#sheba leaves his life

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Interviews for New Beginnings: Part 3

Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

Words: 4,990, Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Sexism, Arguing, Man trying to get with reader.

A/N: AAAHHHH PART 3?!!? Guys this is so much fun for me and I'm so glad you guys are having fun too. Is it weird that I feel like we are doing this together? Also guys just to warn you... we are getting a little angsty,,, a little violent... So if you are not into it, comment and I will give you the general plot of this chapter if it become too much! Anyway please enjoy, love you guys so much! And if I forgot to add you to the taglist I am so sorry! Just lemme know and I'll amend it! And if you need to see the other parts, click the tag with the title of the series, and it should have all the parts together! Ok I’m done!

The home of Alfie Solomons was the quintessential diorama of an old man's bachelor pad. Despite the anxious and angsty attempts by his elderly maid Sarah, the home still carried the air of a man who not only preferred to be left alone, but also had no plans of adding anyone into his inner sanctum. There was paper and documents strewn about, half read books piled by his favorite chair, a hosting bar cart that was looking more ancient than him, and a massive dog making his home on the floor in front of the roaring fire. Alfie silently thanked Sarah for her efforts. Sarah was the best housekeeper he could have ever asked for, she was essentially silent, and did not scold him for the ever present animal pen he kept. Then only things she asked for was to be paid on time, for her Sabbath to be uninterrupted, and to be warned ahead of time if there was to be company. Luckily, he never had to concern her with the last item.

With a grunt he landed on his favorite chair, studying the unused love seat and the matching chair to his that sat across from him. It was a set that was meant to host, that was meant to have visitors and entertain. He had no idea why he bought them, they looked exactly as they did when he bought them three years ago. Untouched. And yet he couldn't help but imagine you sitting so prettily on the chair beside him. With every inhale he could smell the lingering scent of you on his jacket lapel. Clean, like plain soap and fresh air. A kiss of lavender oil that washed over him as you flipped your hair out of your face. He could see so clearly you laughing at his jokes, pouring out tea for you and him, rubbing Cyrils face and giggling at Alfie's gruffness. He could see you darning a small sock...

With a groan Alfie rubbed the visions out of his eyes like a dream. Because that's what it was isn't it? A stupid stupid dream. You were so... fresh and sweet and... frustrating and loud and obnoxious and such a know it all and... beautiful and kind and smart and...

Alfie huffed and got up to beg for sleep in his room, but his head on the pillow only ran through these reveries even more. You were much to young. 10 years his junior at least. You were pure and kind, and he was a bad man. It was an unequal yoke to carry. He had killed people in the war and at home. He had manipulated and schemed to get this. And you deserved more. You deserved a good man, a softer man. Someone who lived a quiet life and could give you a life above board, where you never had to look over your shoulder. Someone who was gentle and wouldn't argue with you, would just treat you like the Queen of Sheba. That is what you deserved. Not some old gangster with a bad back and dozens of men plotting his demise. With a sigh he resolved his promise. He would take care of you as long as you let him. Protect you from all the mess and nonsense of this job, and let you be the girl you are. And when it was time to let you go... he'd let you go. He could protect you and honor you ask long as you'd let him, but when the right man came along, he’d let you leave, knowing that you were safe. And with a sigh he rolled over, letting himself sleep for a few hours, his mind slipping off into a world where you maybe chose him, and made that other chair your favorite.

Across Camden you had just finished explaining to your mother that your very kind boss had just brought you home after a late night in the office. You had to assure her that you were safe and that he was very respectable, that no danger was present. Though the constant worrying and fussing irritated you sometimes, she was a good woman, a good mother, who just wanted the best for her oldest child.

Your mother and father got married incredibly young, and were forced to become acquainted with the world and it’s imbalances even earlier. Where you still got to be young and childless and educated, your mother at your age had already had you, and was working in the family tailors shop full time. The day you realized your mother could scarcely write her name, you heard your mother sobbing to your father late in the evening. It was then that you resolved to do your best in everything, making sure your mothers sacrifices weren’t in vain. And if it took a little white lie to keep her from having a heart attack? Well… it would be worth it.

“Ah I just don’t know darling, that seems awfully forward don’t you think? I don’t even remember your father being alone with me ever until our wedding night? Are we sure he is a good man? Do you have anything with you in your purse darling?”

“Mama I promise you everything is fine. I think his insistence in NOT letting me walk home is evidence enough yes?”

Your mother fiddled with the end of her long braid, a habit indicating her anxiety, a motion you know well, “Mmm I suppose… but darling I just worry. Young women now… very very independent and it is good but… oh I just don’t want you to be taken advantage of darling. Will you take a weapon or something with you?”

You laughed, and maybe you shouldn’t laugh at your own mother. But… oh it is your mother!!! The sweet woman that she was! Who refused to go to sleep without a candle, and forbid your father from cleaning his gun around her, and dropped many a plate due to loud noises… what does she know about a weapon!! “Mama what weapon?! Shall I bring a hand gun to work? Mama none of us know how to use a gun, except Papa and Eli! I’m ok I promise! My boss is not a dangerous man!”

From her place in the kitchen cabinet you heard her speak, “Oh hush! Of course not a gun!! You are absolutely ridiculous. No just take this pocket knife ok? Oh please don’t look so disturbed! It is in good condition and your father got it for me when he would have to work late at the tailors! Will just put it in your work bag please? For your poor mother? If you love me you’ll do it!”

With a laugh and a kiss on her soft cheek you affirmed her, “Of course mama, I could never refuse your gifts. Now now mama don’t be cross i am not teasing! Just promise me you don’t worry about me anymore! I am a grown woman and I am very capable of taking care of things. I learned from the best yeah?”

You mother nodded and kissed your cheek back, patting your head, “Yes yes. Well thank you my love. Now I’m off to bed, and you should too. Sleep well my darling.”

As you prepared for bed you felt a heaviness in the pit of your stomach. What would your mother say when she found out you had been lying to her? What if she did find out? What if she sees you with Alfie in the street? No no it wasn’t possible. Your mother hadn’t left this side of Camden in a decade, and she hates going farther than two blocks. No no it’s fine. You’re fine. And technically, it wasn’t a complete lie! No Alfie was honorable! And he was sweet! And he was handsome… and kind…. and smart… and rugged… if he weren’t a gangster you would’ve probably been matched with him… to be his wife.. No no! No what a childish fantasy. Those are the thoughts of a love struck child. He was your boss and that was it! So what if he was handsome? You were his secretary and that was it! And if he somehow decided to… promote you… you allowed a giggle to leave your chest as you blew out the lamp next to you. Tomorrow is another day.

Soon you developed a routine with Alfie, and the next few months seemed to fly like a wonderful dream. During the week you woke up, making yourself and Alfie lunch for day. The walk to the bakery was typically a lovely and brisk one, with the rising sun being your partner.

Upon arriving at the office, you make quick work of saying hello to the regular faces, and sneaking a sweet treat to Ollie. You set the kettle on, making sure a nice hot cup is ready for you and Alfie upon his arrival. A healthy amount of milk and sugar for you. Almost no milk for Alfie, but extra sugar. Then the daily schedule needs to be attended to. After working with Alfie for a few months you’ve developed a system of who gets what treatment. Some names get tea and a pleasant seat. Some get very bitter tea and must stand the entire time while they wait. Some get absolutely nothing, and are made to stand with their back to Alfie’s door, wondering how they will be summoned. Shot or call. During the meetings you take copious notes. Partially to make sure you don’t miss anything that Alfie will need to call upon later, partially to make visitors nervous about what is being recorded. You had become quite the necessary tool for Alfie. You added a certain glamour and class to the office. A sort of authority in the way you walked that continued to make weak men sweat in the office. Alfie’s favorite part of these meetings was having you re-read what was said, noticing that you added a certain something to keep the pressure on the other party. You were proving yourself an absolute natural.

It was during a day like this when Alfie came back from a ‘social visit’ with a big smile on his face, “Shalom treacle!! Get your coat darling we’re going out!”

You looked up from the calendar you were organizing, “Shalom Alfie, what do you mean we are going out? You have an appointment at 2, and you need to look at the numbers from last week and-“

“Hush woman, fuck the meeting I said we are going out.”

He grabbed your long coat from the hook, and held it open for you to put it on, “Now my love we have very special things today. You remember the gaming club Tommy mentioned? Well he found a place right? And today we are going to look at it and get a price for it.”

As you put your arms through the sleeves, and grabbed your scarf from Alfie you can’t help but question, “But what does this have to do with me? Why do you want me there?”

Alfie then finished his dressing of you by handing you your bag and offering you his arm, “What does this have to do with you? What does this have to do with you? Have I heard that right? Well my dear you put the fear of the devil himself into men like no other. Make them piss themselves. No no don’t laugh treacle it’s true! I need you to strike fear in the hearts of these sinners and help me find the holes. Think you can do it darling?”

The way he smiled at you… it made you want to do anything and everything for him. You smiled and nodded, “Let’s get on with it then.”

Alfie smiled even greater at the small smirk that played on your beautiful lips. He loved it when you worked with him like this. You walked arm and arm, laughing and carrying on like mischievous children ready to prank their teacher. You arrive at the possible location still laughing when you meet Thomas Shelby, and two other men, who you can only assume are the other Shelby brothers that you’ve heard so much about. Your eyes meet with Tommy’s, and you feel your stomach drop at the wink he gives you before walking toward you and Alfie. “Alfie, glad you could make it, “ he stoops down to grab your hand and kiss it, “Good to see you again darling. Let me introduce you to my brothers.”

You’re introduced to both Arthur and John. Your eyes soften at both their faces. John’s eyes show a soft mirth, a sweetness of a young man who still has so much to learn, much like Eli. Arthur… just looking at him your heart is heavy. You don’t know anything about him but his eyes look sad, and there is a weight to his shoulders that make you already feel quite sorry for him.

It takes about three flights of stairs to reach the top floor of the building. It's musty, clearly has not been used for some time, there are cobwebs and piles of dust over every counter, and the once white cloths covering the tables are now a dingy gray. Your wide eyes look up and around the space, clutching your notepad and pen to your chest, "What did this place used to be?"

Tommy answered, "It was once a bar, a little club run by some young idiot who thought he knew his way around this business. Couldn't make it past a year. Now.... it's been sitting vacant. Waiting for us."

