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bilbobagginshome · 2 years ago

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A Deadbeat’s Journal 22

A Jotaro Kujo x Blackfemreader story

Third-Person Narration.

When y/n broke the news down to her mother, there was an eerie silence that took over. It was as though a jinn had just passed by. Granny Rhoda looked at her daughter, her face an odd mixture between an agape mouth and pleading eyes. Y/n, despite her fidgeting feet, remained stiff, looking straight at her mother well aware that any sign of wavering could lead to her rethinking her already well-thought-out decision.

“Do you need my blessing ?” Faith monotonously questions after sipping her afternoon tea.

“Please, Mom.” Y/n unflinchingly replied.

“You have my blessing. Do you need my help with anything? My connections aren't as good but at least I can make the visa process less daunting.”

“Faith, you can’t be serious. This isn’t her asking to have more independence. This is her moving away from home for a year. She’s still a child, the breasts and degree should not fool you .” Grandma Rhoda responds with a mix of their mother tongue and English in quick-fire, brows etched so tightly they look like they’ll turn to a unibrow and fly away from her face.

“Mama, this is my child. I’m begging you, don't tell me what to do. If this is her decision then why should I refute it? Moreover the last time I took your advice I never saw my only child for almost a month. Life is for the living, let her choose her life decisions.” She responds calmly.

“Y/n why are you doing this to us? Do you need a holiday? I’ll pay. But a whole year away is crazy to think of. Your dad would have never approved you know .” Granny pleads.

“Mom really?” Faith irritatedly remarks while shaking her head.

“I barely knew the man, listen, mama, I know you are scared for me, but cocooning me to the same place will not aid in my recovery. Can’t you see I’ve become less selfish, I’ve made more friends? Seen new perspectives in life and I’m enjoying my life for once? I mean even Jotaro and I get along so well now when a few months ago, aside from the time we spend with Mom Holly, and Grandpa Joseph we would have barely acknowledged one another. And this all happened because I began to live with him .” I blurt out. Another silence stretches. Granny seems defeated, Faith looks more interested in eating the rest of her chocolate cake whilst looking into the backyard.

And it is too beautiful of a backyard to argue in. One look and you’d understand that y/n lived in a lap of luxury. The shimmering, freeform, blue pool sat at the centre of the backyard and it was adorned with rose bushes well tended. A stony footpath led to the elevated back porch of the house and long palm trees surrounded the fenced area. A paradise on earth. It's honestly a surprise why the retired brat insisted on moving out.

“OK, baby, I’m sorry. I understand your aims and I should be more accepting .”Granny resigns and drinks up her now lukewarm tea which she immediately gives way to be warmed.

“Thank you. And mom, the visa is already taken care of. Patience’s dad knows a guy.”Y/n warmly replies.

This kicks off another conversation related to moving and although Granny frown sits at the mention of housing plans, she says nothing. The conversations move as gently as the winds of the day and as the pool lights are switched on and despite insistence from her parents that she should stay for dinner, she refuses and they all escort her to the parking lot.

“Visit me more now that you are leaving okay? and leave Samosa here or at least tell Jotaro to bring her more often.”Faith softly says.

“Sure Mom.”

“I love you .”

“I love you too. Bye.”

* * *

Y/n walks home to find Jotaro removing his promised dinner.

“Just in time. Lasagna and salad for my favourite girl.”He joyfully says

“I didn’t think you’d make it after all that first about how good lasagna is tedious to make.” Y/n teases as she pets Samosa in greeting.

“Well, I decided to so there’s that. And I purchased some good non-alcoholic drinks.” He says whilst gesturing to the cans of mocktails on the dining table.

“And it's my favourite brand too. What’s the special occasion? You are treating me extra tenderly today .” She queries in a suspecting tone.

“Just let's sit and eat, I’ll tell you about it after dinner .”

Y/n washes up and takes a sit at her designated spot and after a bite, her eyes roll back in utter ecstasy.

“Jesus, this is so good! Thank God I didn’t eat at Mom’s honestly. I don’t know if I can control myself or become Garfield.”She moans out. Jotaro smiles sheepishly in response and says.

“Eat to your fill.”

This cues an attempt of y/n almost shoving the food down her throat and fortunately, after four pieces she taps out, a noticeable bulge at her stomach as she finally leans back from her chair.

“That was wonderful.” She burps out and apologises confidently for her disregard for table manners.

“I’ve never seen anything like that and I was around a group of boys for a majority of my college years .” Jotaro laughs out half in shock at the speed she ate the dish and half amazed.

“This is why greed is considered a sin,” Y/n responds whilst picking her teeth with a toothpick.

After feeling less full, she helps Jotaro with the dishes which doesn’t take long for Jotaro is a very efficient cook and they head to the sitting room with their cans.

“I got a yacht.” Jotaro says after they settle down.

“Congrats, when will it be unveiled to me?”

“Soon, I’d like to change up a few things for it to be conducive for safe travel.”

“And you are still fidgeting so what gives, what’s the other news?”

Jotaro suddenly kneels and calls Samosa out. She leisurely walks to the sitting room her collar braced with a blue velvet ring box that has y/n throat tightening and her stomach doing so many backflips she thought she’d vomit out the nicely made meal. He removes the ring box from her neck and softly says as he opens the box

“I’d like a tangible assurance of our love for one another. A gentle promise that we’ll make it work. Now that our paths are splitting once more, I hope that you remember me and I’ll come back to you .”

He reveals two simple gold-plated rings. One’s middle holds a starfish, framed in gold and littered with tiny diamonds and pink gems whereas the other is framed as two koi fish in a circle , this time littered with tiny blue gemstones and diamonds.

She takes the ring box from him and says,

“I thought you were going to propose, I would have run away .” she softly responds

“Don’t tempt me.” He then adds.

“Can I help you wear it?” Y/n nods as he takes the starfish from the box and before he places it in the middle she refutes it and instead places it on the index.

“Granny Rhoda always says to never wear your rings on your middle finger unless married. It brings bad luck,” she says after he rises up.

“Didn’t know you were superstitious.” He jokingly says as he sits next to her.

“I’m not, just not taking any chances. Can I help you wear your ring?” She questions softly with a slight smile.

“No problem.” He tenderly replies. After doing so, Jotaro links their fingers and moves her to him , stealing a kiss.

“Jojo you are so cliche.” She says after they split.

“What can I say, I love classics.”

* * *

“But Jojo, what about pirates, and hurricanes, or just heavy storms, did you think this through ?” Holly’s worries air out on speaker as Jotaro prepares breakfast.

“Mom, the African coastal straits are the most peaceful in the world. Plus there are measures to take during such dire conditions. You’re acting as if I plan on starting a pirate crew and I’m attempting to find the one piece.”Jotaro said as he plates y/n’s an over-easy egg.

“I don’t even know what that means but it seems dangerous. Anyway, you seem already made up so I don’t think you care about my concerns.”Holly sadly responds.

“Of course, I care that you’d know, that’s the whole reason why I informed you.” Jotaro sighs as he mixes his eggs to make his takoyaki omelette.

“Ok, Ok don’t get cranky my dear, Just always keep calling me. I stay worried you know?” Holly says. Suddenly a deep voice that sounds all too similar to Jotaro’s sounds out to say.

“Yes please take care. Mom is always worrying about you.”

“Ok, Dad. I have to go, love you.” He says as he slowly begins to flip his omelette to its desired layers.

“Love you too dear.” Holly lovingly calls out.

“Take care. Love you too.” Sadao responds with the most blase tone Jotaro has ever heard.

Jotaro cancels the call and is in a happier mood as his omelette turns out perfect. Then he hears the slow dragging of feet to the sitting room and beholds at the most frazzled form he has ever seen y/n.

“Why do you look like you just have come out from a tornado’s eye.” he jokingly asks though the tone takes the form of his mom’s earlier.

“I have cramps. I feel like I’m getting stabbed multiple times in my uterus and giving birth at the same time.”Y/n croaks out as she slumps herself on the kitchen island

“Yikes. Are they usually this bad? And do you have any painkillers I can get for you?”Jotaro inquires with a frown etched across his face.

“Sometimes though it's been a while, I have taken some ibuprofen, just waiting for it to kick in,” Y/n responds, she puts her head up to look at him through her chest remains atop the kitchen counter and adds.

“Stop making that face, you look like a grumpy cat .” then softly laughs, as though laughing too loud would increase the pain.

“You still have energy to make jokes huh? Well attempt to have breakfast, then we’ll see what we can do.” Jotaro says as he pushes her plate of buttered toasted bread and eggs to her side.

He then prepares their mugs, reheats the tea to make it extra hot and fills up their cups. They have a quiet breakfast. Samosa, who already bullied Jotaro for an early breakfast is out and only the sounds of Jotaro’s favourite tunes make the silence more comfortable.

“Let’s stay in my room, you’ll be nice and comfy there and I’ll be able to take care of you .”

“Okay.” Y/n mumbles and heads to his room as Jotaro finishes cleaning the dishes

He finds her already dozing off and rather than disturb her any further only scoots her enough to cuddle her more comfortably.

The day passes on quietly. Y/n is consistently woken up to take her meds and eat a snack then sleep and after spending the whole day either cuddling up with her or responding to emails praising his work as Jotaro released his research paper only a week earlier, they have a slow and steady day.

Samosa at one point joins them though after accidentally being shoved one too many times, she resorts to staying on her bed and lulling to sleep.

Jotaro wakes up earlier to make bone marrow soup and rice, something he noticed that helped him during his two days of being sick. He then softly shakes her awake to eat dinner and she surprisingly eats well, even asking for seconds which he gladly obliges.

“Bone marrow soup really is the cure to every illness,” Y/n says as she gulps down her second bowl and takes it to the sink.

“I’m glad you liked it. I hoped it wouldn’t be that bad considering it doesn’t taste exactly the same as the one you made for me.”Jotaro sheepishly replies whilst washing the dishes.

“It was more flavourful actually without being too overbearing for my tummy. Now, what's for dessert? I hope it has so much sugar.” Y/n excitedly says as Jotaro heads to the kitchen to plate their after-dinner snack.

He opens the container filled with double biscuits from her favourite bakery and she cries out in delight.

“You had these delivered? Aw, thank you! I’ve been craving them all day.” she says before separating the layered biscuits and biting on one

“I know, you mumbled them mid-dream.” He calmly replies which almost makes y/n bash his head to the dining table but instead gives him the stink eye and bites once more at the already half-eaten biscuit.

“Can’t you just say welcome rather than embarrassing me?”

