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[toolssuppliersinuaedubaiuae]

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[gojorgeous]

“heatwaves”

pairing: alpha!gojo x omega!fem!reader summary: when a work trip takes you to japan, the last thing you expect is a heatwave... and some guy with blue eyes? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, a/b/o dynamics, no established relationship, dubcon (i feel like it’s always kinda dubcon with a/b/o), p->v, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, biting, blood, marking, spit, praise, swearing, pet names (baby/sweetheart/princess), brief mention/implication of pregnancy, knotting, reader gets picked up, reader is american, reader is unaware of their omega status, reader experiences their first heat, reader and satoru “bond” without having a fully conscious conversation, reader and satoru are early twenties. a/n: it's here! somebody spay me. by popular demand i have written alpha!gojo for you all… just a classic reader goes into an accidental heat at work and (x) character happens to be the nearest alpha LMAO. this is entirely uncreative, but i love it for that!!! straight smut with a little plot if you squint hard enough! i hope it lives up to your expectations. find my alpha!geto fic here and find the list of my 1k event fics here. enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. wc: 5k

Nobody ever told you that Japan was so damn hot. 

Hot was not what came to mind when you’d heard you’d be taking a trip to Tokyo. Temples? Sure. Mt. Fuji? Great. Hot? No fucking way. 

But, here you were, boiling away under the sun on what you’d thought would be a fun little work trip. Instead, you were just suffering with every step, trying to listen to what Principal Yaga was saying and failing miserably. 

“These are the sparring courts. No students right now, but they’ll start training within the hour.” 

You rub at the back of your neck, cringing when your palm comes away coated with a thin layer of sweat. Gross. 

You lift your eyes to the sky, wondering how much longer this was going to take. Your little trip to Japan was to organize an exchange program with Jujutsu Tech. Your students had been begging to take a trip to Tokyo, to where their cursed energy would be closer to the source and, consequently, stronger. You had to admit, it was a good idea. A few months spent training here in Japan would do them good. From the moment you’d set foot on Japanese soil, your power had thrummed faster in your veins than ever before. 

Principal Yaga was giving you a tour of the grounds and had sealed your horrible fate when he’d decided to start outside. You barely heard a word the man said. New York was never this hot…

“Are you alright?” You blink, fanning your face as best you can. It provides no relief. God, it felt like the heat was penetrating your fucking bones… 

When your eyes slide to Principal Yaga, you’re surprised to see that he looks genuinely concerned. “Y-yeah.” You blink again, shocked by your own stutter. Maybe you were coming down with something? “I’m fine, just not used to this kind of heat, I guess.” You fan your face again and clench your jaw when it still does nothing. 

Yaga’s brows furrow and you see him glance around, like he’ll find said heat standing next to him. How was he wearing so many layers? 

“How about we head inside and take a break, then? We can continue the tour… later.” You nearly fall to the ground and kiss his feet. Air conditioning is truly God's gift to man… 

You smile and it’s all genuine. “That would be amazing. Thank you.” 

Yaga nods, but you think his eyes linger on you for just a beat too long before he turns. He still looks confused… or maybe flustered? That only leaves you confused. 

You follow after him, each step feeling like you’re sinking deep into cement. You tug at the collar of your shirt, trying to get some ventilation. When you finally reach the building you nearly sigh with relief. Air conditioning… that’ll be good. Just what you need. A few minutes inside and you’ll be good to go. You’ll just have to remember not to wear so many damn layers again when you continue the tour. 

You’re smiling as you step inside, so ready for relief that you’re practically shaking– but relief never comes. Your brows furrow. You brush your arm through the air. It… doesn’t help. It’s strange– you can feel the coolness of the air conditioning, feel it gliding up and across your skin, but the heat doesn’t subside, doesn’t so much as lessen. 

“I trust you know how to find anything you might–” Yaga clears his throat. “Need?” 

 Your brows furrow. He’d shown you all the school’s resources last night and your room was already stocked with food, toiletries, and every other thing you could possibly need. Of course you knew where everything was… 

“Yes… Thank you.” 

Yaga shifts so uncomfortably you think that maybe he’s about to pee his pants. “Right, well, you have my contact information. Let me know if I can be of assistance in connecting you to any… resources.”

You’re more confused now than you were at the start of this conversation. “Right…” 

“Take care.” 

Yaga shoots you one last– worried?- glance and stalks down the hall. You’re left wondering what the hell is happening in his mind and why he seemed so desperate to offer you resources? 

You blink, clearing your mind as best you can, but some sort of fog seems to be settling over your consciousness. Definitely coming down with something, you think. 

You make your way through the halls, steps still feeling suspiciously heavy and heat still radiating off your body. A cold shower. That’ll help. Or so you thought. The further you walk, the more each hallway starts to look like the next. Was it left or right next? Was this hallway always a dead end? Since when was there a bathroom there?

You’re leaning against the wall now, panting. Something is pooling in your gut, something warm and far too intense. Your inner thighs are wet, too. You want to convince yourself it’s sweat, but… you’re horny. More horny than you’ve ever been in your whole damn life. You think you might die if you don’t get some dick in the next ten minutes. What the fuck?

You slide yourself into the next room you see: an empty classroom. Thank fucking god. You grab the back of a chair, hands shaking with how hard you’re gripping the wood. You take a deep breath. You need to get a hold of yourself, need to figure out what the fuck is happening to you.  

You swallow and try your best to think. It’s not without difficulty. Your head feels like somebody’s filled it with glue. It takes a minute for a coherent thought to come through, but when it does, you think it’s a good one. Doctor. 

Yes– you don’t feel well, so obviously a doctor is the correct choice, right? You scramble for your phone in your back pocket but freeze when the brush of your own hand against your ass sends a jolt up your spine. What the fuck is wrong with you? 

Carefully, you extract your phone from your pocket, but it’s too difficult to even remember your fucking passcode. You press your thighs together, trying to relieve some of the overwhelming ache that’s forming between your legs. Something is definitely wrong.

You fumble with your phone, but your hands are shaking so hard it just tumbles to the floor. 

“Fuck,” you breathe. “Fuck, fuck, fuck?” 

“Yo, who’s baking cookies in here without me?” 

Your head snaps up and, with some difficulty, your eyes settle on a… man. You suck in a breath. He’s… dazzling. He’s wearing all black, but it’s not a student uniform. One of the teachers that you’ve yet to meet, then. White hair and pale skin contrasts against his clothes, but his eyes are covered by a pair of sunglasses set low on his nose. Even in your delirious state you still have the wherewithal to wonder who the fuck wears sunglasses inside. 

You get a quick look at him before a wave of intense- fuck, desire?- washes over you. You tremble again and shock yourself when a whimper tumbles from your lips. 

“Oh, shit,” you hear him say. You glance at him from the corner of your eye and watch him inhale again– deeply. His lips part. “Oh, shit.”

You clench your jaw and tighten your grip on your chair. Your legs are shaking now– you can barely stand. You squeak pitifully. 

The second the sound leaves your throat you hear footsteps– rapid, hurried, concerned, ones. Warm hands clasp your waist and you cry out at the touch, electricity sparking on your skin. 

“Shhh, it’s okay.” He turns you gently to face him, hands steadying your swaying body. “Who the fuck left you alone in here?” His hand is rubbing soothing circles on your lower back now and you think you’ve never felt something so good in your life. It’s so good that you almost miss what he said. Almost. 

“W-What?” You see his brows furrow as you peek up at him. At this angle you can see under his sunglasses. His eyes are blue. Really fucking blue. You think he might be the most attractive man you’ve ever seen, even with the expression of… anger?- that he’s currently wearing. 

“Whoever he is, I'll kill him.” 

That makes you blink. An extra sliver of clarity opens in your brain. “What are you talking about?”

He tugs you a little closer, wrapping an arm fully around your waist and pressing you up against him. You try to ignore the fact that you love it, that you want nothing more than to wrap yourself around him and climb him like a fucking tree. 

“What idiot leaves an omega going into heat?” He’s glaring at the doorway like he’s torn between staying here with you and running after said idiot to pommel him into the ground. 

“‘M not an omega.” The words are out before you’ve even stopped to consider them. It’s true. You’re not an omega. You’re a beta. You’ve always been a beta. You’ve got the little “B” on your ID card to prove it. You were tested at birth, just like everyone else, and even if you really were an omega you would have presented years ago.

He only glances down at you and snorts. “Funny, sweetheart.” His hand is still rubbing those little circles into your back and it’s enough to make that fogginess in your mind grow a little thicker. 

But your fear, your uncertainty outways your instinct. You pound a weak fist against his chest, not to push him away, but to get his attention. He’s still glaring at the doorway like he wants to murder it. 

“‘M serious,” you gasp. “I’m a beta… I don’... know whas’ happenin’… to me.” Each word is a tremendous effort to form. Your tongue seems to have lost its ability to do anything but hang limply. 

That gets his attention. He lifts a hand, gently brushing your hair back from your eyes and then cupping your jaw. “Is this your first heat?” 

You find yourself leaning into his touch despite the fact that you’ve only known him for thirty seconds. Your eyelids flutter. “N-Not a heat… jus��� feel… sick.”

His brows furrow again, deeper this time, and he shakes his head. “How old are you?”

You know why he asks. Most omegas present around eighteen or nineteen. “Older than… nineteen…” You try to laugh, but it only comes out as a whimper.

That answer only serves to make him push closer. You feel his hand trailing down your neck, skimming gently over the skin until he reaches a spot you hadn't even realized was so… sore. You keen at the touch. Fuck, no. There was no way. You had swollen fucking scent glands. 

You try to push away, but he pulls you in, burying his face in your neck. You shudder when he groans. “You smell like a damn bakery exploded,” he chuckles, and the sound is muffled by your skin. When he pulls away he makes it look like the action is physically painful. He cups your face again. “Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you’re an omega. If this is your first heat then…” he swallows and your eyes track the bob of his throat. “You’re just a late bloomer, baby.”

You shake your head desperately. It’s just the stupid heatwave. It’s just… hot outside… right? 

You try to think about how this could be possible. It could be that the test you took as a baby was wrong… it happened sometimes. It was rare, but it happened. But if you were an omega, what would have triggered your presentation now? What had changed? 

Your eyes widen. Japan. You’d set foot in fucking Japan. Ever since you’d gotten here, you’d felt power pulsing in your veins. Maybe it hadn’t been just power… 

“N-no–” 

A gentle thumb smooths over your cheek and you meet his eyes again. You shiver when you see a whole lot more black than blue. “You have no alpha?” 

You whimper, leaning into him. Touch me, touch me, touch me, a part of you begs. You shake your head again and a tear slides down your cheek. “No,” you whisper. 

Strong arms slide beneath your knees and you squeak when you’re suddenly suspended in the air. When you glance up he’s grinning triumphantly. “You have one now,” is all he says before he’s carrying you out of the classroom and twisting through the halls. 

Warmth rushes over you at the sensation of being held, and something begs you to give into it, to give into the heat still washing over you, to the throbbing between your legs. You fight it and fight it hard. 

“Where’re we going?” you ask, but your voice is sounding more and more like a whisper. 

His eyes stay focused ahead, even as he presses a comforting kiss to the crown of your head. “Your room, sweetheart.” 

Your brows scrunch. “How d’ you know where–” 

“‘M following your scent, baby.” 

He can do that? You bury your face in his neck, embarrassed, only to be hit by a different scent so delicious your mouth starts watering. You groan. Loudly. There’s a scent pouring from his neck that’s filling your head with memories of spices you can’t name, but suddenly know you love. 

You think you hear him chuckle and then feel a gentle hand on the back of your neck, encouraging you. You snuggle deeper into him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and burying your fingers in his hair. Taste him, taste him, taste him your mind chants. It’s too good an offer to deny. You lick a stripe across his skin. 

Your groans are instant. He’s squeezing you closer, leaning into your touch, and you’re pulling him closer. Your fingers curl into his jacket, tugging and tugging. You lick again and now he’s the one groaning. 

“Damn, that feels good,” He sounds as surprised by that fact as you feel. The swaying of his steps comes to a sudden halt. You whine, missing the rocking of his body. “Think we’re here, princess. This it?” His hand is smoothing over your hair, slowly coaxing you away from the curve of his neck. You blink, not wanting to leave the paradise of his scent, but also feeling some overwhelming urge to please him.

Your eyes settle on a door and you recognize a little chip in the wood. You nod. “Mhm.” 

You gasp when his hand grips your hip, wriggling through your pocket until he pulls out a little brass key. 

“Perfect,” he says, and his voice sounds like he’s all too pleased with himself. He shimmies your key in the knob until the lock clicks and then you’re inside. The door slams shut loud enough to make you jump and squeak. 