You stray from Alfie's side, making notes of everything that would need to be done, "What all is included in the sale?"

"Everything. Tables, counters, fixtures, chairs. All for a reasonable price if you ask me."

"Mmmm Alfie will be the judge of that I think. Alfie, the wall paper will need to be redone yes? I think a richer color on the walls."

Alfie looked at Tommy and smiled, "Yes you're quite right treacle. A wine red yeah? Something indicative of the debauchery of such a hell hole."

"Mmm yes. Tommy, John, Arthur... how stable is this bar counter? How much would it cost to replace it?"

And so went the rest of the afternoon. You milling around the space making notes and sketches, and supplementing with the comments of the men in the room, who may or may not have been following you like ducklings. John and Arthur pulled curtains to let light in, and frankly John was more than willing to do what it took to gain a pleased smile from you. Once adequate notes had been taken, everyone sat around a table, waiting for the agent to come by and agree to a price.

During this part of the meeting, you tended to hold your tongue, only responding to when Alfie asked you to ‘refresh’ his memory on a particular point. It was these parts of the meetings that you could really see Alfie work his magic. Tommy Shelby and Alfie Solomons couldn’t be more different. Where Tommy was smooth and steady in tone, Alfie was a hurricane. A bear of a man who ripped things to shreds. Though on the surface it looked as though Alfie was merely destroying and rebuilding on a whim, there was a method. Study his opponent, memorize the motions and responses to his moves, and utilize it against them. Use previous information to flip and return on his enemy. It was a studied craft. Something you knew that had worked on for a long time. It was an art piece, and with every wink he threw your way, it was clear it was not just an act, but a piece of him. He was a gangster, through and through.

Soon enough, a deal was reached, and a plan was set in place for renovations to start the very next day. And in accordance with their 50/50 split, equal men of Shelby’s and Solomons’ men would be taking part in the work. All the men shook hands, you nodded and smiled at the Shelbys, quick to rebuff Tommy’s offer to take your hand again. Alfie seemed to be in a particularly good mood, and as you walked out of the building, he looked at you and said, “Oi... you hungry?"

You stopped and peered up in his eyes that were partially obscured by the wide brim of his hat, "Mr. Solomons are you asking me to dinner?"

He rolled his eyes, "Oh goodness... see this is why you can never be nice right? Because there you go... being cheeky with me... can never be a yes or no with you yeah? It's always got to be something with you innit? I mean - "

"Alfie Alfie! Yes I am hungry! Now take me to dinner and buy me a drink yeah?" You laughed at his blustering and grabbed his arm, making him meet your eyes, he huffed in response but couldn't keep the smile off his face.

"Buy you a drink yeah buy you a drink! Buy you a hobby so you stop harassing old men. I mean don't you have anything better to do than just be mean to your old boss?"

You laughed as you both walked away down the street, "What do you mean a hobby? My whole life now is just doing your bidding isn't it? And someone must keep you humble, all that business makes your head explode."

You let Alfie lead you to a clandestine pub a few blocks away, shrouded by family businesses and laughing people. As soon as Alfie walked in, the wait staff scurried around, clearing a table in the corner for both you and Alfie. Soon enough you had been given food and drink, and you felt increasingly more relaxed in your seat, facing away from the door opposite of Alfie. You allowed yourself to day dream in the comfortable silence you occupied. It didn't feel like dinner with your boss. It felt like dinner with a friend. Dinner with more than a friend. You imagined about what it would be like with Alfie all the time. To spend the afternoon with him walking through town, enjoying the sun and the conversation. To be taken to dinner with him, meet with friends and repeating faces. To be taken back home with him... sit in front of his fire... to fall asleep with him...

"Hello... treacle??" You're knocked out of your reverie with Alfie's bejeweled fingers waving in front of your face.

"Oh my gosh Alfie I'm so sorry! Yes whats wrong?"

Alfie laughed heartily head thrown back, "Goodness darling your mind must've been in fucking Timbuktu! I was asking if you wanted another drink?"

You felt the heat flush to your ears and cheeks and chuckled in your embarassment, "Oh my goodness I'm so embarrassed. No no I'm fine Alfie thank you. You go, I'll keep our table."

Alfie nodded and went to the bar to grab another glass of Rum. You proceeded to look around the cozy pub when a man slid into Alfie's seat. "Well hello beautiful. Mind if I sit here?"

Your eyes rushed to him. Young. Could be handsome if he cared to bathe and wash the stink of liquor off of him and change his shirt. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was sweaty. Stupid. Clearly so. "I'm sorry but you must be mistaking me for someone else. I'm here with my boss and you are sitting in his seat."

He sneered and winked at you, "Oh I saw the old man alright. Solomons yeah, I know him. I'm not too worried about the old man darling. Why don't you come sit with me yeah? I promise I am much more pleasant company."

The irritation was brewing in your stomach, but in truth you didn't want to cause a scene, "If you know Mr. Solomons then you either have a death wish or you are stupid. Please leave and get away from me. Mr. Solomons will not be happy to see you in his seat."

"You calling me stupid?"

"I am. You are clearly an imbecile, and a drunk one at that, now if you excuse me."

You proceeded to get up to find Alfie, when the man stood up and grabbed your arm, "You dumb bitch, how dare you get up. I'm trying to be nice to you!"

The table fell over with a clatter, and you began to scream, "Get off of me!!"

Before you could say another word Alfie came through wretching the man's hand off your arm, squeezing the man's neck."Now you listen to me right? You apologize to the young lady right now."

The young man's face began to slowly turn red, but he managed to splutter out, "Or what? You're gonna hit me with your cane?"

Alfie only seemed to squeeze tighter, and you saw something in Alfie's eyes that you've never seen before. It scared you. "No... no no... this is what's going to happen. If you don't apologize to the sweet young lady here. I will kill you. If you do apologize, I will not kill you. Now I think... I think that is a pretty generous offer yeah? And little man... I think you know who I am. And I think you know that killing little vermin like you doesn't bother me the least bit yeah? So what will it be? Quickly now!"

Without Alfie letting go, the slowly purpling face gasped out, "I'm sorry. I'm so... sorry ma'am."

You nodded back, feeling bile rise in your throat. Alfie dropped the man unceremoniously on the floor with a crack of the table. Without looking away from the gasping man he yelled to seemingly no one and everyone, "OUT!"

Every patron but you and the owner scrambled out with out a second thought. The bar owner locked the door and went to the back, and you felt your pulse quicken ringing in your ears. The sick in your stomach swirling. Alfie circled the still gasping man, who had bruises blooming on his throat, "Now... who taught you to grab women like that eh? Who said that was ok?"

The man didn't respond, and in anger Alfie kicked him right in the ribs. You screamed behind your hands as you heard the sickening thud and crack. Alfie grabbed the man by the collar and shoved him against the wall, 'WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? YOU THINK YOU CAN GRAB MY SECRETARY! YOU CAN GRAB MY GUEST?"

The young man began to sob, begging, and saying he was sorry. Alfie only continued, "Oh you crying now yeah? I thought you said you knew about me and weren't scared. That's why you thought you could harass my sweet secretary yeah? Well let me get you better acquainted."

With that, you saw the Mad Baker of Camden for the first time. Beating and beating and beating the man in front of you. Blood coating the knuckles of Alfie, as the young man's face proceeded to take the most brutal beating of it's life. You tried to stay quiet but it became too much, "ALFIE ENOUGH! It's enough Alfie!"

He paused, fist mid air as the man quivered underneath him. Alfie turned to you, "Enough? It's enough?? This man touched you without your permission and this is enough?!"

"You're going to kill him Alfie! Please enough!"

"I determine when it's enough!"

And he went back to punching him, growing more and more wrathful. And it became too much when the groans stopped, but the punches didn't. All you could do was scream at Alfie and weep. When Alfie finally finished and was heaving, you shoved a napkin in Alfie's hand and left without a word.

You began walking down the street, the tears streaming down your face. You didn't want anyone to see you crying, and the slowly setting sun aided. It was going to be an hour walk home. Your feet will hurt by the end of the night. But you didn't care. You needed the walk. You needed the air. You needed the scent of blood out of your nose and the sight of Alfie out of your mind. You had walked for who knows how long when you heard Alfie's voice yelling over the sound of a car, "Get in the car NOW!"

You looked over your shoulder, Alfie was yelling your name out the window of the car, with Ollie driving. You turned your head back and kept walking forward. You kept hearing Alfie curse, yelling your name, "Stop being a child and get in. DO AS I SAY NOW!"

"OR WHAT? YOU'LL BEAT ME WITHIN AN INCH OF MY LIFE??"

You tried to keep walking, but in a dangerous move the car sped and swerved in front of you, blocking your walk. You gasped as Alfie got out of the car, with a red stained, jeweled finger in your face, "Listen to me... you stop this act. You get in the car right now. You can be angry at me all you want but listen to me... you do not walk home alone. You work for me, you don't walk alone at night. Now. Get. In. The. Fucking. Car."

Tears were still streaming down your face, and you were so so angry with him, but you didn't have a choice. And your feet were hurting. With a huff you walk in the car, not letting him hold the door open for you. You sat in your seat, nodding at a very embarrassed looking Ollie. As soon as Alfie sat next to you, you stared out the window, looking at all the apartments whose occupants were definitely not listening in to your argument. You sat in silence for a few moments, but you couldn't hold it in any longer, "That was too far Alfie."

"I decide what is too far."

"You could have killed him."

"And the world would be better for it."

"You cannot treat people like that Alfie. He was just a child."

"A child who definitely would have hurt another woman in the future, he needed to learn a lesson."

You turned to him then, "Oh and that's how people are taught then yeah? Beating them to a bloody pulp any time they make you upset?"

He leaned in to your face, getting dangerously quiet, "This is my life darling. This is what you signed up for."

You scoffed, "I did not sign up to be a witness to you being a beast! This is not a way to live! This is heinous! You don't have a right to treat people this way!"

You didn't realize your volume, or the way your heart was racing. You were heaving, tears streaming down your face. His eyes... fixated on you. There was rage but you knew it wasn't at you, "I have every right darling. This is the life that has been given to me. Everything that I have, everything that I can give to you, Ollie, and the rest of the men in that distillery, is because of what I do. This world that we live in darling? You think that's fair? Nah... that ain't fair. If you want anything in this life... you need to take it. Grab it with both hands and never let go and never let anyone else take it. This is the way this world works beloved. This. This is what you signed up for. Now either grow up... or don't come back to the office."