“No, where would the fun be in that? And are you getting better ? “ He asks the last part in a more serious tone which she nods at

“Yeah, I’m not that disturbed, don't worry. By tomorrow, I’ll be chilling just will take some things slower than usual. And thank you for helping me, most people, even women don’t care as much when it comes to my cramps. I appreciate it” She smiles as she says it, crumbs still stuck around her mouth as she finishes her dessert.

“I will always be here for you. Never doubt that.” He responds as he softly wipes off the crumbs from her face.

* * *

Y/n walks into Jotaro’s balcony to find him lightly snoring mid-read. His chest softly inhales and exhales and the book atop it seems to be already halfway done.

With a slight smirk on her face, she slowly yet quickly moves back only to tiptoe back with a lit portion of an old newspaper. She slowly waves it across his face, careful enough to not burn him but close enough for him to smell the smoke and a slow twitching of his nose confirms his return to the conscious world as he slowly opens his eyes, she says

“Jojo, the house is on fire.”

This causes him to stand up straight, adrenaline to the max as he frantically looks at the unburned house in confusion and concern. After getting his grip on the prank, he scowls at a beaming y/n who laughs at his face.

“Great Buddha aren’t you a handful.” He groans whilst rubbing his face awake.

“You are so gullible.” She replies with a smirk

“And you cannot live in peace.” He mumbles while slumping down in his chair.

“Aw, don’t be mad, It was just a teeny joke.” She replies while sitting on his lap, arms placed around his neck.

“Give me a kiss and maybe I won’t be so mad.” He pulls her closer as he says so and before y/n is drawn even nearer him she pulls back and says.

“No, I’ll forget what I was coming to tell you. Tonight, the team planned a farewell party for me and I thought you could be my plus one as my unofficial official boyfriend.” She says while looking straight at him.

“What is ‘unofficial-official’ about our current relationship, We make out almost all the time and you have a promise ring from me.” Jotaro bluntly states

“Don’t be so vulgar. And besides, you never asked me to be your girlfriend.” she refutes.

“The promise ring is quite a huge sign.” He responds, the tone never shifting though gazing fondly at their intertwined hands between them

“I just want to be asked.” She silently mumbles while looking at the beach. now that it's approaching May, it seems less congested than it usually is and thus the white sands of the beach seem more exposed to the daylight.

“OK,” He says, his right hand repositioning her jaw to his face.

“Would you be my girlfriend mpenzi wangu?” (My love)

For the nth time y/n thanked God that her complexion does not accept un-melanated behaviours like blushing for he would gloat if he could see how quickly her cheeks rushed with blood at the affectionate Swahili term.

She instead says, “Yes mpenzie (My love), and don’t think you did something by saying that. I know you just want to show how your Swahili has improved.”

And before he could defend himself, she hops off his lap with claims that she should get ready and he only smiles in amusement.

After her shower, Y/n chooses a creamy milkmaid summer dress with a corseted heart shape top and sheer long sleeves. And despite how she’d love to wear heels, the beach wouldn’t allow it so she chooses her equally creamy slip-on with a simple design. She decides on getting her faux fur jacket to warm her during the night and wears her small pink gemstones on her ears and the matching tiny necklace with the gold chain and decides on a charm bracelet that her granny gave her a while back

She walks out to already find Jotaro in a loose-fitting polo shirt and loose-washed denim jeans with his white air forces. Surprisingly, he is hatless and his curls seem even bouncier than normal. And as accessories, he sports his favourite Bulgari watch and a mid-size Cuban chain link

“Damn, you really are showing out.” She says as she looks approvingly at his fit.

“Same to you, give me a spin.” He says as he leans back and Y/n twirls.

“Beautiful, though isn't the dress a bit too-”

“We’ll be running late, let's go” She cuts off by giving him his keys and locking up the house. Samosa remains unamused even as they close the door outside while promising to come back soon.

After a surprisingly short drive filled with y/n constantly changing songs midway and Jotaro being mildly irritated by it, they arrive at the soon-to-be-opened “Starfish Hotel”. The entire building seems empty though on looking ahead bright light illuminates the beach area where the tents have been propped up

As they approach the area, they notice that most people had already arrived.

“Ah, there she is, the guest of honour .” Kate acknowledges as she hugs y/n tightly.

“Wow, y’all went all out .” She says as he looks at the decor.

“Well, It also acts as a welcome to the hospitality staff and a celebratory dinner for the management.” She says unabashedly.

“Killing three birds with one stone.Typical Kenyan behaviour. Anyway, this is my boyfriend Jotaro, Jotaro this is Kate one of my besties here alongside Mary who should be around here.” Y/n introduces as Jotaro shakes his hand with a small ‘pleasure’ and Kate reciprocates the firm enough handshake.

“Oh, Y/n is that you? “ And y/n frowns as she hears the mind-numbing auto of the man casually approaching her while predatorily looking at her.

“Kamau. You’re here?” Y/n questions in a pitchy tone whilst side-eyeing Kate who immediately looks away. As he attempts to raise his hands to a hug she deftly forces a handshake.

“We’ll miss having you here, no one is quite a looker like you .” He continues to babble and she makes a face like someone is grating metal directly close to her ears. Jotaro firmly holds her waist and moves beside him before saying.

“Hey. I’m Jotaro, Y/n’s boyfriend.” He lowly says while glaring at him. Stunned, Kamau looks up at him and mumbly replies ‘Pleasure’ before quickly making an excuse to exit the thick atmosphere. When he leaves, he questions

“Is that jerk the same Kamau who’s been harassing you at work.”

“Yep, and Kate, you promised not to invite him. What happened.?” Y/n tone laced with betrayal faces a guilty-looking Kate

“He was placed on the organising committee and is good friends with the supervisor. Couldn’t say no.” Kate sheepishly replied.

“Well at least you tried, but you seriously did a good job so I can’t complain. Let’s have the buffet ok.” Y/n reassuringly responds and rubs Kate’s arms.

The buffet has a large variety of food. From ribs and baked honey-coated wings to buttered naan and garlic fried rice. And a large assortment of sweets which y/n almost squeals at in delight. According to Mary, who eagerly greets y/n and Jotaro, the chefs are testing out new recipes before the big opening.

As they munch and y/n continues to greet those who come her way with cheerly delight, Jotaro looks on lovingly. He had never seen her at her social element and assumed as much as she was just as much of a homebody as he is, she was just as socially reserved as him but it didn’t seem that way as she eagerly referred to him as ‘Her handsome boyfriend’. The way she would make men who obviously looked onto her with intrigue known well to men, be reminded of his presence and the seriousness of their new relationship. The way that after dinner, despite being a bit too full she danced leisurely with her girlfriends. It was wonderful to see her at her social peak and when the night would become a bit too long, and the partying a tad too annoying, she’d call on him. For now, he was contented to watch her in the distance.

After a few words from the mc who wanted to acknowledge the reason for the festivities, they went back to dancing and y/n, noticing Jotaro was seated, nods at him to dance with her which he declines and she shrugs her shoulders in acceptance as she continues to play whatever party games she’s been shoved into.

“Damn, your girl sure is a beauty.” Mark, one of y/n’s old colleagues with who she is unfamiliar, says as he sits next to Jotaro.

“I know.” He bluntly responds.

“Yeah. Though she is kind of a snob. For a woman, she should have less attitude if she wants to keep a man.” Kamau unnecessarily adds as he sits across Mark.

Jotaro simply grips his cup a tad tighter than normal yet says nothing.

“Really, she seems sweet though, gave me half of her tiramisu when she noticed I didn’t get any.” Mark muses out, his tone seemingly taken by the kind gesture.

“She must have been flirting. And next to Jotaro. Females really are shameless.”

The contents of Jotaro’s cup spill due to how tightly he grips it and at one look at Kamau, he brutishly says in a low tone whilst looking at a wide-eyed Kamau

“Out of respect for my girlfriend’s former colleagues, I kept quiet. But I will not tolerate you hurling insults at her. And she told me all about you. How she could notice that you wanted her. And it took me all the force necessary to not deal with you sooner. So if you don’t want to be pummeled, keep her name out of your fucking mouth.”

And then he walked away from a stunned Mark and a quivering Kamau to her who, unaware, was currently failing at a limbo game. She camly accepts defeat when she notices Jotaro near her and says

“Why are your frown lines showing ?” She smoothens out his forehead which causes him to relax.”

“Nothing my love.” He softly responds, removing her hand from his forehead and giving each one a kiss.

“Stop that, we’re in public.” Y/n shyly says as she removes her hands from his

This time though, Jotaro joins her in playing some games and after a few wins in his belt all under y/n’s name as she claimed he’s ‘Good at everything’ and couldn’t prove her wrong simply because of pride they head home, happy that they actually went to the event.

* * *

Despite the ignorance played around the Kujo-L/n household, the day came for y/n to take flight. She felt the jitters and anxiety from uprooting her life to someplace new even though it was for a short while. She contemplated cancelling the thing but after Patience went to excruciatingly long details on how difficult it was to get her the visa in a successful attempt to make her feel guilty, she bit down her fears. And yet, the day still arrived.

At the Mombasa SGR terminus, where she would head to the JKIA in Nairobi she looked over the large floor-to-ceiling window which displayed the outskirts of her beautiful city. She had already bid her mom and grandma a tearful one as this was the first time in a long time she had seen her dear mom’s eyes well up. Samosa, who was dropped off with all her toys and remaining food at her place simply let y/n pet her a little more than usual and there was a glint of something when she looked back at her for the last time in a while.

‘First Class boarders, please prepare your luggage as the gates open.’

Patience and Abdul decide that this is the perfect time to rush to the washrooms and Y/n, slightly annoyed remains seated with Jotaro.

“I’ll miss you, my love.” Jotaro sorrowfully says as he hugs her tightly.

“I’ll miss you more. Nakupenda.” Y/n hoarsely replies, attempting to not let her waterly eyes burst into tears.

And they shared one last kiss even as the last warning for the trains blares out. And as her friends rushedly tell ‘Mr Lover Boy’ to let her go, she releases from their tight hug first and before she enters the train, she notices he mouths something to her in a watery smile.

When they are finally sat and the train begins to move away from Mombasa, as her two menaces attempt to lift her mood by teasing about her little white boy, she realises with a smile that he had mouthed out the phrase,

‘Nakupenda pia.’

( I love you too)

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dailytafsirofquran · 3 months ago

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Tafsir Ibn Kathir: Surah Al-Isra Ayah 90-93

In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful.