“Oops, sorry, baby. Guess I’m a little excited, heh.” His hand squeezes your hip soothingly and you mewl at the wave of heat that pulses through you. Your clit throbs almost painfully and you feel something gush onto your thighs. You whimper. 

He inhales. “Oh, shit,” he breathes, and then you’re moving again. He navigates your room like he knows it. He probably does. From what you can tell, most of the rooms at Jujutsu Tech follow a standard layout. He weaves down a hall to the left and then into your bedroom on the right. 

He lays you on the bed gently, tenderly, like he’s afraid you might break if he drops you so much as an inch. “There we go,” he breathes. You can’t deny that it feels good, that it feels right, to be lying on the softness of your mattress, but it’s not enough. 

You claw at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and pulling him close. You want something from him, need something, but you can’t name what. You just know that the heat boiling beneath your skin can only be sated by him, that the throbbing between your legs can only be calmed by him. “P-Please,” you whimper. Tears well in your eyes. You need him so bad it physically hurts. 

The smile he gives you is soft and genuine and it takes your breath away. He dips his head and you think you see him slide those sunglasses down his nose and toss them to the side. You don’t pay too close attention, though, because he’s kissing your neck again and your body is screaming with sensation. 

“Aw, I know, baby. Don’ worry. ‘M gonna take care of you now. Jus’ relax.” 

His words spark something in you– your last bit of consciousness. A brief moment of clarity shines through the fog of your mind and you remember what the hell is happening, what the hell you’re doing. You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head desperately. No, no, no, this is not happening to you. There’s no way.

“Hey, now. None a’ that.” Fingers clasp your chin, holding you still. When you peek your eyes open, you see that he has in fact removed his sunglasses and that his eyes are more black pupil than dazzling blue. His jaw is clenched and his breathing is heavy. “Don’t try t’ fight it. Jus’ try to enjoy it…” His head dips and suddenly he’s nipping at your scent gland again. 

You thrash and scream, but not in fear or pain. You’ve never felt something so good in your life. Every graze of his teeth feels like heaven. Your skin zings with electricity, sending pulses of pure need straight between your thighs. 

You grab at him, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging him closer. Your chest is heaving when you speak. “Please, p-please-” 

“Shhh…” You think you hear your shirt tearing, but you’re too focused on pulling him closer to care. His tongue licks a stripe up your throat and your eyes roll back. 

You’re sure your shirt is off now. You can feel the cool air, but it does nothing to ease the heat raging inside you, pulsing and pumping through your veins.You feel him tugging at your pants, too, and you try to raise your hips. He only shushes you again. “Jus’ relax. Let me do the work, baby.” 

Your pants are gone in seconds, even without your assistance. So is your bra and then your panties. He tries pulling away to undress himself, but you mewl and his eyes blow even blacker before he’s back over you again. He settles for popping the buttons straight off his shirt and shimmying out of his pants. 

The sight of his bare skin makes you whimper and then you’re clawing at him again, dragging your fingers across his shoulders, over his chest, down his abs. It’s a greedy touch and one that he returns. His palms move along your body, kneading and squeezing at any flesh he can grab. It feels so good that you think you might pass out– but it’s still not enough. Something is still missing. You feel… empty. 

His fingers trace across your stomach and it’s too late to realize what’s happening before he’s circling your clit. You jerk and jolt at the touch, but he presses his chest to yours, pinning you. The throbbing only worsens when his fingers settle into a rhythm. 

Tears leak down your cheeks. It’s too overwhelming. You’re burning– burning from the inside out. The pulsing between your thighs is all-consuming with its intensity, with its-

“Need! N-Need–” you’re crying out, but you don’t even know what to ask for– don’t even know what you need. 

“God, Fuck, I know, princess,” he groans. He licks a long stripe up your neck. “But ‘s your first heat. Gotta–” he has to pause to swallow. He’s panting, now, just as lost as you are, and you get the sense that he’s restraining himself. “Gotta get you ready… go slow.” 

You shake your head. Now, now, now is all you can think. You need him now. “No… please…” You bury your head in his neck and find that spot that’s pouring his spicy scent into the air. Your mouth waters and you lick him, letting your teeth graze his skin.

“Fuck!” He shivers atop you and you feel the pure strength restrained within his muscles. “Fuck- okay. Okay. Relax f’ me, princess.” 

You try, you really do, but your body refuses to do anything but try to pull him closer. You feel his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, pressing them up, up, up until they’re pressed tightly to your chest and your feet are dangling on his shoulders. The position makes you whine, feeling more exposed than you ever have before. 

“You on birth control, baby?” 

Your brows furrow. It’s becoming harder and harder to focus on what he’s saying rather than simply the sound of his voice. Were you? You try to think, try to remember through the pit of glue that is your brain. No…

You shake your head. “N-No…” 

There’s a slight pause, a beat of contemplation, and then he’s laughing. “Guess I’m bouta be a daddy then, heh.” He chuckles again and the sound rings through you with a wave of pure bliss. His lips brush your neck again, settling on your pulse and making you whine. “Don’t really mind as long as I get you.” Your head rolls back submissively, exposing your throat. Yes, yes, yes, your mind screams. There’s nothing you want more than that, you think.“Okay, here we go, baby.” 

There’s hardly any more warning. One second you feel him shifting between your thighs and the next he’s pressing inside of you, feeding his cock in inch by inch. The stretch is… delicious. It burns, fuels that fire inside you, but it makes the heat feel more… pleasurable. Your back arches and your head rolls back submissively. 

“Oh, fuck, princess.” His voice has gotten higher, more like a whine than anything else. When you gaze up at him you can see the flush in his cheeks, even through the fog in your mind. More, more, more your mind screams. Or maybe you say it aloud, because more is exactly what he gives you. The second you feel him tucked up against your cervix the second he begins to take you. He sets a pace that is somehow both brutal and gentle, with strokes that rattle your skull and also give you exactly what you need. His hands grip your hips, holding you still to take exactly what he wants to give. His head dips until he has his lips wrapped around your nipple, and his tongue is swirling so deliciously that you can’t help but drag your nails down his back. 

Your body rocks with every thrust, teeth rattling and eyes rolling. The heat inside you grows… tighter, like it’s all pooling to your core, waiting for something you still can’t quite name. 

“N-need…” You don’t know what you need, still. Only that you want to beg for it so badly it hurts. 

His tongue slides away from your nipple, tracing a line up between the valley of your breasts, over your collarbone, before he finally settles on your pulse once again. The nick of his teeth makes something click in your mind. This is what you need. Bite me, bite me, bite. Claim me, claim me, claim me. 

“Yes,” you breathe. Your fingers dig into his scalp, pulling him closer, coaxing his teeth to sink in, to stake their claim. “Oh God, yes. Please.” You sound delirious, you think, but then so does he when he answers. 

“Not yet, princess. Not yet.” His tongue darts out to lick across your neck again and you can only sob. Why not yet? Now, now, now… 

Tightness coils in your muscles, the throb at your core reaching a breaking point. You feel something coming, something like an orgasm but yet also not. You know that when whatever is pooling inside you releases, you will shatter, and you’re not sure you’ll ever be put back together. 

Your nails claw across his back hard enough to draw blood and the action forces out some sort of low grumble from his chest that makes you whimper and melt into the mattress. The tip of his nose draws a line up your throat. “Keep doin’ that, baby. Mark me up.” 

You don’t dare deny him. You scratch at his skin, desperately trying to pull him closer. His thrusts grow faster and your thighs begin to tremble and shake on his shoulders, overwhelmed with the intensity of all you’re feeling. You pull at him, grab at him, thread your fingers through his hair. 

Your body jolts with each thrust and you’re sure you’re going to burst any moment. But you can’t. Not yet. You still need something, something he hasn’t given you yet. He groans and the sound is so delicious that you feel it sliding over your skin and settling in your bones. 

“M’ gonna knot you now, princess,” he breathes. “Gonna make you feel so good. Gonna take care ‘ve you.”

You whimper at his words. You hope they’re true. You don’t think you can take much more of the incessant gnawing of need in your gut. 

“Please…” your voice is hardly more than a whisper. His breath is hot as it shakes against your neck. He’s licking and nipping at you ravenously, like he needs you just as badly, like he wants to claim you as badly as you want to be claimed. 

His thrusts quicken even further and your jaw falls open, neck arching. You don’t think you can hold on much longer. Apparently, neither can he. 

You feel it the moment he starts to swell inside you. It’s perfect, you think. It can’t get better than this– but then it does. 

His teeth graze your throat again, this time a little harsher and with a little more intent. “Mine,” he whispers. The second he bites you everything goes blurry. 

You’re experiencing… heaven. There is a rush of that electricity that buzzes under your skin. It bursts forth and you feel it reaching out, forming a link between the two of you that you know is now impenetrable. It pulses and burns and you can feel him, feel his pleasure, his desire, his need for you and only you– his need to make you his. You think your souls must be blending, merging, with how deep the connection runs. You think you know him, know everything you could possibly ever need to. You know he’s the one. You know he’s yours.

It’s perfect, the way it fulfills every desire you’ve ever had, the way he notches inside your cunt like that’s where he was made to be, the way his teeth clamp around your throat and bond you together forever.

You scream for him, you think, but you can’t tell through the complete and total haze of pleasure. Your walls spasm around him, milking him for every last drop, and you feel the heat of his cum coating your cervix. The heat at your center finally releases, bursting and flooding through you in a way that feels like pure bliss has been injected into your veins. Your thighs quake and tremble with the pure intensity of it all and white spots dot your vision. 

His body is tense above you, shivering with the magnitude of what’s just happened. He’s groaning into your neck, your flesh still clamped between his teeth like he never wants to let go. You’re not sure you ever want him to. 

Your breaths shake in and out, lungs heaving as you finally come down. His knot is still settled deep inside you and with the few strings of consciousness that slowly filter back into your mind you know that he’ll remain there for a while.

His teeth release from your neck with a squelch that you think you would be sickening in any other context, but only makes you whimper at the loss of contact. He only hums and finds your hand, twining your fingers together as he laps at the fresh bite on your throat. It feels… amazing. Not in the way it felt before, like he was licking pure lust straight onto your skin, but more like he’s giving you a comfort you have never known in your life. You feel safe in his arms, like nothing could ever hurt you here. 

His lips press a final kiss to your throat before you feel him shifting. He gently rolls you both onto your sides, getting comfortable and pulling you to his chest while you both wait for the next wave of lust to hit you. It will, you know. Sooner rather than later, too. Your mind has cleared enough to realize what’s happening, what’s to come. You won’t be leaving this room, this bed, for quite some time. 

A gentle hand brushes a sweaty lock of hair from your eyes before it settles on the nape of your neck, massaging the sore muscles there. You sigh and raise your gaze to find him already looking at you, an easy smile on his lips. He has dimples, you realize, and he’s… breathtaking. And now… he’s all yours.

There’s a beat of silence between you, a moment of reconciliation with what’s just happened between you, of what it means. You blink up at him, your lips parting to say something, anything, but instead your brows furrow in thought.

His smile drops instantly. He leans into you, thumb caressing your cheek. “What is it, sweetheart?” 

Your mouth runs dry. You peek up at him from beneath your lashes. “What’s your name?”

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[summercomfort]

in my pursuit of ever-increasingly niche comics, I drew a 13 page comic about Tape v Hurley, a court case about Chinese-American school segregation in 1885. The rest of the pages are after the readmore, as well as on AO3 here. More obsure Chinese American court case comics are there, as well.

Historical Notes

Mary and Joseph Tape were not born in America, but their names and identities were very much formed in America. Joseph Tape was born Jeu Dip in Guangdong, China, immigrated the America when he was twelve, and spent his teenage years working as a house servant in an Irish household. Mary arrived in America at the age of eleven, and was found and raised as Mary McGladery in a Protestant orphanage as the only Chinese child amongst ~80 children. Both Mary and Jeu spent their formative years amongst White Christian families, so when Jeu Dip and Mary married in 1875, little wonder that Jeu picked the English name of Joseph Tape -- Joseph to match with Mary, and the German last name Tape as a nod to his former name of Dip.

The Tape family lived about 14 blocks outside of Chinatown, in a primarily white neighborhood. They dressed in Western clothing, spoke English at home, and Mamie grew up playing with non-Chinese kids. Naturally, they wanted their children to attend the local elementary school, a mere 3 blocks from their home. The principal, Ms. Hurley, denied her entrance, claiming that she was “filthy and diseased.” At the time, there was no public school option for Chinese children -- the 1870 state law stipulated separate schools for “African and Indian children” only, not Chinese. The Tape family, with the help of the Chinese Six Companies, their church, and the Chinese consulate, decided to sue, claiming that the 1880 California school code guaranteed everyone a right to public education and that this was a violation of the 14th Amendment.

