indizi sono due. Il primo lo ha fornito il giornalista Gabriele Parpiglia. "Pare che lui adesso abbia un nuovo flirt e la ragazza in questione è Dayane", ha dichiarato Parpiglia in diretta su Rtl 102.5. Il secondo, lo ha dato la diretta interessata. Pochi giorni fa la modella sudamericana ha rivelato che sta frequentando una persona conosciuta tempo fa, che ha un figlio. Tutti indizi che ricondurrebbero al bel Stefano. Fioriranno le rose? Zorzi: "Stanzani? Ho sbagliato ma ho un nuovo amore" Tommaso Zorzi è pronto a tornare in tv come giudice di "Cortesie per gli ospiti" su Real Time, ma nella sua vita c'è un'altra novità. Un nuovo amore. Lo ha confessato nell'ultima intervista rilasciata a Vanity Fair, dove ha ammesso di essere innamorato da alcuni mesi ma il nome del fortunato rimane top secret. "Non dirò nomi, cose e il resto. Non serve", si è limitato a dire, deludendo gossippari e curiosi. Il nome del suo ex, Tommaso Stanzani, invece è più che noto e di lui Zorzi ha voluto parlare nell'intervista quasi scusandosi. Infatti, l'addio sarebbe arrivato per colpa sua. "Non è successo un fatto eclatante, ma senz'altro non mi sono comportato bene con Tommaso perché ero completamente assorbito da me stesso", ha dichiarato l'ex gieffino, proseguendo: "Tendevo a non interpellarlo e a prendere io le decisioni, che si andasse a Cortina nel weekend o che si cambiasse il divano in salotto. Sono un pochino narcisista, è evidente". Palese. L'amore segreto di Belen, l'aut aut della manager Bruno Cerella? È già un ricordo lontano. Secondo i beneinformati Belen Rodriguez avrebbe già un altro amore, ma questa volta si starebbe sforzando di tenerlo ben nascosto. Il motivo? Questione di contratti. A dirlo è la blogger ed esperta di gossip Deianira Marzano, la quale ha condiviso con i suoi follower l'ultima soffiata sull'argentina. "Bruno Cerella non è più nel suo radar, l'ha salutato. Ha un amore segreto. Solo che deve tenere tutto nascosto e muoversi con discrezione. Ha una nuova manager che le vieta di fare troppo gossip", ha rivelato una fonte anonima della Marzano e la notizia è diventata virale in rete. Sul piatto ci sarebbero alcuni contratti in via di definizione (come la partecipazione a Ballando con le stelle) e Belen e la sua manager starebbero cercando di mettere un freno ai pettegolezzi. Ardua impresa.

[summarychannel]

Dalia Ziadeh and a new plan from Israel inside Egypt that has not been implemented since the October War... and the blood of Gaza will be the price

Updates on the Al-Aqsa Flood operation presented in this episode of Samri Channel. In its first part, the episode presents an important opinion article published by journalist Paul Idon in the English version of the Al-Arabi Al-Jadeed newspaper website, in which he recalled the history of Israeli settlements in Sinai between 1967 and 1979, which represented part of the plan of the entity’s Defense Minister at the time, General Moshe Dayan, to create a buffer zone between... Israel and Egypt were its biggest and strongest enemy at the time. Waydon stresses that Israel is today trying to revive Moshe Dayan’s plan in a smaller geographical area in terms of space, which is the Gaza Strip, as Tel Aviv wants to forcibly displace the Palestinians of Gaza to North Sinai, then fill the void in their place inside the Strip with Israeli settlements, in addition to loyal Palestinian human groups. to the Hebrew state. A report published by the Israeli newspaper Calcalist on October 13 revealed a secret document containing a recommendation from Israeli Intelligence Minister Gila Gamliel that the residents of Gaza be “forcibly” transferred to Sinai, after the end of the war currently taking place in the Strip. According to the Israeli newspaper, the Gamaliel document ostensibly addresses three proposals for implementation for the post-war period, but the proposal “that will lead to positive and long-term strategic results” is to transfer the citizens of Gaza to Sinai, according to the document.

Based on the document obtained by Calcalist, this proposal includes 4 steps:

Establishing tent cities in the Sinai Peninsula, southwest of the Gaza Strip. Establishing a humanitarian corridor to help the population. Building cities in North Sinai. Establishing a control zone several kilometers wide inside Egypt, south of the border with Israel, so that evacuated residents cannot return.

The Israeli newspaper indicated that the document also calls for creating cooperation with the largest possible number of other countries, so that they can receive the Palestinians displaced from Gaza, as the State of Canada and some European countries, such as Greece and Spain, and some North African countries, were mentioned, among other countries. . Despite the sensitivity of the information, the Israeli newspaper confirmed that the document does not reflect an “official plan” from the Israeli government, but so far, it remains “a proposal from the Israeli Minister of Intelligence.” The Israeli newspaper also reported that, according to former Intelligence Minister, MK Eleazar Stern, “the ministry does not have any ministerial responsibility towards the intelligence services. They can take recommendations into consideration, but do not impose proposals on them.”

The second part of the episode refers to renewed military clashes between Hezbollah and the Israeli occupation army. The National News Agency reported that Israeli forces bombed with white phosphorus shells an area between the towns of Mays al-Jabal and Hula and the Israeli site of al-Manara. The agency added today (Friday) that Israeli forces also raided the outskirts of the town of Aita al-Shaab, the outskirts of the town of al-Abad, and the area between the towns of Zabqin and Tayr Harfa.

Today (Friday), Hezbollah claimed responsibility for about 10 attacks on Israeli sites on the border with southern Lebanon, which included the sites: Trihat Triangle, Al-Marj site, Ramim barracks, Al-Malikiyah site, Al-Dhahira site, Al-Asi site, and Birkat Risha site. The surroundings of the monk site, and the surroundings of the Metulla site. The Israeli army said, in a statement, that during the past hours it had detected the launching of several guided missiles from southern Lebanon, and responded to the sources of fire, adding that it had also bombed what it described as “Hezbollah’s infrastructure.”

 He added that his soldiers monitored the launch of a drone that crossed from southern Lebanon into Israel, before it was shot down. The Lebanese-Israeli border is witnessing escalating clashes between Hezbollah and Palestinian factions on one side, and Israeli forces on the other side, as Lebanese and Palestinian fighters target Israeli positions from southern Lebanon with missiles, and Israeli forces respond with artillery and air strikes targeting Lebanese towns.

#Egypt #Palestine #Gaza