17:90 And they say: "We shall not believe in you, until you cause a spring to gush forth from the earth for us;''

17:91 "Or you have a garden of date palms and grapes, and cause rivers to gush forth in their midst abundantly;''

17:92 "Or you cause the heaven to fall upon us in pieces, as you have pretended, or you bring Allah and the angels before (us) face to face;''

17:93 "Or you have a house of Zukhruf, or you ascend up into the sky, and even then we will put no faith in your ascension until you bring down for us a Book that we would read.''

Say: "Glorified be my Lord! Am I anything but a man, sent as a Messenger!''

The Demand of Quraysh for a specific Sign, and the Rejection of that

Allah tells:

And they say: "We shall not believe in you, until you cause a spring to gush forth from the earth for us; Or you have a garden of date palms and grapes, and cause rivers to gush forth in their midst abundantly;''

Ibn Jarir recorded from Muhammad bin Ishaq, "An old man from among the people of Egypt who came to us forty-odd years ago told me, from Ikrimah, from Ibn Abbas, that;

- Utbah and Shaybah -- the two sons of Rabi'ah, - Abu Sufyan bin Harb,

- a man from Bani Abd Ad-Dar,

- Abu Al-Bakhtari -- the brother of Bani Asad,

- Al-Aswad bin Al-Muttalib bin Asad, - Zam`ah bin Al-Aswad,

- Al-Walid bin Al-Mughirah,

- Abu Jahl bin Hisham,

- Abdullah bin Abi Umayyah, - Umayyah bin Khalaf,

- Al-`As bin Wa'il, and

- Nabih and Munabbih - the two sons of Al-Hajjaj As- Sahmin,

gathered all of them or some of them behind the Ka`bah after sunset.

Some of them said to others, `Send for Muhammad and talk with him and argue with him, so that nobody will think we are to blame.'

So they sent for him saying, `The nobles of your people have gathered for you to speak to them.'

So the Messenger of Allah came quickly, thinking that maybe they were going to change their minds, for he was very keen that they should be guided, and it upset him to see their stubbornness. So he came and sat with them, and they said,

`O Muhammad, we have sent for you so that nobody will think we are to blame. By Allah we do not know any man among the Arabs who has brought to his people what you have brought to your people. You have slandered our forefathers, criticized our religion, insulted our reason, slandered our gods and caused division. There is no objectionable thing that you have not brought between us. If you are preaching these things because you want wealth, we will collect some of our wealth together for you and make you the wealthiest man among us. If you are looking for position, we will make you our leader. If you are looking for kingship, we will make you our king. If what has come to you is a type of Jinn that has possessed you, then we can spend our money looking for the medicine that will rid you of it so that no one will think we are to blame.'

The Messenger of Allah said:

My case is not as you say. I have not brought what I have brought to you because I want your wealth or to be your leader or king. But Allah has sent me to you as a Messenger and has revealed to me a Book and has commanded me to bring you good news and a warning.

So, I have conveyed to you the Messages of my Lord and have advised you accordingly. If you accept what I have brought to you, then this is your good fortune in this world and the Hereafter, but if you reject it, I shall wait patiently for the command of Allah until Allah judges between me and you. or words to that effect.

They said,

`O Muhammad, if you do not accept what we have offered you, then you know that there is no other people whose country is smaller, whose wealth is less and whose life is harder than ours, so ask your Lord Who has sent you with what He has sent you, to move away these mountains for us that are constricting us, to make our land wider and cause rivers to gush forth in it like the rivers of Syria and Iraq, and to resurrect for us those of our forefathers who have passed away.

Let there be among those whom He resurrects Qusayy bin Kilab, for he was a truthful old man, and we will ask them whether what you are saying is true or false. If you do what we are asking, and they (the people who are resurrected) say that you are telling the truth, then we will believe you and acknowledge your status with Allah and believe that He has sent you as a Messenger as you say.'

The Messenger of Allah said to them:

I was not sent for this purpose. I have brought to you from Allah that with which He has sent me, and I have conveyed to you the Message with which I was sent to you. If you accept what I have brought to you, then this is your good fortune in this world and the Hereafter, but if you reject it, I shall wait patiently for the command of Allah until Allah judges between me and you.

They said,

`If you will not do this for us, then at least do something for yourself. Ask your Lord to send an angel to confirm that what you are saying is the truth and to speak up on your behalf. Ask Him to give you gardens and treasures and palaces of gold and silver, and to make you independent so that you will not have to do what we see you doing, for you stand in the marketplaces seeking provision just as we do. Then we will know the virtue of your position with your Lord and whether you are a Messenger as you claim.'

The Messenger of Allah said to them:

I will not do that, and I will not ask my Lord for this. I was not sent to you for this reason. But Allah has sent me to you to bring you good news and a warning. If you accept what I have brought to you, then this is your good fortune in this world and the Hereafter, but if you reject it, I shall wait patiently for the command of Allah until Allah judges between me and you.

They said,

`Then cause the sky to fall upon us, as you claim that if your Lord wills, He can do that. We will not believe in you until you do this.'

The Messenger of Allah said to them:

That is for Allah to decide. If He wills, He will do that to you.

They said,

`O Muhammad, did your Lord not know that we would sit with you and ask you what we have asked and make the requests that we have made He should have told you beforehand and taught you how to reply to us, and informed you what He would do to us if we do not accept what you have brought to us.

We have heard that the one who is teaching you this, is a man in Al-Yamamah called Ar-Rahman. By Allah, we will never believe in Ar-Rahman. We are warning you, O Muhammad, that we will not let you do what you want to do until you or we are destroyed.'

One of them said,

`We worship the angels who are the daughters of Allah.'

Another said,

`We will never believe in you until you bring Allah and the angels before (us) face to face.'

When they said this, the Messenger of Allah got up and left them.

Abdullah bin Abi Umayyah bin Al-Mughirah bin Abdullah bin Umar bin Makhzum, the son of his paternal aunt Atikah, the daughter of Abdul-Muttalib, also got up and followed him. He said to him,

`O Muhammad, your people have offered you what they have offered you, and you did not accept it. Then they asked for things for themselves so that they would know your position with Allah, and you did not do that for them. Then they asked you to hasten on the punishments with which you are scaring them. By Allah, I will never believe in you unless you take a ladder to heaven and ascend it while I am watching, then you bring with you an open book and four angels to testify that you are as you say. By Allah, even if you did that, I think that I would not believe you.'

Then he turned away from the Messenger of Allah, and the Messenger of Allah went home to his family, grieving over having missed out on what he had hoped for when his people had called him, because he saw that they were resisting him even more.''

The Reason why the Idolators' Demands were refused

In the case of this gathering where the Quraysh came together to speak with the Messenger of Allah, if Allah knew that they were making these requests in order to be guided, they would have been granted, but He knew that they were making these demands out of disbelief and stubbornness.

It was said to the Messenger of Allah,

"If you wish, We will give them what they are asking, but if they then disbelieve, I will punish them with a punishment that I have never imposed upon anyone else in the universe; or if you wish, I will open for them the gate of repentance and mercy.''

He said:

Rather, You open for them the gate of repentance and mercy.

This is like the Ayah:

And nothing stops Us from sending the Ayat but that the people of old denied them. And We sent the she-camel to Thamud as a clear sign, but they did her wrong. And We sent not the signs except to warn, and to make them afraid (of destruction). (Ayah 59)

And Allah says:

And they say: "Why does this Messenger eat food, and walk about in the markets (as we). Why is not an angel sent down to him to be a warner with him Or (why) has not a treasure been granted to him, or why has he not a garden whereof he may eat'!'

And the wrongdoers say: "You follow none but a man bewitched.''

See how they coin similitudes for you, so they have gone astray, and they cannot find a path. Blessed be He Who, if He wills, will assign you better than that - Gardens under which rivers flow and will assign you palaces.

Nay, they deny the Hour, and for those who deny the Hour, We have prepared a flaming Fire. )25:7-11(

Allah's saying,

until you cause a spring to gush forth from the earth for us,

refers to a spring of flowing water. They asked him to bring forth springs of fresh water in the land of Al-Hijaz, here and there. This is easy for Allah, may He be glorified and exalted; if He willed, He could do that. He could have responded to all their demands, but He knew that they would not be guided by that, as He says:

Truly, those, against whom the Word (wrath) of your Lord has been justified, will not believe. Even if every sign should come to them, until they see the painful torment. (10:96-97)

And Allah says:

And even if We had sent down unto them angels, and the dead had spoken unto them, and We had gathered together all things before their very eyes, they would not have believed. (6:111)

His saying;

Or you cause the heaven to fall upon us in pieces, as you have pretended,

means, `you promised us that on the Day of Resurrection the heavens will be split asunder, being broken and torn up, with parts of it falling down, so do that in this world and make it fall in pieces.'

This is like when they said:

O Allah! If this (the Qur'an) is indeed the truth from You, then rain down stones on us from the sky. (8:32)

Similarly, the people of Shu`ayb asked him:

So cause a piece of the heaven to fall on us, if you are of the truthful! (26:187)

So Allah punished them with the punishment of the day of Shadow (a gloomy cloud), which was the torment of a Great Day. (26:189)

or you bring Allah and the angels before (us) face to face;''

As for the Prophet of Repentance and Mercy, who was sent as a mercy to the worlds, he asked Allah to delay their punishment, in the hope that Allah would bring forth from their offspring people who would worship Allah Alone, with no partner or associate.

This is what indeed did happen, for among those who are mentioned above were some who later embraced Islam and became good and sincere Muslims, even Abdullah bin Abi Umayyah, who followed the Prophet (out of that meeting) and spoke to him as he did. He became a sincere Muslim and turned to Allah in repentance.

Or you have a house of Zukhruf.

Ibn Abbas, Mujahid and Qatadah said,

"This is gold.''

This was also what was said in the recitation of Ibn Mas`ud,

"Or you have a house of gold.''

or you ascend up into the sky,

meaning, you climb up on a ladder while we are watching you.

and even then we will put no faith in your ascension until you bring down for us a Book that we would read.

Mujahid said,

"This means a book in which there would be one page for each person, on which would be the words: `This is a book from Allah to so-and-so the son of so-and-so, which he would find by his head when he woke up in the morning.''

Say: "Glorified be my Lord! Am I anything but a man, sent as a Messenger.''

meaning, `Glorified, exalted and sanctified be He above the notion that anyone would come before Him concerning any matter pertaining to His authority and sovereignty. He is the One Who does what He wills. If He willed, he could have given you what you asked for, or if He willed, he could have refrained. I am only a Messenger to you, sent to convey the Messages of my Lord and advise you. I have done that, and the response to what you have asked is to be decided by Allah, may He be glorified.'