You breath stopped. You didn't even consider that option. You felt more tears fall as you turn to face the window again. The rest of the car ride was in agonizing silence. You hated every minute. Alfie made no noise except a huff. After an infinity, you finally reached your home before you could move Alfie put his hand out, "Don't get up yet."

He grumbled as he got out of the car, looked around at both ends of the street, and then went to your door, opening it and helping you out. You refused to meet his eyes but you took his hand. You also let him walk you to the door, and as you reached for the door, you hear him cough and say, "I want you back at the office treacle alright? Course I do. But you really need to decide whether you can handle this. I hate seeing you upset I do darling. But this is who I am. This is the business. Now you need to decide if you can do it. Alright?"

You nodded your head limply. He just patted your head, feeling sick in his stomach, "Alright then. I'll know your answer if I don't see you tomorrow. Good night sweet heart."

"Goodnight Alfie." You whispered, turning your back quickly to run upstairs. Alfie would drive home in complete silence that night, agonizing about what would happen.

You ran past your whole family gathered around mending the laundry in the sitting room. You refused to tell you mother what happened, and didn't let Eli in your room. When your younger sister asked you what was wrong, you just cried in her chubby baby arms, while she patted your head with her child palms. You cried in your pillow, reliving the vision you saw, wondering what to do. You didn't want to see that kind of violence, you had never seen anything like that. But you loved this job. You loved your freedom. You loved spending time in the office, laughing with Alfie and meeting new people. You tossed and turned all night, but sleep would not take you. It was well past midnight when you finally felt the exhaustion of the day creep its' fingers over your eyes.

And then you smelled the smoke.

Tag List: @jokersqueenofchaos @hoodeddreams13 @satur9-saturnalia

[iisasarcasticlittleshite]

Atsumu Miya said it!

(CW: Swearing)

The day's bullshit weighed heavy on your weary shoulders as you forced yourself to go buy groceries before running home to tuck yourself in for the night.

You loved your job, really you did, but dear fuckery did it occasionally smack you in the face with a day from hell, you could barely keep track of the essentials you needed while cursing yourself for not shopping in advance.

Your phone exploding with texts every two minutes does not help.

After six different texts came in, you relented, rubbing at your eyes as you pulled the damn thing out of you pocket.

10 new messages from:

Miya: The Blonde One.

You groaned, and didn't care about the funny looks you got from the cashier as you set your things down on the rolling carpet, hitting the call button as you couldn't be bothered to text him back.

He answered in seconds.

"Finally! I've been textin' ya forever!"

Rolling your eyes, you made sure the happy leap of your traitorous heart didn't show in your voice. 'I only just got off work, shithead.'

"That was a whole twenty minutes ago! Thought ye'd died'r somethin' asshole!'

You and Atsumu had met two years ago, and had somehow ended up with the kind of friendship where swear words have become pet names. He'd clicked into your life like he'd always been there, two years felt like ten.

Now if you're hopeless heart would stop summersaulting every time you thought of him, like would be great.

You held the phone to your shoulder as the cashier scanned your items so you could load them up. 'You can hold off on crying your eyes out over me, I'm fine. Just had to pick some stuff up on the way home.'

"Too late, already started grieving." You can just imagine him throwing his hand over his heart with "tears" in his eyes. "So when ya gettin' home?"

'I dunno, ten minutes?'

"Sounds like ya know."

'Piss off I'm tired.'

"Yeah yeah, gotta go, later!"

You frowned at the screen as the call cut off suddenly. That was by far the shortest phone call you'd ever had with the national setter. Atsumu could talk the ears off an elephant.

The cashier told you your told, utterly indifferent to your divided attention even as you smiled sheepishly in apology for not greeting her verbally.

As you hauled your things back to the car, you considered calling him back, instead sitting in your car and scrolling through ten lines of utter nonsense texts to try and get your attention. Emoji's, random factoids, just your name repeated several times.

Yup, Atsumu was bored.

Smiling to yourself, you started the car, only to be greeted by the playlist he made you. 90% of it is songs you like, but the rest is purely there to annoy you. Meaning at any one time there's a chance you'll start your engine to Baby Shark.

This time it was a good one, leaving you smiling as you drove yourself home.

Quietly tired, you trudged up to your front door, eyes down as you slid your keys into the door, throwing your keys on the table in the hall on your way in, sliding off your shoes.

You padded to the kitchen, set down your shopping, considered crawling straight into bed as you sluggishly trudged through the living room.

All fatigue flew out of you as you pushed open the bedroom door, and found yourself yelping in surprise at the sight of an Olympic setter on your fucking bed, spread out with a bowl of grapes beside him like the queen of Sheba.

'Holy fuck Atsumu!'

Smug menace didn't miss a beat. 'You could knock, ya know?'

'Bitch, it's my house!' You wailed, clutching your now racing heart as you slowly came to realise- 'Wait, you're not supposed to be here!'

'Yeah yeah it's your house I heard ya.' Atsumu drawled, casually tossing another grape into his mouth. 'Have some grapes, s'good.'

'Atsumu, you are supposed to be in a different country right now!'

He'd told you himself about the away game in this week, a very long flight away.

The setter shrugged, but his cheeks were starting to gain some colour, making you immediately suspicious. 'I came back early. Used your spare key to get in so don't go lookin' for any broken locks or anythin'.'

'Did something happen?' You wondered as he sat up on the edge of your bed and you moved to sit beside him, curious.

'Nah, just missed ya is all.'

You arched a brow at that. You'd like to think that you know exactly when Atsumu's bullshitting, you've developed a sixth sense for it.

That, did not sound like bullshit. His eyes had darted away from you as he said it, ears turning pink among the thick blonde tresses of his hair.

'Uh huh...' You murmured, looking for words.

'Uh huh? That's all ya gotta say?' He wailed, affronted.

'No! You just put me on the spot!'

'Well figure it out, Shakespeare! I'm pourin' mah heart out here!'

'You call saying you missed me pouring your heart out?'

'If it ain't ya outta show me how it's done!' He huffed, folding his arms across that broad chest, so damn sure you wouldn't call his bluff.

Little did he know, you were sleep deprived, your patience at its end, and your budget for giving a fuck well and truly depleted.

'I hate seeing you leave. Every time you go it feels like the world's turned grey.'

Atsumu did a double take, head snapping back to face you so fast you thought he'd get whiplash.

But you aren't done.

'No one's ever made my name sound as good as you do when you say it, even when you're using it to annoy the shit outta me. You could tell me you'd made the worst mistake ever and I'd still think you were perfect. That Shakespeare enough for you?'

Atsumu's mouth was agape, eyes wide, blinking helplessly at you. That doe-eyed look, it was as if you'd hung the stars in the sky as you said every word while never once tearing your gaze from his.

You smiled gently, taking your finger to his chin to close his mouth for him. 'I'm taking a shower. You figure out your head, Miya.'

'Oh no you don't!'

Before you could so much as lift yourself from the bed, Atsumu was tackling you back onto your own sheets, his athlete's frame engulfing you as he pinned you desperately searching out your eyes.

'Tell me you mean all that.' He pleaded, eyes searching yours for even the slightest hint that you were joking. 'Tell me...tell me you love me.'

You peered up at him, your heart now at a gallop as if it could run and crash through your ribs, reaching desperately for him. Your voice was soft, as if you'd shatter if you spoke your feelings too loudly. No going back now.

'I love you.'

All at once, Atsumu's face lit up with a grin to put the world to shame, but you barely got to enjoy basking in his joy as he was suddenly kissing you, kissing you like it was the first and last time he'd ever get the chance.

He stole the air from your lungs as you chased the softness of him again and again, burying your fingers in the bleached blonde waves, keeping him hopelessly close.

He sighed happily when you finally allowed him breath, but he didn't go far, gently bumping his nose against yours. 'You know this means I win, right?'

'Is that so?'

'Obviously. I made you say it first.'

'Asshole.'

[arwasis]

I am Mohammed Habeeb, a 35-year-old father from Gaza, Palestine, blessed with three beautiful children: Lana (10), Abdullah (8), and Lim (4).

Abdullah's spirit embodies courage and determination, his laughter a beacon of hope amidst adversity. His dreams of becoming a programmer, alongside Lana's aspirations of becoming an interior designer and Lim's dream of becoming a doctor, remind us of the resilience of the human spirit.

In the first week of Abdullah's life, our world was shaken when he was diagnosed with Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome (HLHS). His tiny heart faced an immense challenge – only one chamber developed correctly, leaving the left side underdeveloped. We were presented with two daunting choices: embark on a complex medical journey, fraught with uncertainty, or face the unimaginable loss of our precious son. Choosing to fight alongside him was our only option.

Abdullah has since undergone three open-heart surgeries and numerous cardiac catheterizations at Sheba Medical Center in Israel, a beacon of hope amidst our darkest hours. Each surgery was a harrowing battle, marked by moments of uncertainty and fear. From his first surgery at a tender 12 days old to the latest, Abdullah's resilience has been awe-inspiring. However, his journey is far from over.

Now, at 8 years old, Abdullah requires urgent surgery to close a Fenestration Fontan. Every day, we hold onto hope as we navigate the complexities of his condition. Yet, our path is fraught with obstacles beyond medical challenges.

The recent war in Gaza shattered our once peaceful existence. Our cherished home, a symbol of stability and love, now stands in ruins, a casualty of conflict. Our children's dreams, once filled with promise, now face uncertainty amidst the chaos of displacement and destruction.

For 170 days, we have sought refuge in a makeshift camp in Rafah, where each day presents new trials – from scarce resources to uncertain futures. Our resilience is tested at every turn, yet we refuse to surrender to despair.

Today, we stand at a crossroads, embracing hope as we seek a path to safety and healing. Our journey leads us beyond borders, to Egypt, and onwards to the USA or Europe, where Abdullah can receive the care he urgently needs.

Your support is a lifeline in our journey, offering hope where there was once despair. Every donation, no matter the size, brings us one step closer to a future where Abdullah can thrive, where dreams are not bound by circumstance.