They won.

But this was 1885, three years after the passage of the Chinese Exclusion Act and six years before Plessy v Ferguson. Regardless of what the California Supreme Court might decide, public sentiment was on the side of the San Francisco school district. Determined to keep out this “invasion of Mongol barbarism”, the California State Legislature passed a law permitting separate schools for Chinese children, which then allowed Principal Hurley to reject Mamie Tape once more.

While Mamie was rejected from the Spring Valley Elementary School for being Chinese, she also had a hard time fitting in to the Chinese public school. The Chinese merchants saw Western education as something primarily for boys. (Their girl children learned from their mothers at home.) Mamie, a girl dressed in Western clothes, would have stood out like a sore thumb. The final panel of the comic was based on a photo from three years later, and even then, Mamie was the only girl.

Places where I fudged the history: Frank, Mamie’s younger brother, was actually six years old and should have been more present in the comic, but I wante to keep the focus on Mamie and Mary. Also, Mamie had actually shown up to her first day of school in Western clothes. An earlier draft of the comic had a separate arc involving Mamie feeling rejected at school and Mary buying her some Chinese clothes, but that got too long and complicated.

Much of this was drawn from Mae Ngai’s book about the Tape family and their experiences as 2nd and 3rd generation Chinese Americans, titled “The Lucky Ones.”

----------

Here is Mary Tape's letter to the San Francisco School Board, 1885:

1769 Green Street. San Francisco, April 8, 1885. To the Board of Education - Dear Sirs: I see that you are going to make all sorts of excuses to keep my child out off the Public schools. Dear sirs, Will you please to tell me! Is it a disgrace to be Born a Chinese? Didn’t God make us all!!! What right have you to bar my children out of the school because she is a chinese Decend. They is no other worldly reason that you could keep her out, except that. I suppose, you all goes to churches on Sundays! Do you call that a Christian act to compell my little children to go so far to a school that is made in purpose for them. My children don’t dress like the other Chinese. They look just as phunny amongst them as the Chinese dress in Chinese look amongst you Caucasians. Besides, if I had any wish to send them to a chinese school I could have sent them two years ago without going to all this trouble. You have expended a lot of the Public money foolishly, all because ofa one poor little Child. Her playmates is all Caucasians ever since she could toddle around. If she is good enough to play with them! Then is she not good enough to be in the same room and studie with them? You had better come and see for yourselves. See if the Tape’s is not same as other Caucasians, except in features. It seems no matter how a Chinese may live and dress so long as you know they Chinese. Then they are hated as one. There is not any right or justice for them. You have seen my husband and child. You told him it wasn’t Mamie Tape you object to. If it were not Mamie Tape you object to, then why didn’t you let her attend the school nearest her home! Instead of first making one pre tense Then another pretense of some kind to keep her out? It seems to me Mr. Moulder has a grudge against this Eight-year-old Mamie Tape. I know they is no other child I mean Chinese child! care to go to your public Chinese school. May you Mr. Moulder, never be persecuted like the way you have persecuted little Mamie Tape. Mamie Tape will never attend any of the Chinese schools of your making! Never!!! I will let the world see sir What justice there is When it is govern by the Race prejudice men! Just because she is of the Chinese decend, not because she don’t dress like you because she does. Just because she is descended of Chinese parents I guess she is more of a American then a good many of you that is going to prewent her being Educated. Mrs. M. Tape

[sissylittlefeather]

I wrote something!!!

I'm not sure if it's any good, but the writer's block passed long enough for me to get this one done. I hope you enjoy it!

Hot for Teacher

A/N: an AU in which you and Elvis are teachers at a high school together. Special thanks to @ccab for helping me come up with the idea for this one! Also, this is a slow burn, but the payout is worth it, I hope!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI!, kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, ejaculation, also some baby talk during sex kinda?

Word count: ~5.5k

It's 1965, so this is our Mr. Presley:

You'd been the art teacher at Central High School for almost five years when they hired a new choir director in 1965. You were sad when Mrs. Sparks retired because she had been your director when you went to the school, but you were curious about who they were going to bring in. When you found out it was a man, you were definitely shocked. You didn't know men could teach in a school as anything other than a coach, but the principal assured you he was qualified.

When you see him on the first day, you almost drop all the art supplies you're carrying. He is the most attractive man you've ever seen in your life. When he notices you struggling with the armful of supplies, he runs over to help.

"Can I take some of this for ya, honey?" His southern accent is as smooth as butter and you're glad he's there to catch the supplies as you almost drop them again. He takes a bulk of them from your arms and then gestures for you to lead the way to the classroom. Once inside, you show him where he can unload the supplies. He walks over to you and extends his hand.

"I'm Mr. Presley, Elvis Presley. I'm the new choir director." You take his hand and shake it slowly.

"I'm Miss Y/l/n, art teacher."

"Miss not Mrs.?" He looks at you sweetly.

"Yeah, just Miss." You make a conscious effort not to look down at your feet, but his gaze is so soft that it makes you nervous.

"Well, it looks like we'll be sharing a hallway, Miss Y/l/n. Nice to meet you." He smiles and your stomach clenches. His blue eyes and perfect smile make the blush rise in your cheeks. You aren't used to being in the presence of such an attractive man.

"Yeah. Thanks for helping me." It sounds dumb but it's all you can get out.

"You're welcome! Well, I better head back to my room. If I need any help, can I bother you again?" You nod to let him know he can bother you whenever he wants. Then, he backs out of the room smiling and heads down the hallway.

******

At the beginning of the second week of school, he pokes his head into your room just as you're getting ready to walk to the teachers' lounge for lunch. You've seen him in the hall a couple of times, but there hasn't been much to your conversations beyond politeness and brief answers to his questions about the school.

"This might sound silly, but where do you eat lunch?" You noticed that he hasn't been eating in the lounge, but you never guessed it's because he doesn't know where it is.

"In the lounge. It's on the second floor in the sophomore hall."

"Oh. Do you mind if I come with you?" You look up at him. Is he asking to eat lunch with you? No. Surely he just wants to know where the lounge is.

"Yeah, sure!" He nods and smiles, almost seeming relieved that you said yes. You grab your lunch box and walk with him up the back stairs to the lounge. You assume that once you get there, he'll sit somewhere away from you, but he doesn't. He settles in right next to you and starts to unload his food.

"How long have you been here?"

"This is my fifth year."

"Did you teach somewhere before this?"

"Nope. This is my only school."

"So you're, what, 26?"

"28. I went to graduate school before I started teaching." You're not sure why your age matters, but the more you talk, the more comfortable you get with him. He's very easy to talk to because it feels like he's really listening.

"This is my 8th year teaching, but I started at a bigger school as an assistant director."

"How are you liking it here?" He smiles and the conversation continues through lunch.

He walks you back to your classroom and thanks you for helping him find the lounge.

"Same time tomorrow?" He asks when you reach your door.

"Oh, yeah, sure." You're not sure why he's so excited to eat lunch with you, but you're not complaining. He's so cute and surprisingly good company.

When the kids make their way into the room, you hear a group of girls whispering and catch pieces of the conversation. You definitely hear "Mr. Presley" and something about wearing a short skirt. At first, you roll your eyes, but then you say a quick prayer that he's not one of those teachers.

******

Your lunchtime together becomes a ritual and before too long, you both come to expect each other's company while you eat. One day, you have to stay in your room while a group of girls works on a project. He pokes his head in to pick you up for your walk to the lounge, but you gesture to the girls.

"No lunch date today?" He asks, disappointment in his voice. Your mouth pops open at the word date, but you close it quickly. However, the group of girls definitely notice both his use of the word and your reaction. They look at each other and giggle.

"No, I'm sorry. I have to stay with them."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I should be available."

"Good!" He smiles and backs out of the room.

As soon as he's gone, the girls elbow each other trying to get the other one to talk. Finally, one pipes up.

"Miss Y/l/n, are you dating Mr. Presley?" You feel your cheeks get hot.

"No. I'm absolutely not."

"Why not? If he looked at me like that, I would!" They erupt into a cascade of giggles and your cheeks get even hotter.

How does he look at you? Surely, they're just seeing things.

******

It doesn't take long for the rumors to start flying around the school about you and Mr. Presley. You finally hear one that makes you blush and you decide to talk to him and see what he has to say about them. When you walk to his room after school, he's sitting at the piano and there's a group of girls all fighting for his attention. He's trying to get them to focus on whatever they're supposed to be practicing, but they're too busy trying to flirt. At first, you get a little nervous that he's feeding into their efforts, but it doesn't take you long to realize he's not just oblivious, he's annoyed by them.

"Girls, let's go back to the beginning." He practically hollers just before he sees you in the doorway. He instantly stands up, towering over the heads of the teen girls, and smiles at you. They all stop tittering and turn to see what earned this reaction from him. When they see that it's you, they completely fall apart laughing.

He looks around at them confused and ushers them away from the piano to get their things and leave the classroom. Just as she's leaving, the last girl snickers.

"We'll just leave you two alone, then." He looks up at her suddenly and then back to you.

"What was that all about?"

"You haven't heard? Apparently you and I are doing all kinds of unspeakable things when the students leave." Now it's his turn to blush and look at his shoes.

"I try really hard not to listen to what they say about me." You hadn't considered how hard it might be for him to be taken seriously looking the way he does. He looks back up at you, the little piece of hair on his forehead bouncing with the movement.

"What should we do about it?" You ask.

"Well, we could just make the rumors true." He smiles devilishly and you inhale sharply. "I'm kidding, y/n."

That's the first time he's called you by your first name. You honestly wonder how he knows it. You're also completely caught off guard by the obvious flirtation of his last statement.

"I'm sorry. I've just found that the best way to deal with this is to joke about it or ignore it completely. Trying to deny it just makes them talk more. Trust me on this."

"Okay. If that's what you think is best." He walks over to you and you feel like he's trying hard not to touch you.

"It'll blow over. They'll be bored soon and move on to some other rumor." You nod and look up at him. There's an undeniable energy between you, but you choose to ignore it. You walk away and head for the door of his classroom. "It'll be fine."

"Thanks. I'll see you later." You head back to your classroom, nerves lit up like a Christmas tree. Was he kidding?

******

You continue like this for the next few months, eating lunch together and hanging out in each other's classrooms after school. Eventually the rumors cool, but they still come up every once in a while. You learn to ignore them and the giggling that happens any time Mr. Presley sticks his head into your classroom to ask a question. But you still haven't learned to call him Elvis, despite him asking you to regularly. When you're alone, he calls you by your first name. There are several more occasions that feel specifically flirty, but they're never overt enough for you to know whether he's serious or not.

In the spring, he decides to take his competition choir to a contest in Florida. He needs a female chaperone, so he asks you if you'll go with them. You're not sure how you feel about spending a weekend on the beach with 20 high school kids and this man that you can't stop thinking about, but you decide to say yes when he comes practically begging with his big blue eyes.

"Please, y/n, I really need a female teacher to come with us. Everything is paid for. It'll be fun."

"Okay, but where exactly are we going?" You ask tentatively. His eyes start to sparkle when you say okay.

"Fort Lauderdale. There's a big choir festival there every year. And the kids get some beach time. It'll be great."

"Beach time? We have to chaperone them on the beach?" He laughs.

"Nah, we'll let them run wild for that part." You reach out and shove him playfully without thinking. That's the first time you've ever really touched him and there's definitely something there that makes your heart skip a little. He gives you a look that seems to indicate that he felt something similar. There's a moment where you're looking at each other before his classroom door opens and the principal walks in, breaking whatever was between you.

"Mr. Presley, did you find a female chaperone for your trip?"

"I did! Miss y/l/n has agreed to come with us." The principal looks between you for a second and then shrugs.

"Sounds good. Just make sure you keep the kids safe, keep them out of trouble, and bring back a trophy." She turns and walks out, leaving you alone with him again. You look back at him and raise your eyebrows.

"Guess there's no backing out now."

"Nope." He smiles and you almost melt. Why does he have to be so attractive?

******

When it comes time for the big beach trip, you pack your most modest bathing suit and head up to the school to get on the bus. You're nervous about how you'll handle being the only two adults with 20 teenagers. You're also nervous about spending so much time with Mr. Presley away from school. Until now, you've never seen him outside the four walls of the high school. You settle in the front seat with your bag tucked up underneath you, assuming he'll sit in another seat. But he doesn't. He sits right next to you.

"Good morning!" His proximity makes your stomach flip flop.

"Hi, Mr. Presley." He sighs.

"Elvis, please. You can call me Elvis." You nod, but have no intention of calling him by his first name. He stands up and gives the kids some announcements and rules to follow before the bus pulls out. The drive is long, so you get comfortable and look out the window.