#allah #quran #revert #dua #islam #help #religion #revert help #ayat #hadith #revert help team

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almaqead · 8 months ago

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"The Plagues." From Surah Seven, Al Araf, "The Heights."

Ramadan Day 5.

We now know Allah sent the Archangel Gabriel to Muhammad to give him the Quran, an Account of the spiritual successes and failures of mankind up to that point, except in Arabic. He retained the original bedrock of the Torah, the Numbers, and this names Zakah as the top priority for all the religions of mankind.

The Torah and the Quran also say mankind must repent of its failure to show proper respect for God when it insists on disobeying the Pillar of Zakah or it will lose the benefits of His Grace.

All Muslims understand the importance of Zakah. Those who choose not to believe in God and observe Zakah must be dealt with according to the Quran:

7: 130-136.

Indeed, We afflicted Pharaoh’s people with famine and shortage of crops so they might come back ˹to their senses˺.

In times of prosperity, they said, “This is what we deserve,” but in adversity, they blamed it on Moses and those with him.1 Surely all is destined by Allah. Yet most of them did not know.

They said, “No matter what sign you may bring to deceive us, we will never believe in you.”

So We plagued them with floods, locusts, lice, frogs, and blood—all as clear signs, but they persisted in arrogance and were a wicked people.

When tormented, they pleaded, “O Moses! Pray to your Lord on our behalf, by virtue of the covenant He made with you. If you help remove this torment from us, we will certainly believe in you and let the Children of Israel go with you.”

But as soon as We removed the torment from them—until they met their inevitable fate1—they broke their promise.

So We inflicted punishment upon them, drowning them in the sea for denying Our signs and being heedless of them.

Commentary:

The Plagues are symbolic of ways tyrants oppress their societies and warp them, turning them the opposite direction of Allah called Allat, the krispy k'ream daughter of Allah who married a jinn.

The way to end a plague is to turn the tide. It is nice to think a bunch of knights are going ride up with their lances brandished and kill Muhammad bin Salman and his weird friends, or the same with Vladimir Putin or the Conehead in Iran but the oneness of freedom always lies with the oppressed. Plagues are a sign an Arby Q of one's oppressor is long overdue.

A society that is not able to observe the Pillars because of a tyrant must make changes. The Values in Gematria are:

v. 130: Indeed, We afflicted Pharaoh’s people with famine and shortage of crops. The Value in Gematria is 5040, האֶפֶסדאֶפֶס, apsadapes, "Understanding of why there is damage to the field." Also "understanding of what is in the dresser," AKA the Quran.

v. 131: In times of prosperity, they said, “This is what we deserve.” The Value in Gematria is 12965, היבטו‎ ‎ ‎"Look."

v. 132: No matter what sign you may bring to deceive us, we will never believe in you. The Value in Gematria is 8697, חו‎טז‎ ‎, hotez, "Splashed." =splashing of the blood. Persons who cannot accept the Pillars and the laws have to be sacrificed according to the tenets of law. All of us live according to the sufferance of the law.

v. 133: So We plagued them with floods, locusts, lice, frogs, and blood—all as clear signs, but they persisted in arrogance and were a wicked people.The Value in Gematria is 7934, ז‎טג‎ד‎, ZTGD, "they will resist."

v. 134: When tormented, they pleaded. The Value in Gematria is 15578, י״ההזח‎‎‎ the 10th Pier:

“You shall not covet your neighbor's house; you shall not covet your neighbor's wife, or his male servant, or his female servant, or his ox, or his donkey, or anything that is your neighbor's” (Ex. 20:17).

v. 135: But they broke their promise. The Value in Gematria is 6728, וז‎ב‎ח‎ ‎"and immolate,"

v. 136: So We inflicted punishment upon them, drowning them in the sea for denying Our signs and being heedless of them. The Value in Gematria is 5588, ההחח‎‎, "double the fire."

When people become jealous and start to covet, and change their will to power from ordinary elections, commerce, the means to securing wealth and a good reputation, all the elements contained in the 10th Commandment and no longer observe Zakah, the Quran says to immolate them, "offer as a sacrifice by burning."

In fact, the script says to double the fire by removing them from office, taking their power, wealth, possessions, freedom, and if their crimes justify legal capital punishment do that too. Most of all Allah's reputation and that of His Prophet must supersede that of a tyrant.

The name of Muhammad must never be used by or in association with a tyrant or oppressor. This is blasphemy against God and cannot be tolerated. When this happens, the only way mankind can atone for it is to grant the oppressed their freedom.

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fulcrum-7567 · 2 years ago

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I need Star Wars quotes. Your favorite ones.

But not just any quotes—I want them to be quotes I can put on a sign in my house, and people may or may not even realize it’s Star Wars.

For example:

“Your focus determines your reality.” —Qui Gon Jinn

“Because that’s when we’re strongest—as one.” —Ezra Bridger

Show me what you’ve got!

Bonus points if it’s from Rebels

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lovelikedestiny · 3 years ago

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“Are you afraid?”

It is a question the new guy who has just entered Nicky’s bar asks him, leaning against the counter, dark, expressive eyes flickering attentively over Nicky’s face. And yes, maybe the question is justified because Nicky keeps looking over the man’s shoulder more than he is maintaining eye contact and he is constantly shifting his weight uncomfortably while washing a used glass.

“Yes,” Nicky says without any hesitation since there is no point in lying when faced with a supernatural being with equally supernatural senses and he figures that the newcomer will hear if Nicky doesn’t tell the truth.

Besides, Nicky has learned that being honest is easier than getting tangled up in made-up stories - the truth will be discovered anyway.

His answer is not met with delight and the dark eyes of the man narrow in irritation. “For what reason?” He asks and when he lays a hand on the bar, Nicky catches a glimpse of the ring, marking the good-looking stranger as a shapeshifter. “I haven’t even ordered yet and am already greeted with fear. Is it because I am not human? If you detest my kind so much that you’re afraid of me without me having harmed you, you should think about a ’No creatures allowed’ sign on the door.”

Slowly, Nicky dries the glass with a kitchen towel,not knowing if it is good that he finds the voice of the shapeshifter very pleasant and enjoys his appearance with gold-kissed skin, beautiful curls and the strength, resting in his well built body, a lot.

With a derogatory huff the shapeshifter bares his teeth but otherwise shows no further signs of his second form and Nicky can’t help but admire his self control. “I’m so tired of small minded people like you who think they’re better than supernaturals and treat us disrespectfully because we don’t fit in your definition of normal. You know what? I came here to try out this bar that a friend recommended but it seems like he was completely mistaken.”

When he stops to breathe, Nicky uses the resulting silence and says: “I didn’t say I’m afraid of you.”

In an instant the mouth of the shapeshifter who had planned to continue his enraged rant snaps shut and he blinks, taken aback. “What?”

Nicky points towards some Jinns, whispering in a corner. “They were already here last week. Destroyed a table during their argument. I’m afraid they will do it again and ruin the decoration I picked for autumn. But I don’t want to ban them from the house because everyone can have bad days, you know.”

The shapeshifter blinks again. “What?”

“You asked me if I was afraid. Not if I was afraid of you. In this case, the answer would be No.” Nicky smiles slightly and throws the towel over his shoulder. “So, to start anew: Hey, I’m Nicky. What can I do for you today?”

“Oh shit…” The shapeshifter rubs his face abashed and gives Nicky a constrained, apologetic smile. “I am so sorry. I thought you would be an intolerant asshole and my day was long and exhausting, so it really railed me up and fuck...can I make it up to you somehow?”

While the shapeshifter slides on one of the stools in front of Nicky, Nicky shakes his head in denial. “You don’t have to apologize. You had every right to think that because I didn’t act very politely and I’m sorry for that.” Seeing that his customer is not at ease, he proceeds with a small wink. “But you could tell me your name, to begin with.”

With a tired sigh his opposite gives in and his shoulders lose their tenseness, features around his lips becoming softer. “I’m Joe. And I will forgive you, if you will forgive me for my rude behavior.”

“Even though you weren’t rude, Joe, it is a done deal. Anything I can get you?”

“Could you surprise me?”

“That can certainly be arranged.” Nicky is not blind and the way Joe’s smile lets his eyes sparkle and crinkles appear is fairly attractive. “How about an ’Afterlife’? It’s fruity, tangy and a little bitter.”

“Sounds good.”

As Nicky is preparing the drink, Joe takes a closer look around and snorts amusedly when he reads the blackboard behind Nicky on the wall. “You have a Shapeshifter-Saturday? What a pity I came here a day early.”

“I think I can make an exception for you,” Nicky whispers like a secret, fingers brushing when he gives Joe his drink.

He doesn’t flirt often with customers, it is more the other way around, especially when they’re already drunk. But Nicky knows what he wants and he is old enough to manage his love life. Watching Joe closely to read in his reaction if Nicky’s underlying flirt is welcome or not, he serves another customer, a vampire, who orders a real Bloody Mary.

Should Joe feel uncomfortable with how Nicky is talking to him, he would apologize immediately and get back to treating him with friendly professionalism without a second thought. But - and Nicky surely doesn’t want to brag - he is an excellent judge of character which is of great advantage in his job.

Joe takes a sip, peering over his drink with a predatory grin sending an involuntary but not unwelcome shiver down Nicky’s spine. It is a grin telling Nicky that Joe is definitely not averse. “Lovely.”

“Me or the drink?”

Acting like he would have to consider his answer, Joe cocks his head. “Hm...both. But one of them is hot.”

Nicky has to smirk against his will. “I knew I did something wrong mixing the drink.”

Joe chuckles into his glass and Nicky thinks that his night unexpectedly turned better. “I think I have to speak with the owner.”

Practiced, Nicky provides three selkies with his own creation of Fish and Chips, darting a glance at Joe who has gained at least twenty percent of attractiveness since he is not looking so drained anymore like when he entered the bar.

“Coincidentally, I know that the owner has a weakness for handsome men and believes that the customer is always right. So, you would have quite good odds.”

“Oh, really? Lucky me, huh?”

“Lucky me,” Nicky corrects and greets the elf that comes every day around nine with a kind smile.

They spend several minutes in their own minds, sharing heated looks every now and then - what Nile would call ‘eye fucking’ for certain - and Nicky works and Joe drinks until Joe says thoughtfully: “Can I ask you something, Nicky?”

“Go ahead,” Nicky says with an encouraging tone.

“Don’t get me wrong, I think the concept of this bar is amazing after being here for some time. But why does a human have a bar in a place with one of the highest rates of supernaturals? Mystic creatures can be dangerous, deadly in the worst case. There are always assholes who think they rule the world.”