Note: This fundraising campaign is managed by a trusted friend on our behalf, ensuring the legitimacy of our cause amidst banking complexities.

[good-books-to-read]

Travel Destination: India

The Death of Vishnu by Manil Suri

Vishnu, the odd-job man, lies dying on the staircase of an apartment building while around him unfold the lives of its inhabitants: warring housewives, lovesick teenagers, a grieving widower. In a fevered state, Vishnu looks back on his love affair with the seductive Padmini and wonders if he might actually be the god Vishnu, guardian of the entire universe.

The Bandit Queens by Parini Shroff

Five years ago, Geeta good for nothing husband walked out leaving her, however the local villiage believe she killed him.

This untrue rumour has some perks, no one messes with her, harasses her or tries to control her (aka marry her), it’s even great for business nobody dares not to buy her jewellery.

However it does have it downside because other women are asking for advice on “losing” their husbands as well and some aren’t asking nicely.

The Marvelous Mirza Girls by Sheba Karim

 To cure her post–senior year slump, made worse by the loss of her aunt Sonia, Noreen is ready to follow her mom on a gap year trip to New Delhi, hoping India can lessen her grief and bring her voice back.

The Henna Artist by Alka Joshi

Lakshmi Shastri has spent years carving out a life for herself as a henna artist after fleeing her abusive husband and backward rural village for the Rajasthan capital.

Well-versed in apothecary and the miraculous properties of herbs, her services are highly sought after by upper-caste women, and Lakshmi’s success brings her within inches from her goal: total independence. That is, until the past she has so desperately tried to run from comes knocking at her door...

The Widows of Malabar Hill by Sujata Massey

Perveen Mistry, the daughter of a respected Zoroastrian family, has just joined her father's law firm, becoming one of the first female lawyers in India. Armed with a legal education from Oxford.

While handlings the will of a wealthy mill owner, Perveen comes across something strange all three widows have sighed away their inheritance to charity, how will they survive with nothing Are they being taken advantage of by an unscrupulous guardian? Perveen tries to investigate and realizes her instincts about the will were correct when tensions escalate to murder. It's her responsibility to figure out what really happened on Malabar Hill, and to ensure that nobody is in further danger.

[fleur-de-violette]

Homesickness and thalassophobia

AO3

Word count: 1294

Summary:

In retrospect, it would have been weird if Felix wasn’t afraid of water. Or: They’re getting Piers home. Even if it means fighting the ocean itself.

Note:

I have been obsessing again about this game, but now I have the power of fanfiction by my side. Also, I play in French and all the names are different, so hopefully I didn’t slip up and used a name I’m familiar with instead of the English ones but I apologize if it’s the case. I hope you’ll enjoy the fic!

In retrospect, it would have been weird if Felix wasn’t afraid of water. Between what happened when he was a kid and the Venus lighthouse, it had to leave some kind of trauma. Almost drowning twice would do that to a person.

But he jumped, back then, what seems like a lifetime ago. He jumped after Sheba, without thinking, maybe because if he had thought about it, he wouldn’t have done it. But she was a bystander in this, involved against her will, a helpless young woman. Or so he thoughts. She’s far from that, now. She showed him, showed all of them her will, her stubbornness, and her strength. She was right, in Garoh. The wind should never been underestimated. And neither should the water.

Maybe it didn’t help Felix that the first water adept he got to meet was Alex. Alex, much like water, was uncatchable. Unreliable. Unpredictable. Alex couldn’t be trusted, and that made Felix’s relationship with water much more difficult. He hadn’t gotten to know Mia, the girl that travelled with Isaac and Gareth, but if they trusted her, she might have been different from Alex.

Now Piers. Piers was different from Alex. On any point but maybe their physical appearance. Piers was almost too honest for his own good, telling total strangers he was from a mystical city. Piers was as right and as strong as the ocean itself. He was like a calm wave who could turn into a storm if needed. But he wasn’t unpredictable.

With time, Piers could have healed Felix relationship with water. Didn’t they say Mercury adepts could heal anything? Maybe time, the other thing that was rumored to heal all wounds, would have helped him. But time was precisely something they didn’t have. Time was running out. For them, and for the world.

And that meant they had to continue their quest, and continuing their quest meant sailing out. On a small boat, in the middle of the sea. Jenna had joked when they first left shore on the Lemurian ship and asked him if he wanted to take a bit of soil with him, so that he would always have earth. Felix had laughed, back then, but he found himself missing ground more often than not. He couldn’t help it. He was earth and earth was him. He guessed it was the same for his fellow adepts, but Sheba would always have air around her, she would never been deprived of her element. As for Jenna, she would always find something to ignite, the sun itself feeding her power.

Maybe water adepts would be able to understand. Alex sure hadn’t seemed bothered when they crossed the Suhalla desert, but again, this was Alex they were talking about. He didn’t think Piers had even been far away from water in his entire life. Maybe he would ask Mia. Maybe, if one day he was on speaking term with Isaac and his friends, he would ask her. Maybe. Once this was over.

Once this was over. Once all the lighthouses would have been lighted up. If there was still a world left, if Isaac forgave him, he would ask Mia about how she felt in the desert. For now. For now, they were just in the middle of the sea.

Piers had told him once that sailing was freedom. Felix couldn’t see it. He had always felt trapped on the boat, but Jenna and Sheba seemed to enjoy it. They seemed to find it feeing in a way. Even Kraden seemed to agree with Piers. So maybe he was right. Maybe freedom tasted like salt and smelled like iodine. Felix wouldn’t know. He hadn’t been free since that day the water took him away from his homeland. Burdened with the fate of his parents, with the fate of the world. Burdened with his mission.

But Sheba, who had been kidnapped from her loving adoptive family for the hubris of Babi, deserved freedom. Jenna, who thought she had lost everything only to find out it was a lie, and had immediately been taken away from Vale by Saturos and Menardi, deserved freedom. At least the illusion of it.

Because they weren’t on a cruise vacation. They were looking for answers. Answers on how to get to the west, to the remaining two lighthouses. Answers on how to reach Lemuria. Answers on how to get Piers back home. And to get Piers back home, they needed more than just traveling the see, Felix had realized. They needed to fight the God of oceans himself. Way for him to get over his thalassophobia.

Poseidon screams, and the boat rocks, and he falls to his knee. His first reflex is to look for Jenna, make sure she’s alright. One quick glace and he finds her, on the deck, fire dancing all around her as she prepares her next attack. Kraden was safely hidden inside the boat, and, for a second, Felix resented him for it. Of course, he couldn’t fight, he wasn’t an adept, he had no reason to be on the deck. But an irrational part of Felix’s mind still found it unfair. Why where they the ones responsible for the entire world?

Some might think being born an adept, being born with power surpassing all imagination, was a blessing. It wasn’t. It was a curse. A curse to be responsible for the entire world. A dying world.

Felix was earth, and earth was him. Earth was crying, screaming in his mind like a wounded animal. He had felt, briefly, at the Venus lighthouse, what he might be if alchemy was restored. It was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. Since then, the gift of psynergy flowing trough his veins had felt like poison. Like a drug. He needed to feel alchemy again. He needed more of it.

In a way, he almost understood Alex. What pity, to be born a powerful adept in a world where alchemy had been locked away from them.

Someone yells something at him, and he focuses himself back on the present. He looks up to see Piers above him, a water barrier protecting them both.

“Are you injured?” the sailor repeats, his hands glowing with the healing power of water and it’s almost ironic, considering almost every singe bit of water around them is trying to hurt them.

Felix shakes his head. “I’m ok,” he says. “I’m ok.” And then, to convince himself he says. “We’re getting you home.” No matter what. No matter how scary the water is. They will go home. They will all go home. “We’re getting to Vale.”

“What?” Piers asks.

Felix swallows. “We’re getting to Lemuria.”

Piers nods. “I would love to see Vale,” he says, seemingly out of blue. If, after everything, there is still anything of Vale left, Felix decides he will take him there. Secret village be damned, Piers is taking them to Lemuria.

“I would love to see Lemuria,” he says with the same tone.

Piers extends his arm to him. “Then get up, friend, this fight is not over.”

It seems like this fight will never be over, but Felix takes the offered hand. He catches Piers’s wrist and holds it tight. Water and earth interlocked. Piers had called him friend and that has to mean something.

He gathers his strength, calls upon the power of psynergy and feels it reflected by the Djinns he’s linked with. Next to him, he feels Jenna, Sheba and Piers do the same. He gives the sailor a smile. Water is all around them, trying to kill them, and he knows he should be afraid.

But he’s not alone, and at that moment, not everything seems so bad. Water doesn���t seem so bad, either.   

Note:

I remembered Poseidon to be a super hard boss but somehow, I beat him in one go in my current run? Watch me being stuck in dungeons for so long I gain way too much experience.   

[ireallylovepuppies101]

Cat-Dad AU 3

Part three!!!

Okay so life is going pretty well at the time for Felix and his boys. Felix is becoming an adventurer/author and loves his new line of work, even if leaving home for the first time was emotional hell having to say bye to his boys for a while and missing them SO MUCH as he traveled. It did however make coming home that much sweeter with Boris and Bendy running for him for welcome home hugs.

To celebrate Felix’s first book being published, he, Nora, Sheba, and Wilson take the boys to the circus since it’s back in town and would be a really fun family event to do together. Toddler Boris would love every, single, SECOND! Especially when his dad wins him a Mickey Mouse doll from one of the game booths. At one point Felix would claim they should get something to eat before the show starts, but both Bendy and Boris would want to keep playing the games, so Nora would tell Felix she’ll stay with her nephews while he, Sheba, and Wilson get some food and they’ll meet up with them later.

Things go well for a bit, though since inanimate objects tend to come to life around Nora thanks to her being zany, chaos would start happening. A person running a booth would start getting mad and accuse Nora of trying to cheat to get a prize, and the situation starts to escalate to the point where Bendy can see it getting pretty crazy soon. So he looks around, spots someone in the crowd, and tells his Aunty Nora that he and Boris are going to get their dad to help out.

Seeing where Bendy’s looking, Nora agrees and warns Bendy to hold Boris’ hand the whole time until the two reach their Dad. Doing as he’s told, Bendy quickly makes his way toward his dad, who for some reason keeps moving despite Bendy calling out to him. It takes a minute but Bendy finally reaches him and tugs at his pants.