Once you're on the road, the conversation flows naturally between you and the time passes quickly. The kids are well-behaved when you stop for lunch, so you relax quite a bit about your chaperone duties.

When you roll into the hotel around dinner time, you're all ready to get some food and relax in your rooms. The kids need a good night of sleep before the competition tomorrow morning and beach time in the afternoon. He orders pizza for the group and everyone makes their way to their rooms to eat. You check on all the girl rooms while he walks around to the boy rooms and you meet back in the middle at your rooms. He has a pizza for you to share.

"You wanna eat in my room or yours?" You didn't think about the fact that you'd need to be in one room to share the food.

"Um, let's do your room." He smiles and opens the door for you to walk in before him. Then, he walks to the bed and sits on the edge, patting the bedspread next to him. You plop down next to him and grab a slice of pizza from the box. He grabs a slice too and sets the box down on his other side.

"We've had lunch together a lot, but this is our first dinner date. I wish it was a little fancier." He smiles and holds up his pizza. There it is again, the word date. Does he want to date you? You take a few more bites of pizza trying to work up the courage to ask. He seems to know what you're thinking, though, and addresses it before you can.

"Y'know, y/n, I wouldn't mind taking you out to a real dinner sometime." He swallows hard and looks down at his pizza. It's almost like you make him nervous too. You take a deep breath and then answer.

"I'd like that." He looks up at you quickly, a relieved smile on his face.

"You would?"

"Mhmm." You nod, smiling back at him. As you finish eating, you talk about different restaurants in town that you could go to when he takes you out. After the meal, you talk for a while before you decide to head to bed. At the door, you turn to thank him for the meal and before you know it, he's pressing his lips against yours, with his arms around your waist. You're shocked, but it doesn't take you long to wrap your arms around his neck. You stay like this for a while before he pulls back and presses his forehead to yours.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time."

You're still in shock that he kissed you. Asking you out was one thing, this was something else entirely. Still, there's a big part of you that wants him to keep kissing you. The fact that you're in a hotel room becomes glaringly obvious and for half a second you forget that you're there to chaperone teenagers. But it comes screaming back to you when there's a knock on the door. He jumps backwards away from you and hides you behind the door as he opens it.

"Mr. Presley, we were wondering if there was any extra pizza?" It's a group of boys that are apparently still hungry. He grabs the pizza from his bed and walks back to the door, handing it to the guys. Once the door is closed, he looks at you with a big sigh of relief.

"That was close."

"Yeah. I should get back to my room." He nods and peeks out the door to make sure the hallway is clear. You move quickly toward the door but he grabs you one last time and plants another kiss on your lips before you can stop him.

"Elvis!" You hiss as you break away from him and sneak over to your door.

"You called me Elvis!" He stands there with a crooked grin on his face as you blush and make your way into your room.

"Goodnight!" He whispers as you nod and close the door to your room, leaning against the back of it breathing heavily. Everything that just happened feels like a dream and you're not sure where to go from here.

A not-small part of you imagines slipping back into his room later once you're certain everyone is asleep. But you shake your head to get rid of that idea. Just because he kissed you doesn't mean he wants you in his bed. Does he?

Oh well. You won't find out this weekend. You wash your face and put on your pajamas. Tomorrow should be interesting.

******

The contest in the morning goes really well and the kids are proud to get a trophy for second place. They perform well and you can tell Elvis is proud. He's beaming when he comes to you after the awards ceremony and wraps you in a hug. It takes about thirty seconds for you both to realize that the students are looking at you.

They elbow each other and whisper, so he lets go quickly and corrals them back to the bus to go back to the hotel before their beach time. You stand there in awe for a minute before you take up the back of the line and make sure everyone makes it where they belong.

******

Once you get to the beach, the kids spread out and claim spots on the sand. You lay out your towel where you can be sure to keep an eye on them and then take off your cover up. You feel eyes on you and look over to see Elvis standing and watching you.

"Is this spot taken?" He asks, gesturing to the ground next to you.

"Nope. I saved it just for you." He laughs and sets out a towel next to yours. He has on scandalously small shorts and a small button down. You try not to stare as he sits down.

"That is a bold outfit choice." You say jokingly.

"What? It's what I wear to swim!" He tries to defend himself.

"You trying to impress these 17 year old girls?"

"No, I'm trying to impress you." He almost whispers. You look up and meet his blue eyes, and you feel like if you don't look away, he'll lean in and kiss you right there on the beach.

"Well, it's working." You whisper back as you look out to the water. He smiles and looks over to where the kids are.

"I could say the same thing about your bathing suit. You trying to drive these boys insane?" You snap your head over to him incredulously.

"I guarantee you they don't notice-"

"I hear what they say about you. I'm not the only one with a crush." You feel your cheeks get hot.

"Oh, stop."

"I'm serious. You really think that many boys are interested in art?" You have noticed an unusual number of boys in your classes. Is he right?

"I never thought-"

"You're a beautiful woman, y/n. I can't say that I blame them." If it weren't for the kids you'd tackle him right then and there. You've never made love on a beach, but he's making you think about it.

"Careful. We have a job to do here. You're distracting me." You say it playfully, but you're more serious than you sound.

"Good. The kids have to sleep eventually." He runs his finger down your arm softly, and you get goosebumps. There's an undeniable electricity in his touch.

The rest of the day is spent like this, with whispered flirtation and stolen touches. By the time the sun is setting and it's time to head back to the hotel, you're both so turned on that you're not sure how you're going to make it through dinner without jumping on him.

******

Somehow, you survive dinner at a decent seafood place close by. He wrinkles his nose when you order shellfish and you mock him endlessly when he orders chicken. But it just continues the game you've been playing since the night before. By now, the kids have to have noticed how sexually charged you both are. But if they do, they don't say anything or do anything to indicate that they do. They're too wrapped up in their own teenage melodramas to pay attention to their teachers.

When you get back to the hotel after dinner, you make sure everyone is securely in their rooms and then head back to your own room.

He looks both ways down the hallway to make sure you're alone and then pulls you into a deep kiss, this time parting your lips with his and sliding his tongue into your mouth. He presses your body up against your hotel room door and rolls his hips into you.

"I've been trying so hard not to do that all day." He whispers into your mouth after he pulls back. You whimper a little bit and he kisses you again.

"Elvis, we can't do this. Not here."

"No, you're right. I just needed to kiss you." He kisses your forehead and then pulls away from you, looking at the ceiling. He rearranges his pants, so that his erection is less obvious.

"Goodnight, y/n. I'll see you in the morning." He moves back to his door and opens it with the key. You open your door and you both walk in, closing the doors behind you.

******

In your room, you walk to the bed and sit down, sighing. You'd give just about anything to be in a hotel room with him not chaperoning kids.

You lay on your bed fully clothed for close to an hour before you finally decide you should get ready for bed. As you're walking over to your suitcase, you're surprised to hear a soft knock on the door. You assume it's one of the girls needing something, so you walk to it quickly. When you open the door, though, it's not one of the students. It's Elvis. He walks into the room and shuts the door behind himself.

"What? Why?"

"I can't stop thinking about you." He reaches out and puts his hand on the side of your face. Then, he leans in and kisses your lips gently. He hovers over your mouth and then kisses you a second time. The third time he opens your mouth with his and his tongue grazes yours softly. He hovers again and whispers.

"Do you want me to stop?" The feeling of his lips on yours is intoxicating and you need so much more of him.

"No." He dives into kissing you fully, tongue dancing wildly against yours, and hands wrapping around your midsection to grab your ass and pull you into him. Your arms immediately go around his neck, as he pulls at your clothing. He drags your shirt up over your head and off and you desperately tear at the buttons on his. He starts to walk backwards toward the bed, removing his shirt and shoes as he goes, but never letting his lips leave yours. You follow him, reaching behind your back to unhook your bra and toss it to the side.

When you get to the bed, he sits on the edge and you climb on top of him, straddling him where he sits, your naked skin pressed against each other. You make out like this for a while, feeling his erection pushing against you through his pants, before he stands up with you wrapped around him, turns, and lays you back on the bed with him on top of you. As he's kissing down your neck to your chest, he whispers again.

"You're sure this is what you want, because I'm about to hit a point where there's no stopping." You smile and nod your head.

"Yes. Don't stop." You feel him smile against your skin as his tongue circles your nipple, his fingers pinching and teasing the other. His hand grasps your side as he continues to kiss down your body to the spot between your bellybutton and the top of your pants. He removes your pants and underwear together, pulling them gently down your legs and revealing the most intimate part of you to him. Then, he kisses your ankle before sliding his hands up both of your legs, settling himself between them.

"Goddamn, you're beautiful." You've never heard him cuss before, but something about it makes your core throb. He slowly drags a finger up your slit and finds the sensitive spot at the top. "And you're already so wet for me, baby."

He starts to massage your clit and you moan and arch your back. You've never known a man to make you come so undone with just his hand. He slides his finger back down and pushes it into you, moving it in and out before adding a second finger. That's when he leans over and presses his tongue to your clit and you almost scream. He moves it over and around the hardened bud as he slams his fingers in and out of you quickly. You feel the coil of your orgasm tighten as he continues to lick you and fuck you with his hand. He feels your walls flutter and whispers into your clit.

"Come for me, baby." The subtle vibration of his voice is the last thing you need to push you over the edge and you dive into oblivion, your toes curling as the waves of pleasure rush from your core out to your extremities and back again.

"Oh, God, Elvis." You moan as you ride out the high of your orgasm. He kisses your hip and slides his fingers out of you, wiping his face as he moves back up your body.

"How was that, baby?"

"That was incredible. Don't tell me you're finished?"

"Oh, baby, I'm just getting started." He takes your hand and puts it on his hardened member and you begin to stroke him through his pants. He undoes the clasp and slides them down and you're surprised to see he isn't wearing any underwear, so his cock bounces free easily. You're not sure what you expected, considering the rest of him is perfection, but his cock is beautiful. It's uncut, long, and straight and it makes your mouth water just looking at it. But you'll have to taste it another time because he doesn't waste a second lining himself up with your entrance.

"Are you ready for me?" He kisses your mouth again.

"God, yes, please." He nods and pushes into you, slowly filling you up. The sensation is delicious and you whimper because he's going so slow.

"Your little pussy is desperate for me, huh?" He smiles and you nod aggressively.

"Well, she's going to have to wait." He teases and starts to pull back out.

"No! Please!" He laughs a little at how needy you are.

"Alright, baby can have what she wants." He pushes into you swiftly and deeply, stuffing you to the hilt. This time you moan together.

"Goddamn, you feel so good. So tight and wet for me." He kisses your neck and starts to pump in and out of you passionately. His hips slam into yours rhythmically as his balls slap your ass. You've never felt anything so satisfying and you wrap your legs around him to make sure he doesn't stop any time soon.

"Yes, fuck me." It slips out of your mouth before you can stop it and he laughs again.

"Baby has a dirty mouth. Maybe she needs to be punished." He pulls out of you and moves your legs from around him, turning you over onto your stomach. He pushes your legs together and finds your pussy, slipping into you from behind. Then, he slides one hand up under you to rub your clit, grabbing your hair and pulling gently with the other. He kisses the back of your neck and shoulder as he continues to fuck you, finger making circles on your sensitive nub.

"How's that, baby?" All you can get out is a moan and a whimper. It feels so good and you're right on the brink of another climax. The feeling of his dick inside you and hand working your clit is almost overwhelming. Two more thrusts and you tumble over the edge again, electricity bubbling in your veins as you come hard.

"Yes, Elvis! Fuck!" You say it through gritted teeth. Your orgasm seems to send him over the edge too and he pulls out quickly pumping his cock until his release shoots out all over your ass and back.

"Fuck, yes, baby, that's so good." He moans as he comes on you. Then, he rolls over onto his back next to you and you prop your head up with your arms.

"I'm sorry; I really intended to turn you back over, but I didn't make it." He smiles at you sheepishly.

"I'm not complaining. That might be the hottest thing that's ever happened to me."

He rolls off the bed and fetches a washcloth from the bathroom to clean you up. You turn over to face him on the bed and he pulls you in close until your skin is pressed up against him again. He puts his hand on your cheek and kisses you deeply.

"I'd be lying if I said that wasn't a fantasy come true." You laugh and look into his eyes.

"It was for me too."

"Can I stay with you?" He runs his thumb across your cheek.

"What if the kids need us and we're in the same room?"

"Well, then they'll have a good story for when we return. Come on, I'll leave before anyone is awake in the morning. I just want to hold you a little longer." You can't argue with that. The feeling of his body against yours is everything you've ever wanted.

"Okay. But you have to leave really early." He smiles and snuggles into your hair.

"I promise."

******

The next morning, you're awakened by a knock on the door. Elvis is still wrapped around you and you're both naked.