The serious curiosity in Joe’s voice makes Nicky face him completely. Joe is not judging anything and only interested and Nicky has to admit to being slightly touched by the minimal concern he thinks to hear.

“I wanted to make a difference,” he answers deliberately. “Respect, tolerance and acceptance should be normal instead of virtues we only try to achieve. With a bar that is open for everyone despite their nature I had the intention to make a step in that direction.” He shrugs. “I don’t want to judge a book by its cover.”

“I think you underestimate how much that means for us,” Joe says quietly and Nicky wants to reply but a rusty laugh on their right prevents him from doing so.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about Nicky if I were you,” says Marty, one of Nicky’s regular customers. “Last Monday he threw out a whole pack of werewolves and not even the Alpha wanted to mess with him.”

Before Nicky can check how Joe reacts to it, the Jinns get louder and more aggressive and Nicky straightens instinctively, already expecting to have to intervene to prevent further damage. But Joe gets ahead of him.

“Hey!” He shouts and gets the attention of the Jinns quickly. “If you can’t behave yourselves, you can resolve your matter outside, okay? Everyone here wants to have a good time.”

One of the Jinns gets up with a snarl but then Joe does something and whatever it is, it makes the standing Jinn get pale and quickly sit down again.

When Joe turns back to Nicky, a bright golden glow in his eyes goes out and yes, that is hot.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” Usually Nicky is the one who has to settle things like that in his bar but although he is not used to someone else sticking up for him, he can’t complain.

Joe grins sheepishly. “I know you probably could’ve handled that yourself after you beat up a wolf pack but I had to use the chance to make a good impression.”

“I didn’t beat up a wolf pack,” Nicky protests, slightly embarrassed. “I escorted them resolutely out of my bar after a polite request didn’t work.”

“Okay, when you phrase it like that it is even hotter.”

“Says the one who just made Jinns calm down with one look. I guess you’re so hot that you set me on fire.”

A heartfelt laugh bursts out of Joe. “Does that mean I could burn myself?”

“I have a fire extinguisher.”

“Could you two just hook up already?” Marty asks, rolling his eyes. “Listening to you is disturbing.”

“I’m just getting started,” Joe jokes.

It’s been a long time since Nicky felt so lighthearted in a conversation. “I know how to handle the supernatural.” He already had a few relationships with supernatural beings and learned some tricks in his job as well.

Joe leans forward. “Yeah? Would you show me?”

“Absolutely.” Nicky mirrors Joe’s movements and snorts when Marty groans and leaves his stool, obviously not eager to watch their flirting any longer. “Tell me, Joe, would you be willing...to meet me again?”

Joe smiles and his dimples are lovely. “Why don’t you ask me and find out?”

“Do you…” Nicky reaches for Joe’s hand, carding their fingers together. “...want to go on a date with me?”

White teeth flash in Joe’s beard. “It would be my pleasure, Nicky.”

#the old guard #tog fanfic #ficlet #yusuf al-kaysani #nicolo di genova #joe x nicky #barkeeper!Nicky #shapeshifter!Joe #bad flirting #fluff #supernatural beings #AU #just something soft and sweet #hopefully haha

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padawanlost · 4 years ago

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Something I've noticed recently over the past few months is this trend where people have been diagnosing Anakin with narcissistic personality disorder instead of C-PTSD or BPD, the more commonly seen diagnoses. I personally disagree, but I wanted to hear your "two sense" on the matter if you will, you're one of the best meta-writers on this site.

It’s because people don’t like Anakin as presented on screen. They want Anakin to be as selfish and arrogant as possible so they can blame him from everything that happened. If it’s ALL about Anakin than everyone else can be left off the hook.

Anakin ‘I don’t want to be a problem’ Skywalker is clearly narcissistic. I mean, he fits all the signs:

Have a sense of entitlement and require constant, excessive admiration

“Ten years in this place, and still he was an object of interest. Of speculation. All their hopes and dreams hanging on him like decorations on a bantha skeleton at Boonta Eve. He hated it.” [Clone Wars: Wild space, Karen Miller]

Have an exaggerated sense of self-importance

“You would forgo your destiny for Padmé?” Anakin’s brows beetled in anger. “I never claimed to be the Chosen One. That was Qui-Gon. Even the Council doesn’t believe it anymore, so why should you?” [ James Luceno. Labyrinth of Evil]

Expect to be recognized as superior even without achievements that warrant it

Anakin bumped his hand against [Obi-wan]. “Wait. Just—wait.” Embarrassed, he took a deep breath. “Look. Don’t take this the wrong way. It’s just—it’s the mission, right? That’s what matters. So—” “Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s whisper sounded amused. “It’s fine. I was about to suggest it myself when the droids turned up.” “You were?” “Play to your strengths and minimize your weaknesses. That’s how a battle is won. That’s how we’ll win the war.” Anakin had to smile. I should’ve known he wouldn’t take it personally. “Yeah. So—once I’m up and over and nobody raises the alarm, give me a five-count then follow. I’ll give you the best Force boost I can. Not that you’ll need much. Your leap was only a meter and a half behind Master Windu’s. Remember?” Obi-Wan gave a breathy chuckle. “I remember I had nosebleeds for a week afterward. Don’t ever feel bad for being extraordinary, Anakin. Now off you go. We don’t have all night.” [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Take advantage of others to get what they want

“He thought of how unflinchingly loyal Anakin was to anyone he considered a friend.” [Matthew Stover’s Revenge of the Sith]

Exaggerate achievements and talents

He was the Chosen One, they told him. He was supposed to bring balance to the Force. Anakin thought that some little extra support might go with being the Chosen One, a helping hand or at least some understanding from the Jedi Council, but instead he was passed around like an unwelcome burden, ending up with Qui-Gon Jinn and then Kenobi because nobody else would have him. His chosen status meant less than nothing; it felt more like a stigma. And they wondered why he was difficult at times. Maybe they didn’t want balance, whatever that was. Maybe nobody liked a Jedi who was that different. He felt like an embarrassment to them. I do everything you ask of me. I try so hard. When is it going to be enough? When are you going to say, “Okay, Anakin Skywalker, you’re good enough”? Karen Traviss’s The Clone Wars

Be preoccupied with fantasies about success, power, brilliance, beauty or the perfect mate

Impatience. Concern. Relief. Loneliness. Weariness. And grief, not yet healed. Such a muddle of emotions. Such a weight on [Anakin]’s shoulders. Months of brutal battle had left [Ahsoka] drained and nearly numb, but it was worse for Anakin. He was a Jedi general with countless lives entrusted to his care, and every life damaged or lost he counted as a personal failure. For other people he found forgiveness; for himself there was none. For himself there was only anger at not meeting his own exacting standards. [Karen Miller’s Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Believe they are superior and can only associate with equally special people

It’s not just Skywalker’s rank that makes us give him one hundred percent. It’s because he treats us with respect, and he puts himself on the line with us.” [The Clone Wars by Karen Traviss]

Monopolize conversations and belittle or look down on people they perceive as inferior

Having worked their way around the village, finding nothing to wake their uneasily sleeping sense of alarm, Obi-Wan and Anakin returned to the beaten-dirt square and the charter house. Its doors were open now and a woman who had to be Teeba Brandeh stood on the broad step, hands on her narrow hips, watching the children scatter across the square to play a proper game of kickball. Grinning, without bothering to ask if he might, or if it were wise, or if they had the time to spare, so independent these days, Anakin jogged to join them. After a moment’s amazed hesitation the children welcomed him with squeals of delight, rough-and-tumbled him into their midst and made him one of their own. Obi-Wan shook his head. “He’s nice,” said the girl with the bracelet and the ragged hair, wandering over to stand beside him. “Don’t be cross with him, Teeb Yavid.” Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Siege

“Oh, no,” said Anakin, grinning. “It was fun too.” May the Force give me strength. “And that business with the boy? Because when I said no heavy lifting I—” Anakin’s amusement vanished. “He wasn’t heavy. These younglings are skin and bone. I look at them and—” He clenched his jaw. ”Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Siege

Expect special favors and unquestioning compliance with their expectations

[Anakin] did not like the fact that he had won. It seemed wrong that he had stepped so far out of line, and yet had been retained as a Padawan. He did not like the unease this victory, if victory it was, produced in him. Above all weaknesses, arrogance was the most costly. They keep me here because I have potential they’ve never seen before. They keep me in training because they’re curious to see what I can do. I feel like a rich man who never knows whether his friends are true-or whether they just want his money. This was a particularly galling thought, and certainly neither true nor fair. Why do they put up with me, then? Why do I keep testing them? [Greg Bear’s Rogue Planet]

Have an inability or unwillingness to recognize the needs and feelings of others

“I’m sorry. I’m not normally this stupid. I just—” And then she felt her face crumple and heard herself sob. Her knees buckled and she began to sink toward the floor. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she choked. “Don’t mind me. I’m fine.” [Anakin] caught her before she tumbled completely. Lifted her without effort and carried her to the sofa. Boneless and unprotesting, she let him. Let her face turn to his roughly shirted, dirty chest and howled her rage and shame against him. Dimly, she felt his hand warm and comforting on her back and heard his soft voice saying, over and over, “It’s all right. It’s all right. You’re safe now. It’s all right.” The crazy thing was that she did feel safe. For the first time since those Separatist blaster bolts seared the air and sand of Niriktavi Bay, since she saw her friends and colleagues slaughtered, she felt safe. Then, abruptly, she felt mortified. What was she doing? Weeping like a child all over a man young enough to be her son? Where was her pride? She shifted away from him, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry.” “Don’t apologize,” he said gently. “You’ve got a right to be upset. Now, where’s that medkit?”Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth

Be envious of others and believe others envy them

The Jedi Council didn’t want me, either. Being the Chosen One didn’t count for anything. Master Yoda wouldn’t train me, or Windu. Every member of the Jedi Council had had something more pressing to do than help him work out what this terrible, galaxy-changing power of his meant, and how he should live in its shadow. He still wasn’t sure. Anakin recalled standing there in that grand, polished Jedi Council Chamber, surrounded by what felt like fear, and disdain, and bewilderment—who were those Masters to feel bewildered, that the only person there who cared if he lived or died was Master Qui-Gon Jinn. [Karen Traviss. The Clone Wars]

[Anakin] had worried that Obi-Wan did not have room for him in his heart. But Shmi’s smile rose in Anakin’s mind. Hearts have infinite room, my son. JUDE WATSON’S THE TRAIL OF THE JEDI

Behave in an arrogant or haughty manner, coming across as conceited, boastful and pretentious