Only, that’s not his Dad.

Bendy has a major double take when a confused cat woman looks down at him and Boris, he then looks around, and realizes he went pretty far following her because now he and Boris are lost. Poor Boris bursts into tears when he realizes this too and cries for their dad while the nice cat woman tries her best to calm Boris down and offers to help the two brothers. She takes them to where she’s meeting her husband and bother-in-law, who both freeze when they see her approach with two kids they’ve never seen before.

Her husband stares, before looking at his wife. “Gee Tense, I know we talked about having kids but this is a bit extreme.”

“Oh hush Ozzy!”

Seeing how one of the kids is crying his heart out while holding a Mickey Mouse doll, Mickey walks over and kneels down while smiling gently, assuring the wolf pup they’ll help him and his brother find their family so they can all enjoy their show. Boris slowly stops sobbing, still crying though, as he stares at Mickey. He looks back at Bendy who’s smiling excitedly for him, then he faces Mickey again before holding up his arms to be picked up.

It doesn’t take long for an announcement to be heard throughout the circus. “WOULD FELIX THE CAT PLEASE MAKE HIS WAY TO THE CLOSEST SECURITY STAFF MEMBER? HIS CHILDREN HAVE BEEN FOUND SAFE AND SOUND.” It also doesn’t take long for Felix to make his way to a security guard ASAP, muttering under his breath that he’s going to give his sister HELL the whole time. He’d be surprised seeing the stars of the circus taking care of his boys though. Both of them enjoying free hotdogs and drinks, Oswald and Ortensia show Bendy how to do some simple magic tricks, while Boris still tearing up is sitting in Mickey’s lap who looks over the moon happy to be holding and comforting a cute little fan of his.

Boris instantly cheers up when he and Bendy see their Dad is there, and they all share a laugh over how similar Ortensia and Felix look (they laugh even more when Nora and the others rush over and see how similar she is to Ortensia too). Felix thanks them so much and apologizes for the trouble he put the circus crew through, but Mickey would insist it was a pleasure meeting the boys and offers to give the whole family a backstage tour. By the end of the day, once the big circus performance is over and it’s time to go home, the boys would be exhausted. Bendy would be carried piggy-back style by Grandpa Wilson, while Boris would be carried in Felix’s arms. Boris is awake enough to see Mickey, Oswald, and Ortensia waving goodbye to them, and waves back before falling asleep in his Dad’s arms.

They all assume that they’ll probably not see each other again in person after that. Until one day while Felix takes his boys to play at the park, Boris freezes when he smells something, looks around, and runs after a nearby couple and wraps himself around the woman’s legs before Felix can stop him. Though the woman ends up laughing happily as she picks up Boris and hugs him closely before turning around with her husband, letting Felix see it’s Oswald and Ortensia who were out on a stroll together through the park. They all end up sitting down together at a bench, Oswald showing the boys more simple magic tricks while the adults have small talk. When Felix mentions he’s struggling to find a babysitter for the boys when his family is too busy to watch them, Ortensia would happily gasp and say she and Oswald would gladly watch the boys whenever Felix needs help.

After that, Felix and the boys’ family would get a bit bigger, and far more unique.

And now, time for the funfacts!

-Felix still gets a crush on Oswald in this AU, though due to Oswald being happily married, and him and Ortensia being one of Felix’s closest friends, Felix holds back his own feelings for their sake, since their happiness is far more important to him. Though he still struggles not to blush like crazy or get flustered around Oswald sometimes.

-Ortensia and Oswald babysitting is pretty much them practicing parenting. They do a decent job. So well in fact that over the years Bendy and Boris occasionally refer to them as Mama Tense and Papa Ozz. Oswald freaked out a little the first time they did that and apologized so much to Felix, who just laughed it off. “Oswald, They’re a demon and a wolf, they have a cat for a dad, an owl for a grandfather, and two cat women for an aunt and a godmother. It’s not the end of the world if they have another dad.”

-Ortensia got really emotional when she realized the boys see her as their mother figure. She proudly claims the boys and Felix as part of their family now and if anyone tries saying otherwise will have to deal with her fury!

-They also sometimes call Mickey Uncle Mic. Which made Mickey cryyyyyy.

-Mickey freaking loves spoiling Bendy and Boris rotten and being the fun uncle. He lets them get away with murder, and can’t bring himself to punish them for doing something naughty, especially when Boris gives him the puppy eyes.

-Ortensia actually helps Bendy learn how to dance. He’d know some basic stuff when they all met, but she’d show him all the things she learned from working at the circus. Bendy ends up being really good at trapeze dancing thanks to her. (partly inspired by The Greatest Showman movie lol)

-Felix also becomes good friends with Goofy, who gave him a lot of helpful tips on raising a pup. This also resulted in Bendy and Max having playdates as kids since they’re close in age. Boris played with them too but as a kid Max thought it was a bit annoying waiting for Bendy to help Boris keep up with them. They never really grow up being close buddies, but at least Bendy had someone in his age group to talk to, and Max would make the effort to invite Bendy to hang out with him and his friends as they got older.

[silver-stake-through-the-heart]

Jack x Harper is a parallel for King Solomon x Queen of Sheba.

Jack and the Queen of Sheba are Nephilims. Huge powers and (apparently) the same tendency to fly away and going MIA.

Harper and King Solomon are magicians/masters of witchcraft, with tendencies to delve into dark arts. They have creatures bound to them, carrying out their orders (demons and djinns for King Solomon, her ex-boyfriend for Harper).

Harper and King Solomon also doesn't want to let their Nephilim disappear out of their life:

13x08

Sam: The spell… I think it checks out. I put together a rough translation. Um, it's Canaanite. Dates back to the time of King Solomon, who apparently commissioned it to keep tabs on the Queen of Sheba, who, according to the lore, was half-angel. Dean: She was a nephilim? So, what you're saying is that King Solomon created a spell so that he could stalk his girlfriend.

which echoes the last words said by Harper in 14x06

Jack, I'm already writing. Isn't that crazy? I'm not crazy. But our love is so vivid. I can't wait to find you. You are the first man to ever get me to leave McCook. Now I'm in the world. I'm sorry I have to kill you for what you did to Vance but then I can bring you back so that we can be together again. It's gonna be perfect. See you soon. Love, Harper

[rhokisb]

“‘It’s been two weeks since my last encounter with Sheba.’ A week later he wrote, ‘North to Sheba. I need to see her everyday. I cannot focus on my work.’ It’s updated again, ‘Spent the night with Sheba, lost the potion for it.’ A day later, ‘I’m sick to my stomach. I feel famished, hope it’s not a sickness. Grey root not helping.’ A day after that, ‘Father Clarence is sick now too. Gave him a potion. My hair is falling out and I can’t see well. It’s not a flu. I’m quarantining myself.’” Orlogg looked around at the group before reading the final entry, “Took more of my blood yesterday. I can’t see at all.’”

“Maybe an illness took over the town, turned them into monsters.” Shenzu breaths came heavy as he spoke. Armand stood in a corner, a far off look in his eye, and said nothing at all.

“In any case, it will be best to not linger.”

“Really? I personally was thinking of buying a summer home here.” Dank muttered before turning to leave. Dante stopped him with a boot against the door frame, “We need to find the vial, or we wasted days and none of us will get paid.”

“Simple job. Easy money. Fetch. This is not fetch. This is some twisted monster creating sickness that wiped out an entire town. I don’t think twenty gold is worth my life.” Dank smacked Dante’s leg away from the frame before turning to look at the rest of the group.

~Day 22 of Weyard snips~

[thecandywrites]

Monster March Day 29- Dragon

Dragon's Rite Flight

@borealwrites I only have two left. Thank you everyone for your patience.

Monster March 2023 Day 29- Dragon

You tried not to cry as you carefully brushed and polished each scale of your dragon. It would only be a few more days before all the dragons themselves would take their own rite flight over the supersphere and you didn’t know how long your dragon would be gone for. Some dragons took only a few months, others took years. And while you got to help your parent’s dragons hatch this clutch out and help raise them. They had warned you for years, that this day was coming, and that this was always the eventuality. And that if dragons came back, they came back, or if they found a mate or a home elsewhere, they did. And while part of you wished yours would come back, you knew that the moment Monxa’s feet would leave the ground, the dragon you felt you knew almost as well as you knew yourself and one of your closest friends might never come back. And that if Monxa did, they would most likely not be the same Monxa that you had grown up with and grown so close to over the years. 

‘You could always come with me.’ Monxa suggested just as the first few tears fell from your eyes as they had blurred your vision. 

“No, the last thing you need is me being a cock block for you. No self respecting female dragon would want anything to do with you or want to be your mate if I’m the worst third wheel to have. I just, you’re my friend, I just want you to be happy, with whoever or wherever that happiness is for you in the world. But I also selfishly don’t want to lose you as my closest friend in the world.” You tried to say as you wiped your tears and just focused more on the scales. 

‘I will come back. I will bring my mate home to meet you. You’re my rider and no female from anywhere else is going to keep me from coming home to you. I know this ride is going to be the ride of my life and for this it’s going to help me see the world and orientate myself in it. That’s all it is. It’s not some mystical super secret adventure, I’ll tell you all about it and show it to you through my own eyes if I have to. Or, you could go inside, pack your damn bags and come with me, you could see and experience it yourself! Come on! It would be fun!’ He insisted. 

“Monxa! No! I would be an intruder!” You balked as he used his snout to push you towards the house. 

‘No you wouldn’t. Many dragons have taken their riders on the flights.’ He reminded you. 

“And then they never come back again, or if they do, it’s only to restock and refuel before they’re off again. I don’t…I can’t…I’m needed here. And if you’re so sure you’re coming back then I have so much work to do while you’re gone to get a proper home set up for you to bring your future mate to. Besides, I haven’t saved or prepared for such a thing. Such a trip would take at the very least weeks and months of saving and planning for, hell, Vivor and Sheba took years to plan their departure. And I just don’t have the time! You’re supposed to be flying out any minute now. Others have already left early and I don’t want you to miss your call while you wait on me. I have no way of supporting myself if I leave here. I have no way of talking or interacting with anyone else from anywhere else. You need to go and I need to stay. But, please, don’t be gone for five years like Vivor and Sheba did the first time. Ok? Just, if you’re going to settle somewhere, just come back and tell me ok? I can’t…” You tearfully pleaded with him. 