"Miss y/l/n! We can't find Mr. Presley! Abigail is sick!"

He pops his head up when he hears his name.

"Shit shit shit!" He whispers, frantically trying to find his clothes. You glance at the clock in your state of panic. 6:27am. He should've been gone by now. You pull your robe on and he hides in the bathroom as you answer the door.

"What did you need?"

"Sorry to bother you so early. We tried knocking on Mr. Presley's door, but he didn't answer. Abigail has a fever."

"Okay, well, we will need to call her parents. We're going home today anyway, so there's not much else we can do. Thanks for letting me know."

"Do you know where Mr. Presley is?"

"Oh, he's probably just asleep."

"We knocked pretty hard..."

"I'm sure it's fine. Go on back to your room. I'll be there in a bit." You close the door and he comes out of the bathroom and wraps his arms around you.

"That was close." You sigh and lean against his chest.

"Yeah, but it was worth it." He kisses your lips gently and then goes to finish getting dressed. You start to get ready and he gives you one last kiss before sneaking back to his own room.

******

You make it back to the school without any other incidents. The girl with the fever is reunited with her parents and sent home. None of the other kids seem to suspect anything happened between the two of you. Once all of the students are sent home with their parents, you realize you're alone with him again.

"What are you doing tonight?" He asks, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Nothing. This wasn't just a vacation fling?"

"Not for me. Was it for you?" He looks at you worried.

"Oh, no. I was just making sure."

"Can I take you to dinner? Without the students this time?" You laugh and nod your head yes.

"I wonder how long we'll make it before the kids figure us out." He ponders out loud, taking your hand and walking you to his car.

"Oh, I'm sure there'll be new rumors about us tomorrow. Might as well make them true." You give him a sly look and a wide grin crosses his face.

"Baby, that's the best idea you've ever had."

******

Fin

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @ashtag6887 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows

Want to be added to the taglist for everything I write? Let me know!

[mindfulmuse88]

Unbiased: This is what is ACTUALLY going on with birthright citizenship in the USA

Disclaimer: I am neither Democrat nor Republican. all information is facts and unbiased As you may have heard, President Trump signed an order attempting to end birthright citizenship; his order specifically states that at least one parent must be a citizen of the USA for a baby to gain citizenship. However, a judge temporarily blocked the order by calling it "unconstitutional." It is planned to take effect on February 19th unless another injunction is put in place. It is also worth noting that Trump's order does not have retroactive effect, so if it is enforced at some point, it would only apply to babies born after the effective date of the order.

Is this, therefore, unconstitutional? The crux of this whole matter is the text of the 14th Amendment:

"All people born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States wherein they reside."

The question is, what does "subject to the jurisdiction thereof" truly mean? Trump's administration argues that someone is only subject to U.S. jurisdiction if at least one of their parents is a citizen. They claim that undocumented immigrants are subject to the jurisdiction of their foreign country rather than the U.S., and therefore, their children should not be granted automatic citizenship at birth. The plaintiffs, however, argue that as long as you are present on U.S. soil, you are subject to the jurisdiction of the U.S.

If we look back in U.S. history, one key case from 1898 is United States v. Wong Kim Ark. In this case, Ark was born in San Francisco to parents who were Chinese citizens but permanent residents of the U.S. At some point, his parents moved back to China, and Ark went to visit them. However, when Ark returned to the U.S., he was denied entry because he was allegedly not a U.S. citizen. So, his case to court.

Ultimately, the question was: Does a child born in the U.S. to non-citizen parents—who are permanent residents and not working for a foreign government—automatically become a U.S. citizen at birth?

The justices ruled that Ark was entitled to citizenship based on the Civil Rights Act of 1866, which states:

"All people born in the U.S. who are not subject to any foreign power, excluding Indians not taxed, are citizens of the United States."

Two years later, the 14th Amendment was ratified, confirming birthright citizenship, including for children born to resident aliens. The ruling further stated that the 14th Amendment, in clear words, includes children born in the U.S. regardless of race or color, so long as the parents are domiciled within the U.S. The decision explicitly stated:

"Every citizen or subject of another country, while domiciled here, is within the allegiance and protection of the United States and consequently subject to its jurisdiction."

So, the next legal question is: What does "domiciled" mean? Does "domiciled" simply mean permanent residency?

The legal definition of domicile is:

"A place where a person has been physically present and considers home, or a person’s true, fixed, principal, and permanent home to which they intend to return and remain."

Technically, permanent residency does not necessarily match this definition. This will be an important issue for the courts to examine.

The courts may also consider that the legal landscape has changed drastically since Wong Kim Ark. At the time of that ruling, illegal immigration as we know it today barely existed. In fact, it wasn’t even a crime to cross the southern border illegally until 1929. Immigration law has since dramatically shifted, and that context matters.

Also, just a reminder: Trump cannot change the Constitution via executive order. His order isn’t technically altering the 14th Amendment; instead, he is instructing his executive branch not to recognize certain people as citizens if they do not meet specific criteria.

In the end, it will be up to the courts to determine what the 14th Amendment truly means and which interpretation of the law is correct.

[ao3stuffofme]

Deon was an ordinary person in his mid 20s. He is an albino and has a bad relationship with his family-his parents and his brother.

However he needed money so he decided to become a streamer - a v-tuber - since he didnt want other people finding out about this.

Deon quickly became famous and loved by many people - he even had sponsors who constantly tried overbetting the others.

However his brother was Unbeknownst to Deon always his top sponsor - now the question is: how did Cruel,his brother, know about this?

The answer is simple: he tracked Deons actions down to ensure Deon didnt get involved with anything or anyone dangerous.

Since Deon had gotten quite a bit of money - enough for him - he noticed how lonely he was. So he hired some group named "the lofty knights". He hired them to keep him company (sidenote: i mean those types known in Japan-they get hired by people to hang out with them. I hope u all know what i mean bc i dont know how they are called) and those men did a good job. However one problem arose - they pitied Deon and also really liked him so they decided to keep him company and keep any dark thoughts away from Deon. Deon on the other hand just saw them as annoying men who didnt wanna leave him alone and wanted to bully him.

Sometimes these people were being heard during streams but Deon never said anything about them.

Now,who are the sponsors that I mentioned earlier? They are obviously the people with the nickname "the emperor","a quiet admirer","a hero" and "the demon king" - these were the ones who paid the most to Deon - but Deon or rather Arut had some more sponsors. Even though one user named "the duke" kept spamming and blackmailing him. That user claimed that his lover broke up with him after he started watching Aruts streams - Deon simply blocked him.

So why is Arut so famous?

He gives reviews of books and other works - no one can buy him off so he became a reliable source of many. He also plays games and he has a gives of a vibe of that captivates his audience.

He also sometimes makes events where he dresses like a cat boy or does dance - his face is obviously always hidden - and he also sometimes does the request of his highest paying sponsor. Most of the time its something like "eat three meals a day and give evidence that u ate it" or "go to a doctor to get a check up" - Deon hates it but his fans love seeing him doing just normal things like that.

But what about Deons privat life? Does he go to school?

The answer is: yes, our streamer goes to high school. One of his professors,Cavert, keeps trying to get Deon to talk with him - Deon hates him. There is also a green head that keeps trying to befriend him - but he is too cool for Deon and Deon is worried that he has an ulterior motive. But we also gotta mention the yellow headed professor (whats the emperors name again?) who tries to get Deon to stop taking Caverts classes. The two professors are acting like rivals which lead to many - lets just say "not very pleasant" rumours. Another professor with purple hair keeps trying to fail him.

However other than those people no one really brothers Deon - his brother just stares at him from a distance. Probably because the principal,a war veteran whos nickname is "the first hero", keeps calling Deon to his office and at parties some professors and him keep a special eye on Deon so he doesn't drink alcohol.

[quornesha]

Egyptian Vulture Prophecy And Symbolism

The Following Channel is from higher powers, Divine, the ancestral plane and is prophetic through Quornesha S. Lemon|

Whether the Egyptian Vulture appears in dreams, visions, waking life or synchronicities, it is a sign and message that there’s about to be some upheaval and destruction of the old ways. There will be a death of a “king'“ in a your life. Your old life is no more. You will never be able to return to the way things use to be. But this time, your life is getting better, and newer and greater things are on the horizon. This “king” in your life will most likely meet an untimely death.

This is due to arrogance, manipulation and the inability to be humble in the face of authority figures. This person has evil plans against you and will take the place in which they wish for you. Whilst you may feel emotional because of how drastic this tower moment will be for him this will allow you to heal and live your life in peace. This life of ease is snatching away from you something that has been causing you pain and disruption for years. This enemy is about to face a plehora of stumbling blocks that they will not be able to recover from. Time has expired on them.

I see cities shut down. A lockdown is coming. People are about to start acting ratchet and rioting. The riots are coming. I see cities in chaos. People robbing stores. There will be army reinforcements. I see China retaliated against with heavy missiles and military reinforcements. Decepticon against decepticon. Your enemies are turning on each other. I see body parts scattered. Soon there will be a plethora of explosions and deaths that will shower body parts all over the lands. I see it literally raining body parts. The destroyer is about to use your enemies body parts as a violin.

There are ancestors on your side that have witnessed you go through things that you’ve thought you went through alone. The Egyptian Vulture is a prophecy of an inevitable end. You may be already experiencing physical symptoms of grief as this ending arrives. This conclusion in your life will be because of what’s about to happen for you. You are about to return all evil to it’s rightful owners. Someone has tried to block you in the spirit and this is returning upon their energy sevenfold. This is your season and no thief can take what’s rightfully yours. You are becoming the divine energy you were always meant to be. It is important to ground and release all excess energy. You have power over curses, and you are able to detect sickness and disease in others, even in animals. You may have some medical intuition that you’re about to tap into. There’s an Egyptian Goddess that is with you who is your ally against principalities and darkness. Your energy is brightening and there will be sunshine.

An enemy will surely come to destruction. Several enemies are about to fall at once. Several false friends are about to fall. These deaths will bring illumination and will help you to create a life of peace, you’re not wishing anything, this is apart of their judgment, their intentions may have been to assassinate you and make it look like an accident, but unfortunately their plans are about to backfire. There may be dead birds that show up at your door before this all takes place in the physical. There could be beetles everywhere you turn. Your prophetic, intuitive gifts are growing.

I am shown more earthquakes coming, that will lead to more death and destruction and Tsunamis to follow due to the level in which they appear. I am shown lightning storms destroying and striking metal. There will be rare sighting of lightning to come. You are an elect, and you are here to fulfill these prophecies. You will not leave this world until God/Divine says so. You have a rare gift that not everyone else has. You are the IT factor. You will see more gatherings of vultures, as your protector spirits come in. The Allies are descending and you are being protected. The Egyptian Vulture is a prophecy, that more power from God/Divine is coming to you and this ending with this “king” although painful will set the stage for greater things to happen in your life. No one will have access to what is meaningful and close to home for you. What God/Divine has promised for you, is yours alone to experience. You are a threat to the kingdom of darkness and so, they have tried to amplify their assault right before your breakthrough and they will still be defeated.

The enemy is about to be at a total loss, materialistically and spiritually. Whoever is attacking you, is standing at a dead end. They are bound up and their power detained. All rights and access revoked, indefinitely. Hold your head up high. And walk on through, because for you and your household everything is going to be alright. God has delivered, right on time. You are about to acquire African assets and collaborations. The enemy on the other hand is resisting arrest and will be dealt with in a lethal way. Destruction is imminent. You have authority over the spirits and deities of death. And you are being delivered from the pharaohs in your life. No evil witch, false high ranking warlock, false high ranking evil person will have the power to destroy you.

This message isn't, obviously resonant with all whose paths it crosses, as perhaps you may encounter someone of this vernacular, mastery or skill. Therefore, it is a sign from the universe that you're meant to work with such a person. 

Need further clarity or your own queries answered? Book your own reading as my schedule is full and I do not guarantee a reply on social media regarding this post.

If this is not you, then it is time to get clear to rejoin your tribe or the rest of the world of infinite beings. It's time to bring your light to the forefront. However, if you aren't able to invoke, heal or otherwise on your own, call on the assistance of shamans, healers, intuitive people, etc. to assist you. This synchronicity can possibly have specific meanings for you, it's time to get insight. 