The fear and dread in her face eased, just a little. “You’re a very sweet young man, Anakin Skywalker.” [Karen Miller’s Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

[Anakin] humbles me, sometimes. He makes me feel small. He can’t see a broken thing without wanting to fix it. [Karen Miller’s Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

“I don’t know,” she said, floundering. “I can’t say I’ve ever given the Jedi much thought. I mean, not as individuals. I never expected to meet one—let alone two. I don’t tend to go places where your skills are needed. But—well—you’re gentle.” [Karen Miller’s Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Insist on having the best of everything — for instance, the best car or office

“I’m not giving him to you,” [Anakin]’d told her. “He’s not even really mine to give; when I built him, I was a slave, and everything I did belonged to Watto. Cliegg Lars bought him along with my mother; Owen gave him back to me, but I’m a Jedi. I have renounced possessions. I guess that means he’s free now. What I’m really doing is asking you to look after him for me.” “Look after him?” “Yes. Maybe even give him a job. He’s a little fussy,” he’d admitted, “and maybe I shouldn’t have given him quite so much self-consciousness—he’s a worrier—but he’s very smart, and he might be a real help to a big-time diplomat … like, say, a Senator from Naboo?”Matthew Stover. Revenge of the Sith

#ask #anon #sw meta #meta: anakin #meta: fandom #txt

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mewgirl1995 · 2 years ago

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Summary: When Senator Palpatine of Naboo is nominated for High Chancellor of the Galactic Republic, he becomes targeted by an unknown assassin. The Jedi Council assigns Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his Padawan learner Obi-Wan Kenobi to protect the Senator. To Obi-Wan’s great frustration, their protection detail includes Palpatine’s adopted son Anakin Skywalker, who fosters an unusual hatred for the Jedi Order. Their tumultuous relationship will shape galactic history for years to come as the galaxy grows darker under the influence of a Sith hidden in plain sight.

A story told in three parts during Palpatine’s rise to power as Chancellor, the early Clone Wars, and the end of the Clone Wars.

Read on AO3 (from the beginning)

Read on AO3 (Part 1, Chapter 2)

Chapter Excerpt:

Obi-Wan wasn’t paying much mind to Anakin; rather he seemed focused on watching the various levels around them. Anakin kept walking, though he observed Obi-Wan from the corner of his eye. Obi-Wan was methodical, taking several moments to scan the crowds and surrounding area before his eyes darted back to Anakin. Still, he spent most of his time looking elsewhere. When they approached a bustling intersection, Anakin grinned. His moment had arrived.

When Obi-Wan turned his head to look down the street, Anakin darted away, rushing through the crowd towards the shops on the far side of the walkway. More specifically towards a nightclub situated near a clothing store. Anakin often visited both.

As Anakin swiped a cloak from the outside rack, he nodded to the owner. “Charge it to my account,” he said with a wink.

Over the noise of the bustling crowd, Anakin heard a panicked yell from Obi-Wan, “Anakin? Anakin! This isn’t funny!”

Anakin begged to differ. He pulled the cloak’s hood over his head and hurried down the alleyway towards the next walkway. It opened up into a series of open-air restaurants and bars. All of which were popular enough for Anakin to slip through the crowds. With no sign of Obi-Wan, he paused and went inside one of the bars on the furthest edge from where he came. Once he found himself at the bar, he breathed a sigh of relief and pulled back his hood.

“Your father finally let you out of the house?” The bartender, a pretty Twi’lek with dark purple skin and swirling silver patterns across her arms and lekku, walked over to him. She leaned across the bar and smiled. “Wondered if you were on house arrest. I thought surely that scamp got into something he shouldn’t have. You have a knack for that.”

“Who are you calling a scamp, Dumi?” Anakin said with a slight grin.

“I call them as I see them, Anakin. And before you even ask, I’m still not going to serve you any alcohol,” she replied as she poured a red Phattro into a glass. “You may play the role of a high society son, but you’re a scamp at heart.”

Perhaps she was right. After all, Anakin did just run away from his Jedi guard. He reached for his drink, but it was snatched away before he could even take a sip. With a scowl, Anakin turned to yell at the would-be drink thief but froze in surprise.

“You owe me this,” Obi-Wan said. He hardly looked like he had broken a sweat. “Did you think you would lose me that easily?”

It was impossible. How in the world had Obi-Wan managed to find him so quickly? Anakin grabbed his drink back, scowling. There was no way. Obi-Wan hadn’t even been near him when he switched to his cloak. Without spotting his clothes, there was no other way Obi-Wan could have found him in a crowd.

“Did you put some sort of tracking device on me?” Anakin reached for his pockets, patting himself down.

At that, Obi-Wan burst into laughter. “Honestly, you put that little faith in a Jedi’s skills?” He sat down in the seat next to Anakin’s, flashing a smile at Dumi as she poured him a Phattro as well. “If you wanted to go out, you could have said something rather than running off.”

“I wanted to go alone.”

Even though he had been caught, Anakin was impressed. He didn’t think that Obi-Wan could have managed to find him again—let alone find him that quickly. Perhaps there was more to the Jedi than he first thought. He must have been strong in the Force and a quick-thinker. Anakin hummed under his breath and took a long sip. The ice clinked against the glass, muffled by the noise in the rest of the bar.

“I do not like this arrangement either, believe me. But I will not fail my mission just because you wish to act like a spoiled brat.”

“Wouldn’t you despise having to be accompanied everywhere like some child? Am I really acting out much more than any reasonable person would?”

At that, Obi-Wan hesitated momentarily; he looked considerate, tracing his fingers along the glass rim. Anakin felt a smug sense of satisfaction. The all-knowing Jedi clearly hadn’t thought of that. Though he probably wasn’t used to being alone. The Jedi had little of their own—no belongings, no personal space. No feelings.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin thought he must have been imagining things. He stood, nodding towards the back of the bar. “I’ll give you some time alone. Let me know when you wish to leave.”

Stunned into silence, Anakin watched Obi-Wan leave, sitting at a table far on the other side of the bar. He continued watching for danger from there but seemed to be trying his best to give Anakin privacy. Despite Obi-Wan’s clear annoyance and dislike of Anakin, he still treated him kindly. He gave him the benefit of the doubt. Had Anakin tried running from Palpatine, he would have gotten scolded and punished thoroughly. Phantom burning tingled along Anakin’s side at the thought. He turned back to the bar, staring down at his drink.

“Who’s your friend Anakin?” Dumi asked. She had been watching their conversation from afar. “A Jedi?” She hummed and leaned over the bar, very openly admiring Obi-Wan. “And a handsome one at that.”

“An annoying one,” Anakin said immediately. “Father is being threatened by an assassin which means I have been forced into being babysat.”

“Oh, poor dear. It must be absolute torture.”

#obikin #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #star wars

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rwby-sk · 4 years ago

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My ship thoughts

This will be a long post, so I’m putting it under a ‘keep reading”

Bumbleby - Until Vol.4 I wasn’t sure if the Bees liked each other. Like yeah, we’ve had solid evidence since, like, their Vol.1 trailers. But still. I wasn’t sure CRWBY would do it. But wow was I impressed. - Probably my favorite well-known ship - Their EYES are the colors of each others SOULS what more do you want??? - I wish my gf would throw a motorcycle at my abusive ex...

Nuts and Dolts - I tried pushing this ship out of my mind for so long. I did. I wasn’t ready for it - I appreciated the things people made for the ship. I knew it had potential - But wow. Vol.8 really said “Nuts and Dolts rights” and I respect that - They’re so cute together. It’s like if Pyrrha came back to life and could be with Jaune again. - But healthier this way (see Arkos)

Renora - Wholesome - Cute - ‘Boop’ is one of my favorite songs - We all saw it coming. But how we got there was the fun part - That Vol. 4 finale though...

Arkos - First off, Arkos is my favorite ship from Vol.1-3 - Himbo is taught how to drink his respect women juice by an Amazon? Sign me up - The character development, the mutual respect, the CARE - ForeverFall still fucks me up. I cry when I listen to it - I love Pyrrha, she’s my girl, but... She really betrayed Jaune’s trust at the very end. He told her specifically he never wanted to be helpless and watch his friends fight for their lives again. And she did exactly that to him. Making him wonder if he could have made a difference had he been able to fight by her side with her in the end. - But it’s not really even Pyrrha’s fault. Ozpin’s expectations and Cinder’s plan are more to blame - Still high tier - It’s just so tragic

WhiteKnight - Cute in theory - But it’d have to be done so carefully to be a good romantic pairing - As friends? I LOVE IT. Make these two best friends right now! - But Jaune moved past his feelings for Weiss in Vol.2 when he finally realized she meant it when she told him she didn’t like him - I’m shocked though that so few people pick up on Ep.3 Vol.1 when Weiss is making fun of Jaune and mockingly calls him a “cute boy”. I think Jaune just thought Weiss liked him already, and went from there. He hits on Pyrrha pretty quick in Ep.4 too - I think it could work with who they are now, but I think they’re better as friends

WhiteRose - The sole reason I didn’t ship Nuts and Dolts sooner - Vol. 6 messed me up okay? That red scarf really threw me for a loop - Chasing each other in the Argus Limited? - Weiss sassing Ruby non-stop Vol.1-3? - It also completes the RW BY JP NR pairings. I like to joke that the Emerald forest is actually “true love” forest. And whoever you lock eyes with first you fall in love with them. But that only works sometimes - Also that part where they call out each others names when Jinn shows them Ozpin’s past

Ladybug - Cute and interesting - I’m not against it. I would just need more of it to ship it myself - They just have such solid connections with other characters - I do love Blake’s introduction to the main cast though, and how much Blake looks up to Ruby

Freezerburn - Similar to LadyBug - Cute, but I just ship them more with other people - That hug in Vol.5 was a bit sus though - Yang does seem to open up the most with Weiss - And Weiss defended Yang so quickly after the Mercury fight - It’s not unfounded, I’ll say that - Analyzing it has opened my eyes

Crosshares - Yes - Just - Yes - High femme fashion ICON Coco Adel - With fan-fave Velvet Scarlatina - WLW powercouple - I wish I was Coco and Velvet is cute, not much to understand here, keep scrolling

RoseGarden - I have my concerns - Oscar is a wonderful kid - He probably has a crush on Ruby - And he is a wholesome boy who deserves all the happiness - But he also has a manipulative immortal Wizard in his head - So - You know

Lancaster - I never saw Lancaster. Jaune is the first boy Ruby meets. And Jaune calls her cute and quirky once, but... - I love Ruby’s talk with Jaune about failure in Vol. 1, then his return to that speech in Vol. 4 in return. - I think they lean on each other as leaders - But I don’t see it going further - Cute though. I’ve seen nice fanart

BlackSun - I read an analysis a long time ago that really sat with me - Blake asked for space (not out loud, but in action) when she ran away - Yang gave her what she wanted. She didn’t like it. But she gave Blake what she asked for. - Sun on the other hand, didn’t. He followed and helped her anyway. (Believe me, Blake could have used all the help she could get in Vol. 4-5) But in doing so, he kinda took himself out of the running as love interest. - He’s and excellent Foil for Blake though, so I love him

SeaMonkies - Two bros, chilling in a hot tub... - Is it gay to become junior detectives with your best friend and only hang out with him for like 3 seasons? - These two are just - So fucking stupid - Apart, they are fine. Very competent. - Together though - They are just so dumb I think its cute as hell

JNR - Wholesome - I could see it in Argus. In front of Pyrrha’s statue - They love each other - Maybe its not 100% romantic - But they love each other - I could be happy here

JNR+Neo - CRIME + Ren - The pure chaos of Nora and Neo - The exhausted mom-friend energy from Ren and Jaune - The power polycule that could take on Salem alone and maybe win? - I think it’d be cute, but I personally ship them in the two pairs a bit more.