‘Then I’ll come back as soon as I can.’ He reassured you as he gently nuzzled you and you barely had finished with his scales before his call was heard and felt even in you as you tearfully kissed his head and watched him fly away. Clutching your favorite scale of his to your chest as you watched him join tens of thousands of others into the air and fly off into the horizon and all you could do was hope and pray that he would come back to you. 

However, within moments, he had somehow flew around and came in behind you and within moments, had picked you up and tried to carry you off. 

“Wait! Wait! Ok, ok, fine, fly me back, let me at least saddle you and ride you proper ok?” You called to him before he did and you had never been so happy he came back for you. You haphazardly packed everything you could think of to bring. Including every bit of physical wealth you could get your hands on. 

“What are you doing?” Your mother asked as she watched you practically run through the house, happy tears coming from your eyes as a happy and overjoyed smile was plastered on your face. 

“Going on the rite flight with Monxa!” You hollered back. 

“Figured, come here, I made this for you.” She said as she pulled out a very well packed pack for you that was hiding under a coat by the door. 

“You knew?” You asked her as you took it and put it on. 

“I had a feeling. Have fun, come home safe. But you should have enough to last you at least a year or so. Have fun Sweetheart. I know Monxa will take especially good care of you, and I trust you both to keep your wits about you and be safe out there.” She cooed as she hugged you and kissed your cheeks before she helped put the new helmet onto your head before you fled from the house and practically leaped onto Monxa’s saddle and held on and squealed in delight when he took to the air and in mere moments had rejoined the others who had left before you noticed you weren’t the only one to do so as there were now, hundreds of others riding their dragons for this pivotal flight. So that you at least had friends and wouldn’t be doing so all alone and on your own. You had Monxa’s wings and your parent’s love in the pack on your back and the saddle you were hanging onto as Monxa shared his sight with you as you could get a chance to see the air currents and the columns of hot or cold air. It was so beautiful. And the start of the perfect adventure.

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

10th July >> Mass Readings (USA)

Monday, Fourteenth Week in Ordinary Time 

(Liturgical Colour: Green: A (1))

First Reading Genesis 28:10-22a Jacob had a dream: a stairway rested on the ground and God’s messengers were going up and down on it and the Lord was speaking.

Jacob departed from Beer-sheba and proceeded toward Haran. When he came upon a certain shrine, as the sun had already set, he stopped there for the night. Taking one of the stones at the shrine, he put it under his head and lay down to sleep at that spot. Then he had a dream: a stairway rested on the ground, with its top reaching to the heavens; and God’s messengers were going up and down on it. And there was the LORD standing beside him and saying: “I, the LORD, am the God of your forefather Abraham and the God of Isaac; the land on which you are lying I will give to you and your descendants. These shall be as plentiful as the dust of the earth, and through them you shall spread out east and west, north and south. In you and your descendants all the nations of the earth shall find blessing. Know that I am with you; I will protect you wherever you go, and bring you back to this land. I will never leave you until I have done what I promised you.”

When Jacob awoke from his sleep, he exclaimed, “Truly, the LORD is in this spot, although I did not know it!” In solemn wonder he cried out: “How awesome is this shrine! This is nothing else but an abode of God, and that is the gateway to heaven!” Early the next morning Jacob took the stone that he had put under his head, set it up as a memorial stone, and poured oil on top of it. He called the site Bethel, whereas the former name of the town had been Luz.

Jacob then made this vow: “If God remains with me, to protect me on this journey I am making and to give me enough bread to eat and clothing to wear, and I come back safe to my father’s house, the LORD shall be my God. This stone that I have set up as a memorial stone shall be God’s abode.”

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 91:1-2, 3-4, 14-15ab

R/ In you, my God, I place my trust.

You who dwell in the shelter of the Most High, who abide in the shadow of the Almighty, Say to the LORD, “My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.”

R/ In you, my God, I place my trust.

For he will rescue you from the snare of the fowler, from the destroying pestilence. With his pinions he will cover you, and under his wings you shall take refuge.

R/ In you, my God, I place my trust.

Because he clings to me, I will deliver him; I will set him on high because he acknowledges my name. He shall call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in distress.

R/ In you, my God, I place my trust.

Gospel Acclamation cf. 2 Timothy 1:10

Alleluia, alleluia. Our Savior Jesus Christ has destroyed death and brought life to light through the Gospel. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel Matthew 9:18-26 My daughter has just died, but come and she will live.

While Jesus was speaking, an official came forward, knelt down before him, and said, “My daughter has just died. But come, lay your hand on her, and she will live.” Jesus rose and followed him, and so did his disciples. A woman suffering hemorrhages for twelve years came up behind him and touched the tassel on his cloak. She said to herself, “If only I can touch his cloak, I shall be cured.” Jesus turned around and saw her, and said, “Courage, daughter! Your faith has saved you.” And from that hour the woman was cured.

When Jesus arrived at the official’s house and saw the flute players and the crowd who were making a commotion, he said, “Go away! The girl is not dead but sleeping.” And they ridiculed him. When the crowd was put out, he came and took her by the hand, and the little girl arose. And news of this spread throughout all that land.

The Gospel of the Lord

R Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[ausetkmt]

A Florida Judge Finds a New Job: Defending an Inmate - The New York Times

At first, Judge Scott Cupp was a resolute, hard-core, you-gotta-be-joking skeptic. During his years as a defense lawyer, he had heard from dozens of inmates who swore they had been wrongly convicted, and he never believed a single one. So in 2002, when he learned about a guy named Leo Schofield, who by then had already served 13 years of a life sentence for murdering his wife, he didn’t need to hear the details.

“I thought if this guy’s innocent, I’m the Queen of Sheba,” he said in a recent interview.

For the record, Judge Cupp looks nothing like any depictions of the Queen of Sheba. At 66, he has gray hair and a fluffy gray beard that gives him the appearance of a trimmed-down Santa Claus, and when agitated he lets fly curse words not found in the Bible. (“I can get a little saucy, so you can edit some of this, right?”)

But today it is not enough to say Judge Cupp merely believes Leo Schofield is innocent; he considers Mr. Schofield’s imprisonment a grotesque mistake. Anyone wondering how Judge Cupp made the journey from total doubter to ardent crusader should seek out “Bone Valley,” a nine-part podcast released last year, which recounts Mr. Schofield’s story in harrowing, infuriating detail. The show is part of the true-crime podcast bonanza, fueled by the very human urge for stories in which sanity and justice ultimately prevail.

Here comes a spoiler: “Bone Valley” is not that kind of story. Mr. Schofield is still in prison. Which so irritates Judge Cupp that freeing him will soon become his full-time and unpaid job. In a move that is certain to confound more than a few colleagues, Judge Cupp will resign his seat on the 20th Judicial Circuit Court in Charlotte County, Fla. — he has been a judge since 2014 — and dedicate all of his working days to springing Mr. Schofield from behind bars.

“I’m leaving money on the table,” he said in a 90-minute video interview, noting that he could have remained in his current role for nine more years. But he doesn’t have any debt, his children are grown and he lives comfortably on 26 acres with plenty of woods and a pond.

“In a way, what I’m about to do is selfish,” he went on, “because it’s for my own psyche. I need to do this. I have to do this.”

Did you know you can share 10 gift articles a month, even with nonsubscribers?

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“Bone Valley” has been a triumph for Lava for Good, a production company that focuses on social justice issues. It has been downloaded 4.5 million times, reaching No. 7 on Apple’s podcast chart and turning up on best-of-the-year lists.

Lava for Good has not released financial figures, so it’s hard to know if “Bone Valley” went beyond winning hearts and minds and turned a profit, a feat that has only gotten harder as the podcast market has grown more crowded. The company’s co-founders, Jason Flom and Jeff Kempler, who initially created Lava Records, signing artists like Lorde and Kid Rock, say they are primarily interested in different kinds of results.

“For us the most important measure of success is in outcomes,” Mr. Kempler wrote in an email, “in specific cases we cover, in laws and policies, in the election of fair and progressive prosecutors.”

“Bone Valley” is reported and narrated by Gilbert King, the author of the book “Devil in the Grove,” the nonfiction account of four Black men falsely accused of raping a white woman in central Florida in 1949, which won a Pulitzer Prize in 2013. Mr. King, who lives in Brooklyn, thought he was done with the Sunshine State until he visited Naples in 2018 to give a speech to the Florida Conference of Circuit Judges.

Judge Cupp attended by mistake, thinking Gilbert Gottfried, the now-deceased stand-up comic, was doing a set to add levity to the program. He quickly abandoned his plan to exit early and had a very different thought: This is the guy.

For more than a decade, he had been searching for a writer to dig into the case that preoccupied him. When Mr. King was done speaking, Judge Cupp approached and handed over his business card. On the back he had jotted down Mr. Schofield’s name and Florida Department of Corrections number.

“Not just wrongfully convicted,” he had added in a scrawl. “He’s an innocent man.”

A few days later, Mr. King called. Judge Cupp explained that during his defense lawyer days, he had overcome his initial doubts about Mr. Schofield and represented him in 2005, based on new evidence. He still failed to persuade prosecutors that they had imprisoned the wrong man. Soon after, he became a prosecutor himself and later joined the bench. But he never forgot this case.

“God help us if we can’t get this right,” he told Mr. King on the phone. Just read the trial transcripts, the judge suggested.

“I saw problems with the state’s case right away,” Mr. King recalled. Under the government’s theory, the murder occurred in the Schofield home, a single-wide trailer. “But multiple crime units did not find a single drop of blood in the place. How is that possible?”

The case dated to 1987, when the body of 18-year-old Michelle Schofield was discovered in a drainage canal in Lakeland, Fla., with 26 stab wounds. Suspicion quickly fell on her husband of just six months, a house painter who also played lead guitar in a bar band.

At the trial, prosecutors tarred Mr. Schofield as a violent hothead — he had struck Ms. Schofield on several occasions, the acts of an overly possessive husband, he said — and a neighbor said she had seen him on the night of the murder, moving a large object from his home that could have been a body. Mr. Schofield was convicted of first-degree murder and sentenced to life in prison.