The Gift that Quornesha Has can never be duplicated, She is a Shaman, Writer, Healer,  And Teacher with incredible prophetic/healing gifts. Please do not infringe upon her rights as the author. You are not permitted to reuse, nor are you to sale as you wish. This information has been made available to you for the purpose of introduction and demonstration. All rights reserved. If you'd like to use this in a magazine, online publication, or other, please ask for permission first. Legal actions will be taken if you proceed to impose. Be blessed, bless others and be at peace on your journey. What you do is coming back on you. Make sure that it is good, and all is well within you, through you and around you.  The source sees all and knows what you think it does not.  Image Credit

[agendabymooner]

9 to 5 || f1 drivers (5)

(SPIN OFF OF COLOUR ME YOUR COLOUR (WIP) and RUSH)

Summary: Lorelei Hester ‘Lester’ Alessandro is a bassist first and Daniel Ricciardo’s partner second. But it seems like another role is added to her resume as she begins her weekend in Baku as Toto Wolff’s children’s babysitter. 

Chapter summary: Daniel Ricciardo stopped by to say hi to what the team principals had considered as threats to their drivers - it was very hard not to get distracted by Soren and Tia Wolff after all. AND Lester Alessandro envied the Wolff cubs' intelligence as Soren was already on his fourteenth short story on a Thursday noon (he just started reading the book that morning).

Content warning: family-centric content, people trying not to swear in front of children, Uncle Danny content, Australia references, Christian Horner mentioned, Hearth sister!OFC x Max Verstappen relationship, Hearth sister!OFC x Charles Leclerc relationship. 

masterlist

v. the little weapons of destruction distraction

Fourteenth story. 

They were barely halfway through the day and Tilly and Toto’s eldest son had finished thirteen fairy tale stories. The thick book of Grimms Fairy Tales, if she was being truthful, would be something that she’d be able to read in the span of three days. Six hours, if she was motivated enough. 

But as she sat there with her own book opened, she couldn’t help but wonder if Tilly worked extremely hard on getting these children to read a lot. 

Lester knew that the kids she was babysitting were fluent in four languages, but she didn’t know if fluency came with the fast paced reading comprehension skills that Soren obviously had been showing. 

Soren Philip Alphonse Wolff was born to an unmarried couple, Tilly Marie (Hearth) and Toto Wolff. When he was born, it was almost like the wall that Toto used to protect his heart broke down. Despite the obvious features that came from Toto, Ren was more like Tilly, if you were to ask Lester or anyone close to them. Timid, shy, but if you ask him about his books and the characters, his eyes would brighten and he would endlessly ramble about it. At the age of five, you would think that he would be talking about dinosaurs (he likes dinosaurs) and rockets (and he likes rockets too) but not Soren. Soren would share his interest in children’s literature to anyone who would like to listen.

So it somehow didn’t come as a surprise when the boy finished his thirteenth story and moved on to the next. He was so occupied by it that he could hear no one but the characters and the background noise. 

“Zia Lori,” a tiny voice beside her spoke, making the bassist turn and give Tia a smile. The girl looked up at her aunt and raised the colouring book that she was just working on. “Do you like it?” 

There were colours outside the lines but Lester could tell that Tia tried staying inside the shapes while she used different crayons. Paddington had never been this vibrant until now. 

Besides from the initials of her name, Tia Christie Vienna Wolff had more commonalities shared with her namesake. She had Toto’s temperament and the way of how she thrived to colour without going outside the line just proved how she was practically Toto’s carbon copy. 

She had a tendency to get frustrated whenever she sat herself down in front of the shape sorters and she couldn’t fit the right animal on it. The first time she (a year and a half during that time) threw the blocks out of frustration, bewilderment was written all over Toto’s face. But when he turned to look at Tilly for an explanation all she said was, “Haven’t you looked at the mirrors lately?” Still to this day, Toto’s reminding his mini me to take a breather first before her temper goes down to shit. Her perfectionism and the frustration that came with it? Yeah. That was all Toto, and ironically, neither of the parents had ever set some expectations for the children. 

“Like it? What do you mean? I love it!” Lester exclaimed, giving the little girl a high five. 

“But look,” Tia pointed at the colours outside the line, “this is bad.”

“No it’s not,” Lester shook her head, “that’s an accident, and an accident isn’t bad sometimes.”

“What’s acc-ent?” Tia tilted her head, curious about the foreign word that came out of her aunt’s mouth. 

Lester chuckled, both at her curiosity and the fact that she could speak as much German and French (and Italian) as she'd like yet not know the word accident in any language, “It is when you do something that you did not mean to do. Like… Oops!” 

“Ah!” Tia nodded enthusiastically. “Acc-ent!” 

“No, no, Tia,” Lester instructed, “follow Zia Lori… ready?” 

“Mhm!” Tia nodded again. 

“A…” “A…” 

“…k…” “…k…”

“si…” “si…”

“…dent.” “…dent.” 

“Accident!” Lester said the word faster.

“Accident!” Tia repeated with a clap of her hands. 

“There we go,” Lester nodded approvingly. She should teach kids about phonics. It seemed fun to teach. “You do so well at words. Do you read with Mama every night?” 

“Yes,” Tia said meekly, shying away from the woman as she continued, “Mama reads English… and French… and I-t’lian! But she only do French and English more. Papa teaches Italian.” 

“Ahh,” Lester nodded. “It must be exciting reading with Mama, eh? How do you like it?” 

“I love Mama! She reads so well,” Tia paused while she thought of something, “but Papa can do Eeyore more. He sound sad! I love Eeyore! But! So-en reads books to me too!” 

The little lad sitting across the two paused from reading and looked up from the page he was reading, wondering why he was called by Tia. Not sensing any cry for help, Soren returned to his book. 

“I hope Adelmo— when he grows— he can listen to me read,” Tia said with her eyes twinkling. “I can teach him F-ench! Like Mama!” 

According to Tilly, Soren and Toto often hover over Tia. They tended to be more protective when it came to Tia—perhaps it’s the effect of being the only girl in the family. Soren loved his sister a lot and would always read her books, trying to raise her as another version of himself.

Toto loved his kids equally, no doubt. His older kids (not with Tilly) were the subjects of his love alongside his little ones, but even they couldn’t deny that Tia was the most loved one. 

But it seemed like Tia, despite being everyone’s favourite, loved her little brother Adelmo more. It never caused any rift between siblings, but Tia tended to be protective of Adelmo more than anyone. 

At least none of them were bitter or arguing over who liked who. They all loved each other equally. It was just an observation that Lester had done. 

“He’ll grow soon enough, Tia,” Lester told the little girl. “But, right now, he has to feel better so when you get home… you can tell him about your trip with Papa.” 

“Hey, hey! Are those the mini Tillys I’m seeing?” The kids’ eyes widened at the voice as they turned and gasped. 

“Zio Danny!” “Oncle Dan!” 

“I have different names in different languages,” Daniel hoisted the two kids up in his arms as he grunted, “You two are becoming more like your dad. So heavy and tall!” 

“Not tall enough,” Soren crossed his arms with a huff, “Papa is tall like a building!” 

“Godzilla!” Tia exclaimed as Soren nodded in agreement.

“Or… Or King Kong!” It was Tia’s turn to nod enthusiastically. 

“Yeah, he’s incredibly tall, indeed,” Daniel turned and walked towards his girlfriend, leaning forward to kiss her on the temple as he asked, “What have you and the little wombats been up to?” 

“Wombats?” Soren slightly shoved himself away from Daniel’s face as he asked, “what is a wombat?” 

“Ahh, I forgot, you haven’t been to Australia yet,” Daniel let out a ‘tsk’ with a shake of his head. “Your Mum and Dad are depriving you of those little adorable creatures! We need to get that fixed. Tell your Mum or Dad to take you there next time.”

Lester chuckled quietly before finally answering, “We have been doing a lot of colouring and reading so far.”

“‘s that right?” 

“Yes,” Lester insisted with a widened pair of eyes, “too much reading if I am being honest.” 

“Oh! Uncle Dan!” Soren placed his hand on top of Daniel’s head, making the Australian look at him with a slight frown. “Guess what? I’m reading Hansel und Gretel!” He shook himself off from Daniel’s hold and grabbed the opened book from the table, raising it as Daniel looked down at the book.

A frown etched on Daniel’s face as he said, “Ren, lad, I can’t understand this.” 

“What do you mean?” Soren asked. Walking up to Lester, Soren raised the same book for her to read. 

At least Daniel and Lester could agree on not being able to read German. At this rate, they’re both thinking that Toto and Tilly were raising intellectuals. The next Jean-Jacques Rousseau and Hypatia of Alexandria, if you would ask either of them. 

“That explains why Uncle Daniel can’t read it,” Lester found herself chuckling, “we both cannot read German language, Soren.” 

“Oh,” the boy murmured, “okay.” 

“But are you loving it so far?” Daniel asked, now sitting next to Lester with Tia perched on his lap. 

“Yes,” Soren nodded eagerly, “I am about to finish the story!” 

“Such a smart boy,” Lester complimented Soren, the little boy’s cheeks turning red at the compliment. Much like Tilly, her children always shy away from the compliments thrown their way. They were the sweetest children that Lester had met. It was probably because her younger siblings and her nephews and niece are just chihuahuas in the form of human beings.

Lester looked up at her beau, “I am more worried that you’re here and you’re not where you’re supposed to be now.” 

“I got here first before any of the people in the grid does,” Daniel told her smugly. “Some of them are just hearing that the kids are here this weekend and it will be an absolute disaster if all of them found the two at once.”

Tia and Soren Wolff were what Lester could call the tactical team of Mercedes. Well… of any team to be fair. Anyone from other teams could get easily distracted by the kids. Jenson at some point had joked about the two working for their father in Mercedes to distract Red Bull’s drivers hours or days before the race. 

At some point Christian had wanted to ban the kids from visiting their motorhome, but why? The kids were toddlers and entering the school-aged stage. They know nothing about tactics and driving besides from “Papa! Look, cars go fast!” But they still had Tilly’s heart and the drivers, if you were to ask anyone on any team, enjoyed being around Tilly. The Wolff kids often lifted the spirits up in the grid. 

The most fortunate driver to spend his time with the children would be Lewis Hamilton. Not only did he drive for Mercedes-AMG but he was Soren’s godfather. He had been Tilly’s best friend first before Toto was Tilly’s partner. Toto had gotten more softer on him once Stevie changed her surname to Hamilton on Valentine's Day. The other two didn’t stand a chance. 

Max Verstappen was certainly trying to be on Toto's good side. It took him a good while to convince Sylvie, his now-girlfriend, that he hadn’t meant to screw her over once— so you could barely imagine convincing Toto that. Not only was he trying to appease the older man, but he had an opportunity to prove that he’s a good uncle to the kids by babysitting them. Perhaps to prove that he would be a good father as well, but it wasn’t the right words to say in front of Toto Wolff, of all people. 

Charles Leclerc was fairly close to becoming a welcome face at some point, if it hadn’t been for the fact that some gossip page decided to take the context out of a private conversation where he said that he wouldn’t have a child with someone who nearly broke him one way or another. He was speaking of an ex-girlfriend who wouldn’t let go. But once that the story had spread out and his girlfriend had gotten a hold of it, she ran straight to Toto. Yeah, no. Still to this day, Toto wasn’t as convinced that Charles’ intention was to remain true. 

But still. Tia and Soren were what the team principals assumed to be Mercedes’ little weapons of distraction. Especially with Max Verstappen? Yeah. Christian Horner definitely did not want the kids near him during the race weekends. But it wasn’t like he could say it upfront. Max was fairly close to marrying Sylvie. Max’s family was practically connected to Toto’s. 

“Who was the first to hear that?” Lester asked her beau with a brow raised. 

“Charles,” Daniel answered with a shit-eating grin, “but he can’t get out of his media duties.”

“Wow, if Ferrari only made time for their strategies instead of putting their drivers in front of a camera for their spare time,” Lester feigned satisfaction as she sighed dramatically, “just imagine the podiums that they could get.”

“A lot!” Soren piped up before his guilty eyes looked up at the adults, “I am sorry, Zia and Zio. Papa and Mama said it is rude to listen to adults talking.”

“No, it’s alright, mi niño pequeño,” Lester smiled sweetly at the boy. “Thank you for apologizing.”

Daniel only shrugged, “But he isn’t wrong.” He and Soren exchanged grins. 

If there’s anything that Lester had learned at the very beginning of her relationship with Daniel, it would be that he would be one to encourage Soren to say something that a smart-ass would say. Tilly told Lester once that Daniel was the devil on her shoulder back when she started in her racing teams in 2014. Like that shoey during the Silverstone 2014. That was all Daniel.

So it wasn’t much of a surprise when Soren nodded at Daniel’s approving look. Soren was smart, indeed, and clearly Daniel’s trying to “corrupt” his brain with mischief and whatever it was he’s concocting at the paddock. 

Maybe this was what they meant when Soren and Tia were Mercedes’ weapons of destruction. And they were both being influenced by a Red Bull driver. Ironic.

[flyingfishtailoutpost1]

I work in a school

A para just came in and handed me a pile of laminated items made out of construction paper, and said, “I need these laminated.”