Bees Schnees - We add Blake and Yang’s angst, Yang and Weiss’ trust, and Weiss and Blake’s mutual understanding and growth - Wow okay - I have to give it to you, I kinda like it

Neo x Jaune x Ruby - Based on my response to Lancaster, you might be able to guess my answer here - I think a lot of the ship’s points lie in “What’s better than one short girl dating the tallest guy in the cast? Two short girls dating the tallest guy in the cast!” - Cute though, I think it’d be chaotic and wholesome - But poor Jaune would be exhausted trying to make sure the house doesn;t burn down every five minutes

May x Winter - Look - If I hadn’t made a Neo x Jaune side blog - I would have made a May x Winter side blog - The comparisons - The family legacies - The pure amount of how attracted I am to both characters - What happens when two tops date each other? - What if they were partners in Atlas? - What if May was Winter’s first crush. And after May came out, Winter was like “Oh thank the gods, I was worried I liked all women and only one guy for some reason. Cool, crisis adverted. So anyway, Marigold, here’s how you do your makeup” - I could go on - Haha don’t tempt me - I’m serious - Please let them sass each other at some point

GuardDogs - Marrow = Just doing his best - Jaune = Just doing his best - Marrow and Jaune = two himbos just vibing in this world - If we don’t get Silentknight, I’d be proud to get GuardDogs - Marrow sure has been worried about “Juan” this whole time, huh?

Emercury - The sass - The pure sass - Mercury’s unearned confidence paired with Emerald’s quick temper - Wow, I hope Em can turn him away from murdering people. - If Em gets 1 friend, I hope its Mercury and not Cinder - At least Mercury cares about her (But he’s too cool to admit that outright) - Mercury is going to see Em on RWBY’s team and just immediately walk over and join up. No questions asked. “I guess we’re good now. Sorry Tyrian, its been cool, not really”

Happy Huntresses - Yes - Look at that HUG - Ladies, is it gay to go off into the tundra and form a rebellion against the fascist government with three of your hottest gal pals?

#Rwby #ships #im not tagging them all

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dog-day-morning · 3 years ago

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YOU OWE THEM NOTHING

People can be self-righteous when it comes to what they think God is supposed to do if, and when they call on Him. God is not a genie in a bottle that you rub, and a jinn pops out granting you 3 or 300 wishes. The saying faith without works is dead can be applied here. Have you ever heard of or read the book Daniel Webster and the devil? This tall tale or folklore legend was about a man who made a deal with old Slew Foot, and when it was time to pay up he had 2nd thoughts. Satan never plays fair. He's forever putting us in positions where we find ourselves desperate for a quick solution to a temporary problem that only leads to a difficult end. The Latin term for buyer beware is caveat emptor, and Satan knows how to spell. The power of a wicken comes from their basic weapon of spelling or casting spells by word of mouth. Even the Bible tells us that “Death and life are in the power of the tongue: and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof.” Tell that to a Nicolaitan. Those who make deals with the most unclean should expect to suffer in the end. Never trust the father of lies who deals in treachery, and deceit. I look back at my mother's life and wonder if God had ever intervened for her, and fought her battles that surely He and only He would be able to deliver her from, and He has. Life is hard, for many it’s a nightmare that’s ongoing. Satan comes to you when you're at your weakest or most vulnerable in the hopes of snaring your soul into eternal suffering. Jesus comes to deliver us from death, sin, and temptations that confuse us in our trek towards His truth. If you have any aspirations of entertaining people with your gifted voice or your talent for playing lead guitar, don’t sign a contract that promises you the world only to find out you owe them your sweet ass which a man of honor wouldn't consider let alone make you cosign your body for their horn dog appeasement.

Revelation 2:9

9 I know thy works, and tribulation, and poverty, (but thou art rich) and I know the blasphemy of them which say they are Jews, and are not, but are the synagogue of Satan.

You're abundantly rich in spirit Yacob. Now’s the time to claim your position. These bastards have taken everything from you leaving your ancestors nothing but dust. If they could remove us off the face of the Earth they would. They're plotting to do so as you and I breathe, that's why the Father never sleeps. They are demon spawns who say they worship, and believe in God, but whose god, and what righteous god tells you to destroy a people with his blessing knowing what the children of Japheth have done to them historically? The spawns of Satan want your penuche, mouth, titties, and a-hole for their pleasure along with your talent that Justin Timberlake does not have. The new faces of R&B do not look like the people I grew up listening to or the race of people whose songs left an everlasting impression on my bleeding heart that helped me through my ill-fated, miserable existence. Robin Thicke, Christina Aguilera, K-Pop, the BackStreet Boys, and New Kids on the Block. Some of these groups are defunct, but they’re cranking out as many as they possibly can like Justin Bieber, and Demi Lovato. I just saw on YouTube where people were considering if Elvis Presley was Black, WTF?!! He was the biggest culture thief that Dr. Frankenstein, AKA Colonel Parker ever created. Man is cruel; Satan is a whole other type of bastard you shouldn’t entertain. I'm retarded. Some call me an idiot savant. YO MOMMA!!! People are blessed by the Father who has blessed many of us with gifts. There are many of you whom God has endowed with multiple talents that people would sell their soul in order to possess just one. If you're anointed by God to sing like Aretha Franklin may He lead you to sign with a label like Brother Carl Crawford's who won't make the same mistake he did with a very popular artist at this moment. More than likely you'll sign a contract entrusting your talent, blessing, and soul to the most unclean ones. Ain’t a reason in hell you should bow down or bend over for a leach like Mr. Friedman so he can butt bone your a-hole while enriching himself off your God given talents. God blesses those who seek him out, and those that don’t. I don’t know if Eddie Murphy went to Church, and sowed an offering every Sunday to God praying that the Father would make him the highest paid comedic actor in his prime. Richard Pryor was anointed in the womb to be the most blessed comedic talent, and influential comedian to ever walk this Earth bar none yet he and Mr. Murphy pursued their dreams in different ways with both of them becoming world renown. I'm inclined to ask, was it worth it?

Mark 8:36

For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?

The synagogue of Satan isn’t a trending pop culture manifestation that’s to be esteemed, cherished, or envied. These cults are trying to maintain a stranglehold on a world that’s not meant for them or their sort. People who play with Ouija boards or childhood games like Bloody Mary, and light as a feather are ushering dark spirits into their homes leaving their loved ones exposed to something sinister. Get the hell away from me and mine unless you're my sister, AKA Ms. Skunk Funk, who needs to get the crust burnt off her musty, dusty drawers. The whore of Don Juan has a death wish. Explain to me how running with the devil beats walking with God?

Isaiah 59:7

7 Their feet run to evil, and they make haste to shed innocent blood: their thoughts are thoughts of iniquity; wasting and destruction are in their paths.

This Nation was built on our ancestor’s blood, sweat, and relentless faith. Believe me when I say there's strength in every tear. I pray to God that I don’t shed anymore of them. Their wealth is not. It's a stolen Promise that the Father shall reward His children with. Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be meat in mine house, and prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it. The most glaring, and frustrating example that is also bitter and disheartening I can give you is our Promised Inheritance called Yisrael that the gentiles are squatting on. When a person or in this case a tribe or race of people believe in their own lies they've become reprobate; they're lost.

Revelation 3:9

9 Behold, I will make them of the synagogue of Satan, which say they are Jews, and are not, but do lie; behold, I will make them to come and worship before thy feet, and to know that I have loved thee.

This is what all of Esau's children fear. It's why the bland, colored people of the world are flipping over the Earth's axis, and killing us without any probable cause. They are a lawless people who've displayed their lack of empathy, and humanity for anyone save their own breed, they behave like blood hounds. I've become content with this planet being void of water (Holy Spirit.) Black people suffer from a social disorder called the crab bucket mentality. We hate to see anyone rise up, and we’ll do whatever it takes to keep them down or discourage them. That person may possess something that can benefit the collective, who cares. He who possesses that blessing needs to haul tail ASAP before the winter comes knowing the Father will bless him, and a downtrodden people beyond their wildest dreams. This is why Yeshua, and His Father call us children. It's why I pray, and bemoan to the Father daily that He slays me, putting the fear of the Lord in the heathen and His Son Christ Jesus uses us for His purpose. God doesn't need us, we need Him. He's given us so much power, and authority. When you acquire it, use it for something other than satisfying your sinful, carnal, flesh minded desires. Men, don't behave like horn dogs, and women do not behave as Aholah, and Aholibah, 2 whores.

Numbers 32:24

24 Build you cities for your little ones, and folds for your sheep; and do that which hath proceeded out of your mouth.

Out of thine own mouth you have power to tread over snakes and scorpions. You can exorcise demons and devils out of your present life braking generational curses which is what I' want for a family that's disowned me. To God be the glory. God is telling us to declare a thing, and claim it. What a mighty, just God we serve. Your tongue will become a weapon to use against the lawless ones who use theirs recklessly in their attempts to get us arrested or murdered by local, and federal authorities. You can call it giving them a taste of their own medicine, it isn't. You're reclaiming what they've taken, stolen, including those of us they've murdered.

Isaiah 54:17

17 No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper; and every tongue that shall rise against thee in judgment thou shalt condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, and their righteousness is of me, saith the Lord.