“Honestly, I think I was numb,” Mr. Schofield says in a face-to-face interview for the podcast conducted in the prison, describing his reaction to the verdict. “I was so numb and beat down and disgusted I don’t think sadness was the reaction for me. For me, I was incredulous that this could even be taking place.”

Notably missing from the government’s case was any physical evidence linking Mr. Schofield to the crime. But fingerprints had been found in his wife’s car. Figuring out whom they belonged to became a fixation for Crissie Carter, a social worker who had met Mr. Schofield in prison when he assisted her in life skill classes she taught to inmates. In 1995, the two married, a turn of events that Ms. Carter, who now goes by Carter-Schofield, could scarcely believe herself.

“I didn’t know how to talk about it for years,” she said in a phone interview. “And the very few people I did share this with didn’t want to talk to me, because they thought there was something wrong with me.”

One of those former friends was a police officer, Synda Maynard, who was then married to Scott Cupp. In 2004, Ms. Carter-Schofield spent months begging, pleading and whining to persuade a very skeptical Officer Maynard to seek a match for the fingerprints recovered in Ms. Schofield’s car.

A few weeks later, Officer Maynard called with startling news. The prints belonged to Jeremy Scott, a deeply troubled, mentally diminished and violent man who, it turned out, had regularly taken a former girlfriend to the very secluded place where Ms. Schofield’s body was found. He was serving a life sentence for robbing and beating a man to death with a grape juice bottle.

When Mr. Cupp learned about the prints, he agreed to become Mr. Schofield’s lawyer, expecting that the prosecution would soon produce a face-saving plea deal and bring the life sentence to a swift end.

“I thought the case had unraveled for the state and Leo’s going to get out,” he said. “Wrong, wrong, wrong.”

Mr. Schofield stayed put, even after Mr. Scott took the stand at an evidentiary hearing in 2017 and confessed under oath.

Mr. Schofield has since earned a bachelor’s degree from New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary and leads a prison ministry attended by 150 inmates every Sunday. He has never had a private moment with his wife of nearly 30 years, let alone a conjugal visit. The daughter the couple adopted in 2000 now has two children of her own. His disciplinary record is as close to spotless as it gets for someone who has spent decades in penitentiaries.

But on three occasions, lawyers for the state attorney’s office have shown up at parole board hearings to argue that Mr. Schofield is a remorseless killer who should die in prison. And someone from that office will apparently attend hearing No. 4, scheduled for sometime in March or April.

“If we thought that Leo Schofield, or any other inmate, was innocent, we would take immediate action to right that injustice,” said Jacob S. Orr, chief assistant state attorney for Florida’s 10th Judicial Circuit. “However, the state cannot ignore the overwhelming amount of evidence that has proven Leo Schofield guilty.”

Mr. Orr attached a two-page document of detailed talking points. “It seems this is an attempt to promote a podcast,” reads one sentence.

That’s a line that Judge Cupp has heard before.

“I hope to God somebody says that in my presence,” he said during the interview, talking about the upcoming parole hearing. “Yeah, we’re just rolling in dough here.”

He and Mr. Schofield have become friends, bonded by the latter’s struggle and their shared Christian faith. In a bonus episode released last week, Judge Cupp visits Mr. Schofield at Hardee Correctional Institution to ask permission to represent him again. In a subsequent interview with Mr. King, Mr. Schofield says he’s happy to have his superhero back.

It might take superheroics to free Mr. Schofield. Or maybe the state will be daunted by the media spectacle the next parole hearing is sure to be and skip the proceeding. Prosecutors are under no obligation to attend.

Either way, Judge Cupp is ready. Asked why he had left behind a comfortable career and a steady paycheck, and why he would succeed where previous lawyers had failed, he paused for a moment, as though contemplating a barbell he was eager to bench press.

“I am done sitting idly by and letting the state assault this man,” he said. “And that’s what they’ve done. They’ve lied about him. They’ve assaulted his character. And I’m not taking it any more, on his behalf.”

[thesirencult]

"...Even at this day and age, we still describe a beautiful woman as bewitching. Similarly, we may call a handsome man charming. A charmer, seducing a nimble snake with his melodies. One soon loses count of how many songs have been written about such lustful be-witchings, magic love potions and the lure of the near East. So this then is Circe. A stormy woman and wild like the sea. She stands opposite the sailors and talks to them, and the bodies of these beggars of love are tense and electrified. They feel as if they are being stung by a thousand yellow scorpion tails. Yet Circe is also lonely. A queen of her deserted island like the queen of Sheba in wise Solomon’s travels. All but forgotten in an exotic oasis. So much beauty and the strong intimate call of warm blood surround her. Lush gardens, palm and pineapple trees, lotus flowers for the lotus eaters, cool shades and clusters of leaves blinded by the incident light, unseen birds chirping away, hidden in the foliage. And the clean sandy beaches unfurling toward the sea. Right in the middle of the island, stands her fine palace; at the edge, the blue satin of the ocean. And somewhere close-by are the seashore caverns, and the wavy murals of the sea. Places of inspiration and poetry.

In the sea caves there’s a thirst there’s a love there’s an ecstasy

And Circe the dark is aflame like a burning sunspot. At some point Homer refers to her as “sun-born”. She is refreshing and youthful. And above all else, she thirsts for a man. Like a fireplace burns cedar wood and dried weeds; like a torch ignites and flame flickers to life in lanterns; like a chandelier burns bright;

and in each of its flames a sensual fever, a lascivious urge, grows with the heat..."

Concerning Circe, by the late Dimitris Liantinis, Professor of Philosophy, translation by Yannis Tsapras

"Circe" by Wright Barker

[focr]

In the early part of David's life he obtained signal instances of God's preserving mercy. A lion and a bear came to destroy a lamb of his fold; David had the courage to attack both these fierce animals in defence of the young of his flock, and the Lord delivered him. A great deliverance was granted to himself, and through him to his people, when the Lord delivered into his hand the terrible giant of Gath. Many and wonderful were the deliverances which he obtained from Saul. David sometimes thought it necessary for himself to leave the Lord's land and to seek refuge among strangers, who were not such heathens as many of his own people. Among them, too, he found protection and obtained great deliverances. The king of Moab behaved to him with kindness, so far as we know. Among the Philistines he was more than once in extreme danger. But the Lord was still his stay and his helper. When the Philistines were brought low by many terrible engagements, David was still exposed to great perils, but the Lord preserved him whithersoever he went. Neither Moabites, nor Ammonites, nor Syrians of different kingdoms could stand before him, either singly or in conjunction, for the Lord taught his hands to war and his fingers to fight. But when the Lord had given him rest from his enemies round about, evil rose up against him out of his own kingdom and out of his own house. Sheba rose up after Absalom to seek his life, but he soon lost his own, as his predecessor in wickedness had done. These were some of David's deliverances from his many visible enemies; and they were attended and sweetened by other deliverances, not less, but still more important. He was sometimes almost overwhelmed by fear and dejection of spirit. He was often in great bodily distress; but he cried unto the Lord and was healed (Psalm 30). ~ G. Lawson

[thepitofjob]

Job 6: 14-23. "The Ransom."

We just covered why a Jewish man is actually an amalgam of many different types of men. The explanation of his qualities continues. The theme that pervades common ideas about this has to do with what is called ceremonial purity, which means a Jewish man is practiced at good instead of bad habits.

A tema is ceremonially unclean, in bondage to sin, except he looks for ways to improve his condition:

"The root ימן (ymn) is of unclear pedigree and meaning but it has to do with both the right hand side and the southern direction, which are both decidedly positive (whereas left and north have negative connotations). This also indicates that one normally faces east, which corresponds to the past.

Noun ימין (yamin) means right, i.e. right hand, side or the right of other parts of the body. Adjective ימיני (yemini) meaning on the right. Verb ימן (yaman) means to go or choose the right or use the right hand. Adjective ימני (yemani) meaning right hand or right. Noun תימן (teman) meaning south."

The following nine verses are a mini dose of Shavuot, "the weeks" which explain how leaving Egypt and our bad habits behind is a desirable and expected behavior of one who enters the Shule.

Shule like all the rest is transmitted by one Jewish generation to the next like a camel caravan so mankind's understanding of his ethical obligations to God do not die out. Without them we shall all as the verse says "fall into the clutches of the ruthless."

The Shule therefore and the concept of Shavuot, competency in the Nine Weeks of the Torah, are mankind's most prized guarded treasure:

14 “Anyone who withholds kindness from a friend     forsakes the fear of the Almighty. 15 But my brothers are as undependable as intermittent streams,     as the streams that overflow 16 when darkened by thawing ice     and swollen with melting snow, 17 but that stop flowing in the dry season,     and in the heat vanish from their channels. 18 Caravans turn aside from their routes;     they go off into the wasteland and perish. 19 The caravans of Tema look for water,     the traveling merchants of Sheba look in hope. 20 They are distressed, because they had been confident;     they arrive there, only to be disappointed. 21 Now you too have proved to be of no help;     you see something dreadful and are afraid. 22 Have I ever said, ‘Give something on my behalf,     pay a ransom for me from your wealth, 23 deliver me from the hand of the enemy,     rescue me from the clutches of the ruthless’?

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 14-15: My brothers are dependable. The Number is 9998, ץטח, "output, foreign currency."

Brothers are siblings that exist in joint ownership of the parent's estate, but one owns the actual title to the land. This is always passed down to the youngest according to the Torah. If the eldest does everything, then the youngest never learns and then he will possess no knowledge to pass along to his offspring. So everyone goes to the Shule and everyone passes the title along to the youngest. As marriages happen, foreign marriages as the law dictates, the Jewish circle widens.

v. 16-17: The heat vanishes from the channels. Channels or riverbeds are minds that are dried up of ignorance and delusion and are prepared to funnel the knowledge in the Torah into the rest of one's life. There are many rivers, streams and fountains in the Torah, for the sake of this portion of the Book of Job, we will look at the Four Rivers in Eden:

From Bereshit:

8 Now the Lord God had planted a garden in the east, in Eden; and there he put the man he had formed. 9 The Lord God made all kinds of trees grow out of the ground—trees that were pleasing to the eye and good for food. In the middle of the garden were the tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

10 A river watering the garden flowed from Eden; from there it was separated into four headwaters. 11 The name of the first is the Pishon; “to break” it winds through the entire land of Havilah “to whirl”, where there is gold “understanding.” 12 (The gold of that land is good; aromatic resin[e] “right speech” and onyx “high spoken”, “intuition” are also there.) 13 The name of the second river is the Gihon “gusher”;  it winds through the entire land of Cush “prophets”.[f]14 The name of the third river is the Tigris, aka hiddekel, to be swift and articulate ; it runs along the east side of Ashur “level” . And the fourth river is the Euphrates “good, noble” .