Me: They…already are laminated?

Her: Yeah, these belong to Ms J. I need them laminated.

Me:

Her:

Me: Do you mean…you want me to scan these, print them out, cut them out, and laminate them, so you can have your own set???

Her: Oh. Yes. I can come back for them in, what, fifteen minutes?

Me: Try an hour?????

We need a collection development plan written for our media center. I’m not supposed to be in charge of it, because I’m just a librarian and not instructional staff.

The literacy coach is supposed to do it. She has no idea how.

They give it to the AP to do. He has no idea how.

I fill out the collection plan. All I need the AP to give me is one paragraph of information. He emails it to me 10 minutes before it’s due. It’s a block of text written in all caps with no punctuation, full of spelling errors.

I’ve been trying to order supplies for a month and a half. The person issuing me the quote keeps having to reissue it. They got the school wrong, then the number of items, then the type of item, then the person it was issued to, then the number of items again.

I have a cartload of books to be shelved. Ask my TAs from the high school to shelve them. Have to keep explaining what “alphabetized” means. There are two stacks of books on the bottom, with post-its that say FOR DISPLAY DON’T SHELVE THESE.

They shelve them, except for the top two books with the notes attached, which they give to me and remind me not to shelve them because they’re for display.

Principal offers me Textbook Coordinator position. The previous one is like, yeah, I can’t train you, I don’t know how it works.

Me: But you did it for a year???

Her: Yeah but I didn’t know what I was doing at all.

So I figure at least organizing the textbook stock so you can move in the storage room without being crushed is a good place to start.

Everyone: You’re a miracle worker!!!

Me: I opened some boxes and put some books on the shelves, my god you guys.

My beloved library volunteer who saves my sanity, trying to encourage a student to try checking out a book: Come on, we have books about AWESOME stuff. I bet EVERYONE can find a book about stuff they like in here.

*turns to his teacher, standing nearby*

Ms V, what do you like to read about?

Teacher *rolling her eyes*: I don’t read.

Us: ….ok.

Student: *walks away*

Also, and I cannot stress this enough:

[187days]

Day Eighty-Four

Did my students (and my colleagues) freak out a bit about my short hair today? Yes. Even students I don't actually teach shouted down the hallway that they really liked my haircut.

That was fun.

Also fun: teaching my APGOV students about campaign finance law. It's fun because it's nerdy and awesome, but also because I show them how to look up contribution information on the FEC website, and then they go look up their parents, their other teachers, they do the zip code search. This year, they also looked up famous people like Taylor Swift and, to my delight (because it was a great segue into making them read the Oyez summary of Citizens United v. FEC), Elon Musk. The same student who looked up Musk asked me to explain how the Court came to the decision it did in Citizens United, but we were nearing the end of the block at the point, and I do love to leave my students in suspense sometimes, so I just cryptically replied, "Railroads."

Said student had to acknowledge that it was a good cliffhanger line even if he's mildly annoyed by it and it makes absolutely no sense to him.

Heh.

It will make sense next class, though. We'll pick up with the case ruling, the precedents that led to it, and its impact.

I ended Global Studies mid-lesson, too, which I sometimes like doing with Friday-Monday lessons because students shake off the weekend quickly if they have to recall what they learned Friday to move forward on Monday. In this case, the recall is information about different political and economic systems. Monday, we'll talk more about what they are, their similarities and differences, and where in the world they can be found.

One of my Global Studies students stayed after today to get help revising a paper, and to make up work for late credit (our schoolwide policy is ten points off per day, up to five days- zero after that- and he had a couple assignments he could still turn in). I half-expected The Principal to come looking for me while I was working with this student- department head stuff- but he didn't, so I guess he'll do it Monday.

[omegaremix]

May 28, 2022.

The opportunity to attend Sacred Bones’ 15th anniversary presented itself pretty quickly. Tickets were released for sale four weeks before the show and I grabbed them right away. I missed out on both Sacred Bones’ 10th shows because of nine months of stay-at-home recovery and now their 15th was a chance to redeem myself.

The build-up was getting heavier as the show drew closer. I had anxiety like never before waiting to attend a New York City show. The 28th came and it started on a dim, greyscale note. Long Island had a string of wet days with Saturday no exception. Rain arrived at the Central Islip station before I had with no telling when it’d stop - if it did. Halfway from my home station to Woodside did the storm subside to nothing.

By the time I transferred from the 7 line to the Q39 bus had the clouds open up to welcome in the blinding basking sun and matching sweltering humidity. The Q39 raced, whipped, and turned wide all throughout Sunnyside and ultimately Maspeth to drop me off in a dense neighborhood of hazy, white 75*F temperatures. I’m in the middle of an unfamiliar yet dense neighborhood. I walk a few blocks into a suspiciously silent area of shackled-up factories, closed warehouses, and shipping centers closed for the weekend; all by myself not knowing or worrying about any rogues waiting in the wings to start trouble. I drew closer to the new activity of open businesses, moving vehicles, and the pedestrians walking through the gauntlet to the Knockdown Center.

Nothing that I could ever imagine would conjure up a would-be dream-state that would become a magical reality.

I was in New York City (Queens) associated with preferably some of the best people in attendance. Surreal dreams I’ve always had now become a reality. The way showgoers sat outside the Knockout Center felt like I was on another college campus. People sitting on the floor silently observing Constant Smiles play as the rays peeked through during sundown. A hypnotized crowd witnessing Anika and Spellling’s mesmerizing performances. A super-colorful closing set by Black Marble, and a sit-down lecture about time - at a music festival? Whether Sacred Bones gamed it themselves or by sheer coincidence, this event had some unusual moments that made for a truly unforgettable experience.

The next day’s opening shift was in the back of my mind; more apparent as midnight approached. Regrettably, I leave the Knockdown Center a little earlier than desired and hitched a ride to Woodmere’s train home and guarantee six hours of sleep. I’m stunned. Bedazzled. My mind is processing the last five hours of what just happened. I’m organizing and interpreting the swirl of feelings, the sights, the colors, the sounds, the crowd, and the happenstance of everything that unfolded as I wait for the rail’s arrival. I take a seat facing direction to the Jamaica stop where I had only one minute to race and take the double-decker train’s upper-lever seat for the rest of the way home.

Spring is over. Summer has officially started.

Offset, The: Spectacles: “Colour”

Smile, The: “You Will…”

Aeges: “Who Are You”

Black Dresses: “Angel Hair”

Iguana Moonlight: “V”

Antonio Sanchez feat. Nine Inch Nails: “I Think We’re Past That Now”

Better Living: “Kid”

Ritualz: “Reintegration”

Feels Fine: “Washed Out Blue”

Doc Hammer: “Commanche”

Kaputt!: “Highlight!”

Grimes: “Shimigami Eyes”

Muslimgauze: “Qom” (edit)

Jade Hairpins: “Mary Magazine”

Totally Unicorn: “Filmed Before A Dead Audience”

Dead When I Found Her: “Dry Bed”

Beauty Pill: “At A Loss”

Savak: No Blues…”

Kaputt!: “Parsonage Square”

JK Flesh: “Urge”

Luca: “Undertow…”

Pink Siifu: “Wayans Brothers”

Alchemist: “Broken Bottles”

Henry Mancini: “Men’s Room Rock”

Principe Valiente: …

Smirk: “Irrelevant Man”

A Number Of Names: “Sharevari”

Daniel Johnston: “In A Lifetime”

100 Proof: Aged In Soul…

Kaputt!: “Accordion”

Kae Tempest: “Salt…”

[theactsoftheapostles]

"The Portable Thesis." From the Acts of the Apostles 13: 24-25.

We continue to discuss the culmination of the House of David with the arrival of Jesus who proposed a value system in which all men could live and breathe without fear of the Crown, the State, or the Pew, and they could operate in legal service to the people and to God without corruption:

24 Before Jesus began his work, John preached to all the people of Israel that they should turn from their sins and be baptized. 

25 And as John was about to finish his mission, he said to the people, ‘Who do you think I am? I am not the one you are waiting for. But listen! He is coming after me, and I am not good enough to take his sandals off his feet.’

Luke, whose Acts of the Apostles contains a diagram of the important principals contained in the Torah and the Gospels refers to John's prophecy about Jesus. This comes after some stark emphasis on the part that is Jewish. How do they fit together within the Line of Israel?

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 24: Before Jesus began His work, John preached: The Number is 6808, סחאֶפֶסח‎, "the Passover."

We need to talk about what is going on. You cannot act helpless and hopeless while unintelligent men pave life on this planet over with graveyards. It is time for Moses and Pharaoh to have their historic discussion once again. You may not permit Vladimir Putin to send those boys into the arms of death, nor permit Donald Trump and the Republican Party to strand the wallets and human rights of his own people with his tomfoolery, especially since I have told you, he does not have the legal right to hold office, and hasn't since January 6. Now why do I feel like a conversation with a turnip would have greater results?

v. 25: John said to the people: The Number is 9754, ט‎זןד‎, tzand, "a portable thesis."

The portable thesis is 1841, יהמה, yahma, "the roar of the sea."

God told the Jewish people they were to look after the rest of the human race. It is not good for man to wander, homeless, unwanted, unneeded, rejected by the rest who are doing better than most.

We have reacted to the immigration crisis with revulsion and criminal acts of legislation, as if every private citizen is about to be attacked by a man in a beard and a skull cap. This is not at all the case. The economics of curing the causes of immigration and repatriating persons who have lost their homes and livelihood has long since been established, but we will not do it.

Inherent in the teachings of the Passover and the Portable Thesis, freedom from Tyranny and the manmade causes of poverty are the settings God expects before Israel can welcome its new King.

The final Gemara is סחאֶפֶסחיהמה‎, sahafazahima‎‎, "What is the phase?"

The phase is the "time domain" in which we live. Times are always going to change, this we know, but how strained should they be? Time must not be a strain on man or estrange him from God.

Lukes hidden message to us in the above Acts explain, if times are strained, something is wrong. We must go back to the Seder for guidance and plan the easiest way to Shabbat before it is too late. The longer we wait, the more complicated the mathematics for implementing the law will become and that is the antithet of observing Shabbat.

He wants to know, "why are you standing there like robots while people who can't read, write, or speak tell you how to dress, schcrew, and live, who are trying to throw you on each other's bayonets? This is not how or why you were made."

The society molded by the Torah states one must do one's duty to community without nepotism or corruption. If one is willing to comply, one is free to do as one sees fit. These two aspects of the Self, the one that belongs to God and to the laws and those that belong to you are found on either side of Day Three, the one we are trying to pass over by studying the Acts. It is not appropriate to interfere with or block the way, which is why Luke mentions the roar of the sea, the moment Moses parted the ocean so the Israelites could cross in his Kabbalah.

[thepitofjob]

Job 12: 7-12. "The Demon."

Job is told he has to work from the ground up, a process called Amidah or "adamant" in Hebrew. To be adamant is to maintain the Shabbos lifelong so that young persons understand its central role to religion and also to the rest of life.

Shabbos is not dinner on Friday night with fattening food and wine. Shabbos is the return on investment in happiness for wise effort. The principals involved in Shabbos are the topic of discussion in the Book of Job. The prophet says Shabbos is the hand of life, the breath of life, a long life. We begin our commitment(s) to this through the Amidah.

7“But ask the animals, and they will teach you,     or the birds in the sky, and they will tell you; 8 or speak to the earth, and it will teach you,     or let the fish in the sea inform you. 9 Which of all these does not know     that the hand of the Lord has done this? 10 In his hand is the life of every creature     and the breath of all mankind. 11 Does not the ear test words     as the tongue tastes food? 12 Is not wisdom found among the aged?     Does not long life bring understanding?

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 7-8: Ask the animals they will teach you. No, the animals will not teach you a thing, but studying the rules of Kosher ettiquette will. Some animal traits are desirable in humans some are not. The Number is 10600, י'‎ם, "The lake, the ocean, the sea."

The Sea in the Torah is the place where man discovers his masculine fully grown body and comes into his own experience. The parting of the Red Sea is the end of all delusion about the essence of the future, but the Mediterranean, difficult to cross, is the mirror of the self in which one wants to admire the man that was once but a domestic animal.

v. 9-10: Which of these does not know? Jewish mystics question how nihilistic towards the world we can get before Ha Shem can be attained. This is why so many Jews try to follow the prescriptions and prohibitions thinking there is a magic moment nigh when all of it will make sense. This is not the best way to do it.

The secret to understanding Judaism is called Mishnah, "fattening" and Gemara, "Thinnning." Every frame or block of text in the Torah and Tanakh is what is called a Mishnah, or a "little bit."