The Number is 10573, יהזג‎ ‎, yehzag, "To channel the energy to bring to fruition, to bring to God's hand, to serve a higher purpose.

v. 18-19: The caravans look for water at Tema and merchants at Sheba. "they seek freedom from slavery to wickedness through an education and commitment to a moral lifestyle."

The Number is 9209, טבאֶפֶס‎ט, ‎tabefest, "simplify one's nature."

v. 20-21:  They are distressed, because they had been confident; they arrive there, only to be disappointed. Persons who disappear into the Shule during their early life often fear they will be lost within it. The goal is to find ways to live life free of error later as a fully formed secular being. This idea is transmitted through Halachah, "the forces, the strengths of the religion" rather than stated openly in the Torah.

The Number is 10392, יגט‎ב, igatb, "the sculptor, the carver."

All of this is summed up in the Hebrew Number 100. We are allowed to decide how we want our lives to go in tandem with how God has instructed in the Shule and along the lines society has drawn as far as education, citizenship, secular laws, and the need for licenses and regualtion, etc.

The Number coincides to the idea man brings 50 shekels to the table, God brings the other 50, they are unified through direct contact between the Jewish ideas of the self and the honed intution and experiences of an adult Jewish person.

If one is disappointed in the result, one need only start the process again.

v. 22-23: Give something on my behalf, pay a ransom for me.

Ransoms are known as "atonement money" in the Torah. A shekel means "to be nice", a gerah is "to be a proselyte and chew the cud", ie. demonstrate to the Rabbi you understand what he is teaching. The Torah says one must offer twenty gerahs or twenty years worth of understanding to the Rabbi during the years one is in the shule.

This means 1736, אז‎גו‎, ezgo,"fierce nation" meaning the entire body needs to mature along with the mind and the final output results in a competent adult. Competence is the price we pay to the shule for becomingJewish.

From Ki Tessa:

11 Then the Lord said to Moses, 12 “When you take a census of the Israelites to count them, each one must pay the Lord a ransom for his life at the time he is counted. Then no plague will come on them when you number them. 13 Each one who crosses over to those already counted is to give a half shekel,[a] according to the sanctuary shekel, which weighs twenty gerahs. This half shekel is an offering to the Lord. 14 All who cross over, those twenty years old or more, are to give an offering to the Lord. 15 The rich are not to give more than a half shekel and the poor are not to give less when you make the offering to the Lord to atone for your lives. 16 Receive the atonement money from the Israelites and use it for the service of the tent of meeting. It will be a memorial for the Israelites before the Lord, making atonement for your lives.”

= Rescue me from the ruthless...the Number is 9820, טחבאֶפֶס‎ tahbafes, "You will be caught, stripped of mildew."

Rather than the performance of a rescue, one is stretched, like Moses stretching out his hand, and this implies either wet or dry land, conditions in which a mildew, which needs humidity which lingers and causes rot.

Religion especially a long lived and virtually unchanged one like Judaism can commends its students to the rot if the individual does not follow the Seven Days, exit the Shule and be his own man as soon as the logic of Days Five and Six especially begin to settle him down.

Recall Moses was trying to set the people free and they couldn't handle it. He ransomed them from Pharaoh, it was big fight, took them across the water, across the desert, all to rescue them from ruthless people and they turned inward and were cruel and heartless to themselves and to each other because they did not properly understand the Logic. They did not even try. No one since has.

So as the Rab says, one must ransom and rescue oneself and then, within the company of as many as are willing we must rescue the nation form this aimless, insulting, and difficult direction we have chosen.

Ruthless people are gossips, slanderers, and hypocrites. They are easy to avoid as are their behaviors. Egypt in Hebrew means "temple of profanity". Almost all of the problems that existed there and lasted afterwards were because of lies, misinformation, and superciliousness. Be ye not associated with these things and the Ransom will be paid long before one's twenty years have expired.

If you keep doing it, if you keep running your mouth, if you remain the same, you will mildew and no one will want or be able to love you. Love is the greatest ransom there is and so many try to live without it.

[watermelon-rising]

From Fundraiser:

In the first week of Abdullah's life, our world was shaken when he was diagnosed with Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome (HLHS). His tiny heart faced an immense challenge – only one chamber developed correctly, leaving the left side underdeveloped. We were presented with two daunting choices: embark on a complex medical journey, fraught with uncertainty, or face the unimaginable loss of our precious son. Choosing to fight alongside him was our only option.

Abdullah has since undergone three open-heart surgeries and numerous cardiac catheterizations at Sheba Medical Center in Israel, a beacon of hope amidst our darkest hours. Each surgery was a harrowing battle, marked by moments of uncertainty and fear. From his first surgery at a tender 12 days old to the latest, Abdullah's resilience has been awe-inspiring. However, his journey is far from over.

Now, at 8 years old, Abdullah requires urgent surgery to close a Fenestration Fontan. Every day, we hold onto hope as we navigate the complexities of his condition. Yet, our path is fraught with obstacles beyond medical challenges.

[thenewdeadseascrolls]

Judges 5: 28-31. "The Varicolored Ascot: Conclusion to the Song of Deborah."

The Song of Deborah, "The Song of the Beehive" concludes with a question and a final prayer, "Why isn't anyone paying attention?" and "May the Glory of God be as the sun in the lives of all of His People."

There are specific aspects to both starting with what is called the Window of Sisera's Mother, which exists behind a lattice. Recall that Deborah means to peer through a hole in a lattice at the real world. This lattice is the Eye of Ha Shem, it is both of our eyes which verily do see the world such as it is no matter what we say or do. Unlike an animal or a flower, we can comprehend what we see and mold reality according to our vision. If the vision follows the line of sight named Deborah by the Torah, life on earth will finally begin to evolve.

Clatter, mentioned below is all the work entailed to achieve the Vision of the Song of Deborah. Clatter refers to something called Tikkum Olam Ha Ba, "Your time is coming". Since I started this scientific analysis of the Torah and the Mishnah I have come to believe the Age of Agony, all these thousands of years of primitive upheaval on this world is drawing to a close. None us alive today will live to see very much of the new age, called Mashiach, but we will live long enough to see as the final passages of Judges 5 say, "an end to all of God's ememies and the onset of a freely governed sovereign Jewish State". Especially the one for which the Shoftim was written, the development of an individual and distinctly Jewish Self.

Through the scripture God says "run do not walk to this destiny I have determined is right for you":

28 “Through the window peered Sisera’s mother;     behind the lattice she cried out, ‘Why is his chariot so long in coming?     Why is the clatter of his chariots delayed?’ 29 The wisest of her ladies answer her;     indeed, she keeps saying to herself, 30 ‘Are they not finding and dividing the spoils:     a woman or two for each man, colorful garments as plunder for Sisera,     colorful garments embroidered, highly embroidered garments for my neck—     all this as plunder?’

31 “So may all your enemies perish, Lord!     But may all who love you be like the sun     when it rises in its strength.”

Then the land had peace forty years.

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 28: Through the window peered Sisera’s mother; behind the lattice she cried out. Normally Jews delay going back to work and work hard in advance to be able to do so. To watch the world burn and delay the release of the horses, all the characteristics we work so hard within to tame is anathema to how a Jew thinks. The anguish of living an unfulfilled life in a self-destructive world is what causes one to cry out. The most famous cries are found in the Psalms, but they only go so far to quel the unresolved emotions all of us experience.

The Value in Gematria is 9221, טבב‎א, "of course."

v. 29:  The wisest of her ladies answer her; indeed, she keeps saying to herself... Who is the wisest of Ladies? Serah "to go to excess, to have a surplus."

The wise woman from Abel-Beth-Maacah "you have to hit" is identified in midrashim as Serah, daughter of Asher. The rabbis attribute great wisdom to her. She successfully instituted a negotiation with Joab, who had besieged the town of Abel-Beth-Maacah. She then spoke to the people of the town, who beheaded Sheba son of Bichri in order to induce Joab to leave.

Rabbis draw parallels between her story and the story of Abraham negotiating with God for the people of Sodom. The wise woman from Abel-Beth-Maacah is greatly admired by many, including Solomon, who lauded her when he said: “Wisdom is more valuable than weapons of war”; this woman’s wisdom was superior to all of Joab’s weapons (Eccl. Rabbah loc. cit.).

No one plans to live in a way that is unfulfilling but this does happen. The reason we read the Torah and why the Rabbis all say to work up to and past one's potential is because life is short. There is just enough life in all of us but it is not an endless amount. This is why it is puzzling more Jews are not hedonists because that is what God wants us to try to be.

As the Rab says above, this includes our appetite for social justice and the happiness of others, seen in the very first archtype for Jewish identity called Abraham, the Father of Compassion.

v. 30: Are they not finding and dividing the spoils? The spoils apparently include a very gay ascot.

To bind the neck in a colorful flaming scarf means to control the speech and avoid all infractions associated with the Plagues of Egypt, but moreso it means to one must be an intelligent and flamboyant speaker.

The Value in Gematria is 9041, טאֶפֶסדא‎ ‎, tapesda, "To understand and spread the roots of the richly ornament precepts of the Torah."

v. 31: There was peace in the land for forty years. Forty years is the length of one's adult lifetime. Anyone who surpasses forty years is very lucky in terms of Torah time. To spend forty years in peace is a great blessing. So far the human race has not granted the right to this to anyone who has ever lived here.

The Value in Gematria is 9227, טבבז‎, tabvez, "the cell is built by strength within a safe place of refuge."

No one wants to see what they are going to become if they face adversity and triumph. We want the opposite. This is the mission of the human race, and of the Jewish Establishment, to provide everyone a chance to find themselves, to undertake the challenges to which they volunteer themselves in order to do so without fear of harm from others.

The scariest thing about living on earth is the presence of other people. If we could do something about this, we would have it made.

Here ends the Song of Deborah. The prophecy concerning the Establisment of a Nation fit for the purposes of the attainment of the Jewish Self.