Mishnahs are easy to work with. they are all connected to the rest of the material in the entire Tanakh like the seeds and petals of a massive sunflower are connected to the stalk. Once one understands a single Mishnah, understanding of the rest is not too far away.

There is a process we have covered for turning a Mishnah into a Gemara, a salient point that is helpful to self and society written in plain English. First one studies the Torah properly using the four dimensions. Then one translates, researches, and identifies prior Gemara that explain. One checks in the Kabbalah, one must use Gematria, and finally one must understand what stage of evolution one is encroaching upon and the new Gemara should come.

The Number is 6441, ו‎דדא‎ ‎, and dada, "how to understand understanding." The light and also the darkness behind our eyes are as far as we can go to attempt understanding of the existence of the soul. It is frustrating to say the least, especially when one realizes one must interact with reality in order for existence to accumulate any substance. The Dada, or the grass upon which the mind must graze to do this is found in the Torah and the Tanakh and some of their offshoots like the Bhagavad Gita and Upanishads.

All of these discuss happiness without a price, AKA Shabbos. The questions of do I exist or not and why are dissolved in Shabbos which is learnt through the Mishnah.

"One should not sit in a life of discomfort in order to study the Torah."

v. 10-11:  Does not the ear test words, as the tongue tastes food? Is not wisdom found among the aged? Does not long life bring understanding? The Number is 6243, ובדג‎ ‎ ‎‎"a fish and a demon."

No one wants to be a wise old man, one wants to achieve Ha Shem while one is young and energetic. Still we are in a contest against the development of the mind and the demerits we continue to indulge foolishly because we think it is worth it.

When one is tired of the hassle one will surface and walk on the ground like a man. Otherwise one will tolerate the wages of sin and grow old but not wise, and Shabbos will not take place.

Amidah as we have discussed is a commitment but it is awareness life will not arrive without the Shabbos. Unless one struggles against something one will never have victory over it. This is why the Book of Job argues for what is adamant within Jews.

[tomorrowusa]

Republicans blocked a move in the Senate this week to guarantee the right to birth control in the US. This should tell you something about what a second Trump term would be like for reproductive freedom.

A reminder that Republican nominees to the US Supreme Court lied about upholding Roe v. Wade.

At their Senate confirmation hearings, Supreme Court Justices John Roberts, Samuel Alito, Amy Coney Barrett, Brett Kavanaugh, and Neil Gorsuch all said that Roe v. Wade was a legitimate precedent. Except, whoops, it turns out all these people were lying, at least when testifying to Congress about the common-law principle of stare decisis. Under our system, justices aren’t supposed to throw out precedent without a good reason, but as soon as they had the votes, they threw Roe in the garbage without a second thought. Only Clarence Thomas (who’d refused in his confirmation hearing to answer whether he thought Roe was valid precedent) was even slightly honest about his intentions. This matters because it’s an example of how Republicans smuggle their horrendously unpopular policies past the public. While activists wave gruesome pictures at rallies, harass people at abortion clinics, and occasionally murder doctors, the public faces of the Grand Old Party blithely admonish everyone to “Calm down. Roe v. Wade isn’t going anywhere.” Then, when the courts are sufficiently stacked with partisan hacks, they spring the trap.

Now Republicans are saying contraception is not in danger. Of course that's what they want you to think.

Today, the same thing is happening with contraception. Unhinged conservative fanatics are building up momentum to ban the most common types of contraception, principally by lying that they actually induce abortions somehow, and they are finding success at the state and local level. As Lauren Weber reports at The Washington Post, Republicans in both Missouri and Louisiana recently blocked pro-contraception bills by lying that they cause abortions. A right-wing Idaho think tank is urging the state to ban the morning-after pill and IUDs by claiming, falsely, that they are “abortifacients.” Iowa’s Republican government has already ended subsidies for emergency contraception for victims of sexual assault. And among the victories of the so-called Alliance Defending Freedom (ADF)—the most important right-wing legal group, which has won 15 Supreme Court cases since 2011—is Burwell v. Hobby Lobby, which ended the requirement for employer-based insurance to cover contraception.

Republicans are already looking at a 151 year old zombie law called the Comstock Act as an instrument to end reproductive freedom throughout the US.

The Comstock Act, the long-dead law Trump could use to ban abortion, explained

This is not at all far-fetched. A few months ago the GOP Arizona Supreme Court used an 1864 law to ban almost all abortions in the state.

A vote for Trump or his lickspittles in the GOP is a vote against reproductive freedom – including contraception. The only way to keep Republicans out of office is to vote Democratic.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"DEATH OF SAM BEHAN IN 'HOLE' AT KINGSTON IS DECLARED NATURAL," Toronto Star. May 28, 1934. Page 21 & 23. ---- Heart Attack Fatal to Convict Serving "Life and 7 Years" ---- JURY INVESTIGATES ---- Kingston. May 28. - Spiking persistent rumors regarding the circumstances surrounding the death of Sam Behan, convict, serving "life and seven years," a coroner's jury found that Behan had died from natural causes. The man, who was one of the principal figures in the penitentiary riot of October 17, 1 1932, and who was blamed for the incendiary fire of two weeks ago, died of a heart condition early Saturday while undergoing extra punishment in what is popularly known as "the hole."

After deliberating for only fifteen minutes, the jury brought in this verdict: "We find that Sam Behan came to his death from natural causes, namely coronary thrombosis, a condition which it is not possible to detect previously, and that nothing further could have been done to save his life."

"A very sensible decision," was the comment made by Dr. S. J. Keyes, coroner.

The jury, at their own request. were allowed to penetrate the heart of the "big house" and to descend into the punishment block and see the conditions under which Behan had lived and died. Prison officials allowed The Star to accompany the party. No sooner had the huge portals of the north gate swung open on the prison yard and had the investigating party come into view of the main cell dome, where hundreds of convicts were incarcerated, than the inmates broke out into shouting. screeching and yelling.

Concrete-Lined Cell Behan's punishment cell proved to be a concrete-lined room about five feet wide, eight feet deep and seven The cell deep feet high. was spotlessly clean and a window in the wall directly in front of the barred door admitted sunlight and clear air. The tomb had a wooden platform, about three inches high, which served as a bed. A mattress, several blankets, sanitary pall, a tin mug of disinfectant and a few sheets of paper mere the other furnishings.

Behan's cell was one of five on the southern arm of the the V-shaped V punishment corridors. There were no other inmates in neighboring cells but in the northern arm three men were "doing extra punishment." The two arms converge at the foot of winding stairs leading to the Keeper's hall and are closed off from each other by heavy steel gates. Through the bars, The Star could see one of the convicts in solitary confinement leaning up on the bars of his cell door. He did not make a sound.

Dr. W. D. Hay, assistant professor of pathology at Queen's University, who has no official connection with the the jury that he found Behan well-developed and well-nourished. "There were no recent marks on his body whatsoever," he said. "There were old scars on his cheek, chin and knees, but not a fresh cut on his whole body," he said.

"Would you on was any treatment that could have been given this man?" asked the coroner. "Nothing at all could have been done for him," was the instant reply.

"Could his death have been anticipated by himself or officials?" "I think not."

Stricken Suddenly Keeper W. C. Robinson, who was on duty when Behan died, told the Jury he had chatted with the deceased shortly before his demise and the convict had appeared in good health then.

"At 6:30 am. I made the rounds of the punishment cells according to routine," Robinson said. "Behan said, 'Good morning, keeper." when I passed by his cell. I said, Good morning and then I added, It is a little warm this morning. His reply was, It is, sir. He was lying down at the time.

Behan was at death's door when Dr. G. Platt arrived on the scene.

"I felt his pulse and asked him: "What was the matter," said the Prison doctor. "There wasn't any pulse and Behan made no reply. There was no reflex in his eyes and no heart action. He breathed twice and that was the last."

A story that has gained some credence in Kingston is that Behan was one of Al Capone's henchmen when the Chicago public enemy No. 1 was at the height of his power. Behan is to have fallen out it with Capone's gang. The scar on his chin, identical to that borne by Capone, was said to have been placed there by one of the Chicago guerillas. Because of his difference with the American, Behan was said to be "on the spot" and fled to Canada in 1930 fearing death if he remained on United States soil any longer.

A prison official told The Star that there was another fire at the penitentiary last Thursday night.

The convicts set the fire in the kitchen range," he said. "The flames came within an ace of getting into the chapel before they were checked. If the chapel had taken fire they would have had have had to let the men out of their cells, and then there would have been hell to pay. That is just what the men wanted. The affair was hushed up."

[thenewdeadseascrolls]

Judges 9: 50-57. "The Epistasis."

So Abimelek studied the Torah and memorized its principals and attacked the people who listened to each other instead of studying their faith on their own. He won a major victory, accrued some real self-esteem and moved on. The conclusion to Chapter 9 of the Shoftim starts with his next conquest: Thebez.

Thebez means "shame on you". The attack is not successful: The people see him coming and are not about to allow him to shame them, so they prepare and retaliate. He dies, killed by a woman who throws a stumbling block at him and cracks his head open.

The Rab says the story means there were too few real Jews attending the Shule to deal with a king who was up and coming. The rest were too young and the elders were too skeptical to learn anything new. The use of the upper millstone, the advice of a real Rabbi, is used to put an end to this man's pride and settle the town down.

Abimelek admits he was precocious and thus ends the King of Polish. The Rab says Abimelek murdered the 70 Clans of Israel by being a poor example. He also says the shule was too heavy handed. Recall, for every Jew out there there is one better and also one worse. The goal is not to stand out. Standing out is a risk.

50 Next Abimelek went to Thebez and besieged it and captured it. 

51 Inside the city, however, was a strong tower, to which all the men and women—all the people of the city—had fled. They had locked themselves in and climbed up on the tower roof. 

52 Abimelek went to the tower and attacked it. But as he approached the entrance to the tower to set it on fire, 53 a woman dropped an upper millstone on his head and cracked his skull.

54 Hurriedly he called to his armor-bearer, “Draw your sword and kill me, so that they can’t say, ‘A woman killed him.’” So his servant ran him through, and he died. 

55 When the Israelites saw that Abimelek was dead, they went home.

56 Thus God repaid the wickedness that Abimelek had done to his father by murdering his seventy brothers. 

57 God also made the people of Shechem pay for all their wickedness. The curse of Jotham son of Jerub-Baal came on them.

The story ends stating everyone paid a price for failing to do things right. It should not be possible for the Jewish community to produce one Jew that is more polished than the rest.

Some are more learned than the rest, but in practice, one should behave as fully aligned with one's understanding of the Torah and Tanakh, no more and no less.

The final comment about the curse of Jotham, AKA Gotham the Angel News Service and Jerub Baal, "one's husband's socks", "to be owned by one's husband", is a prescription for proper courtship and marriage. Good Jews are not allowed to stand out or stand alone, they are always owned by at least one other.

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 50:  Next Abimelek went to Thebez and besieged it and captured it. The Value in Gematria is 3230, גב‎‎ג‎אֶפֶס, gbgaps, "gypsum plaster", when a free person makes plaster while the rest are holed up, it is a violation of Shabbos and this is why Abimelek's second siege failed. Attempts to tell others what to do, even if you are the king is forbidden on Shabbos:

v. 51: They had locked themselves in and climbed up on the tower roof= they were observing the Sabbath. The Value in Gematria is 12097, יב‎ אֶפֶסטז‎ , 12 Epistez, "epistasis of the 12."

Epistasis is the interaction of genes that are not alleles, in particular the suppression of the effect of one such gene by another. The objective of a Jew is to suppress the not-self and overwrite it with the wholly Jewish Self who is explained in the Torah and the Tanakh.

One must cross pollinate with other Jews who understand what this means if this is to be successful. Standing out or standing outside is not enough.

v. 52-53:  Abimelek went to the tower and attacked it. But as he approached the entrance to the tower to set it on fire, 53 a woman dropped an upper millstone on his head and cracked his skull.

The Value in Gematria is 8918, חט‎אח‎, "a sin." "Something you do that you know you should not."

Which one was it this time?

There are strong implications Abimelek was sleeping around quite a lot. If he got locked out of the tower where everyone else was gathered on the roof, chances are likely he was out with the guys instead of celebrating Shabbat, and his mother in law dropped a rock on his head from on high for it.

v. 54-55: When the Israelites saw that Abimelek was dead, they went home. The Value in Gematria is 11806, יאחאֶפֶסו‎, = "they will arrest him."

v. 56-57: Thus God repaid the wickedness that Abimelek had done to his father by murdering his seventy brothers. God also made the people of Shechem pay for all their wickedness. The curse of Jotham son of Jerub-Baal came on them.

The Value in Gematria is 9814, טחאא, tahaa...

ta= the cell

ha=it

a= learned

=

The gene transplant was successful.