The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly. Speak positive prayers out loud if you can. If you live with your family or have a roommate pray in the closet. You'll have favor with God that many people won't. They rebuked the Lord, and their anger did tear perpetually, and they kept their wrath forever. When they use their privilege, which is what we call it more often than they, comprehending they’re fully aware knowing they use it with a Demonic, driven hatred. They persecute Black men, women, and children for reasons that are not godly, and the Father does not condone. They, and all the Earth will have to answer for our individual sins against the Father in the end.

Luke 10:19

19 Behold, I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy: and nothing shall by any means hurt you.

We don’t worship the same god as they do. They're praying to a god to erase us off the face of the Earth. Why hasn't he?.

Exodus 1:12

12 But the more they afflicted them, the more they multiplied and grew. And they were grieved because of the children of Israel.

Their birth rate is dropping steadily. For the first time in the history of the census they decreased in population globally while indigenous, and other races of people stayed steady or in our case increased. This is the reasoning behind these draconian abortion laws. They're trying to preserve themselves while God is eliminating the Earth of their bloody dominion. God is sending the wicked a message before the storm comes, but no one's listening. Their violence towards us is documented, and more often it's unprovoked. They continue with the guilty until proven worthy of their mercy dogmatic mantra which is racist BS. The Earth will be lulled back to sleep. When they're confident that their world isn't in danger of being challenged by anyone, especially us. That's when God will do things that will scare them right back to the caucasus mountains bringing destruction to those who've touched, bruised, and abused the Apple of His eye. Speak life into your angel spirit, don’t entertain the demon seed that's trying to kill you, and the rest of Earth's indigenous people. You have much authority, use it. Elohim. 9/23/2021

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marithlizard · 4 years ago

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First Impressions of RWBY v8e13, “Worthy”

"Worthy", huh. From Watts' impassioned rant. So will this be Cinder's ultimate attack, and fall?

The tagline certainly suggests the plan is going to fail horribly; I just hope it doesn't take the population with it...

Oh, we're skipping back in time a bit! JNRE grappling with the problem of how to tell people to enter the portals.

Portal-space certainly looks cool. It reminds me of jewelry, the disks of the portals linked by golden strands, strewn across space. Specifically, it reminds me of the chain-jewelry that Ambrosius wears.

Most of them going ahead to warn Vacuo, smart. They're convinced the Academy there is "armed to the teeth" (how do they know, though?) , which helps explain why they chose it as a destination. And I'd thought about the major problem of feeding and housing X thousand refugees, but not the big honking wave of Grimm that will be coming their way with all the feelings.

Ren looks so proud of Nora there. And yeah, she and Jaune are the right choices to persuade crowds of people to walk into mysterious portals.

Emerald: oh my god, it's like a mandatory corporate morale-boosting meeting with you people EVERY FIVE MINUTES. Oscar: Yes and you signed up for it, so look perky.

That was a very bossy little silent display for someone half Emerald's height, Oscar. Like a headmaster to a student.

Question that will probably never be answered; how do they know where each of all those portals goes? They aren't labeled or even color coded.

Atlesian prairie dogs.

Whoa, and we're in Vacuo already! That was quick.

ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh crap. I'll take "Obvious-in-hindsight things I did not see coming" for 200, Alex.

Can't they just have them wait inside portal space? That's horribly dangerous, with the risk of falling off the edge, but probably better than a sandstorm.

OH NO. No, no they can't. When Ambrosius said "Do. Not. Fall." I didn't think it was foreshadowing random civilians!

They left Penny alone with the staff????

"Your little friend Oscar was right" about what? She's taunting them about having bugged all their scroll discussion, presumably. Which means she knows just about everything.

I don't know what I'm more surprised by - the prospect of the lamp question being used, or a sincere-sounding apology from Cinder.

Roman would've been tickled to know what his hat was being used for, I bet.

Watts looks more stunned by Jinn than anything else so far.

Jinn has to answer, but she doesn't seem at all happy about it. No small talk from her this time.

Cinder looks momentarily distressed at the sight of Emerald, but it's only a flicker.

....Uh. That's dark. I hope Bill called in sick today.

A happy Watts is not a good thing. And I'm impressed by how Cinder has bounced back and changed her tactics to be more diplomatic. Is any of it sincere? Doubtful, but it does the job.

oh my god, is Watts eating an apple as a deliberate reference to Death Note? That's hilarious. (Okay, it's not a potato chip. But I can't be the only one who instantly made the connection, and eating apples *was* a thing in that anime...)

ohhh no, this is bad. Shades of Beacon.

Kamikazebot. Elegant.

Annd Elm and Vine make a flying exit. They're going to be surprised by the state of the world outside.

Oh, shut up Jacques. Even Ironwood doesn't - well, maybe he does deserve to be stuck with you, but what a punishment.

Watts really is clever. I don't know what Ironwood will do, but it's reasonable to assume it'll be something awful. Will he really sabotage the evacuation out of spite? I know every time I've asked "but would he REALLY" the answer has been "Yup!", but this time.... this time I think we're approaching a classic Star Wars style atone-for-my-sins-with-my-heroic-death scene. Will the writers roll with the cliche or surprise me again?

They just left his guns on the floor outside his cell? I suppose they were in a tearing hurry and it seemed safe, but geez-

uh. what.

what

I'm certainly surprised, writers. But not in a good way. *cough* Moving on for now -

That's a very fetching disguise, Neo. And a nice fire tornado.

ohshitohshitohshitohshit

YANG!!

You can't do that. I mean, they can't do that. Can they? No.

So volume 9 will be the rescue mission?

Penny, you're not staying on task. That's bad. Get the effing relic to effing Vacuo.

Where *is* the staff? She must've done something with it.

Harriet is as crazy as her boss. Please don't let them join forces again.

Annnd all Watts has to do is autopilot the ship to the most damaging place possible. Which will be...I dunno. The Mantle crater, with lots of people still in it?

Winter, out of the loop. That must be so terrifying.

...oh. Now that's a showdown I hadn't expected. I don't know that she can solo him.

What on earth is the point of getting the staff now, Ironwo- oh nevermind. Completely insane villains are boring. I liked him so much more when he had a logical but diametrically opposed perspective.

"Oh dear"? I suppose Oz has been through too many catastrophes not to stay calm, but that seems excessive. (Also Ozpin never actually volunteers any plans or ideas anymore. He must’ve vowed to stay quiet and let Oscar handle everything, but also I suspect he’s lost all confidence in himself. And possibly was never all that good at crisis plans in this incarnation.)

They did clearly say one-way. I don't think this can be blamed on Ambrosius.

And here come the Grimm. Flying monkeys, your moment has arrived at last!

Er. ...Housing the refugees won't be nearly as big a problem if most of them are dead? I'm still totally unclear on how many people were in Atlas and Mantle, never mind how many have come through the portal vs. are in gatespace vs. are still back in the frozen north. The sandstorm conveniently obscures everything, so we could be looking at hundreds or thousands of casualties. Not much of a survival rate unless the Vacuo cavalry is right around the corner.

Oh duh, Watts is sending the bomb to the Vault. Which no longer strategically matters with the staff gone, but Ironwood is there, and who could resist the ultimate fuck-you of blowing him up with his own bomb?

Yep. That there was some penultimate-episode doom. It's going to take a bit for all this to sink in.

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby v8 spoilers #rwby v8e13 #rwby v8e13 spoilers #rwby volume 8 spoilers

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dailytafsirofquran · 3 years ago

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Tafsir Ibn Kathir: Surah Al-Baqarah Ayah 125

In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful.

125. And (remember) when We made the House (the Ka`bah at Makkah) a place of resort for mankind and a place of safety. And take you (people) the Maqam (place) of Ibrahim (or the stone on which Ibrahim as a place). And We commanded Ibrahim (Abraham) and Ismail (Ishmael) that they should purify My House (the Ka`bah at Makkah) for those who are circumambulating it, or staying (Itikaf), or bowing or prostrating themselves (there, in prayer).

The Virtue of Allah's House

Allah says;

And (remember) when We made the House (the Ka`bah at Makkah) a place of resort for mankind and a place of safety. And take you (people) the Maqam (place) of Ibrahim (or the stone on which Ibrahim as a place).

Al-Awfi reported that Ibn Abbas commented on Allah's statement, (And (remember) when We made the House (the Ka`bah at Makkah) a place of resort for mankind),

"They do not remain in the House, they only visit it and return to their homes, and then visit it again.''

Also, Abu Jafar Ar-Razi narrated from Ar-Rabi bin Anas from Abu Al-Aliyah who said that, (And (remember) when We made the House (the Ka`bah at Makkah) a place of resort for mankind and a place of safety) means,

"Safe from enemies and armed conflict. During the time of Jahiliyyah, the people were often victims of raids and kidnapping, while the people in the area surrounding it (Al-Masjid Al-Haram) were safe and not subject to kidnapping.''

Also, Mujahid, Ata, As-Suddi, Qatadah and Ar-Rabi bin Anas were reported to have said that the Ayah (2:125) means,

"Whoever enters it shall be safe.''

This Ayah indicates that Allah honored the Sacred House, which Allah made as a safe refuge and safe haven. Therefore, the souls are eager, but never bored, to conduct short visits to the House, even every year.

This is because Allah accepted the supplication of His Khalil, Ibrahim, when he asked Allah to make the hearts of people eager to visit the House. Ibrahim said, Our Lord! And accept my invocation. (14:40)

Allah described the House as a safe resort and refuge, for those who visit it are safe, even if they had committed acts of evil.

This honor comes from the honor of the person who built it first, Khalil Ar-Rahman, just as Allah said, And (remember) when We showed Ibrahim the site of the (Sacred) House (the Ka`bah at Makkah) (saying):

"Associate not anything (in worship) with Me...'' (22:26)

Verily, the first House (of worship) appointed for mankind was that at Bakkah (Makkah), full of blessing, and a guidance for Al-Alamin (mankind and Jinn). In it are manifest signs (for example), the Maqam (place) of Ibrahim; whosoever enters it, he attains security. (3:96-97).

The last honorable Ayah emphasized the honor of Ibrahim's Maqam, and the instruction to pray next to it, (And take you (people) the Maqam (place) of Ibrahim as a place of prayer). The Maqam of Ibrahim.

Sufyan Ath-Thawri reported that Sa`id bin Jubayr commented on the Ayah, (And take you (people) the Maqam (place) of Ibrahim as a place of prayer),

"The stone (Maqam) is the standing place of Ibrahim, Allah's Prophet, and a mercy from Allah. Ibrahim stood on the stone, while Ismail was handing him the stones (constructing the Ka`bah).''

As-Suddi said,

"The Maqam of Ibrahim is a stone which Ismail's wife put under Ibrahim's feet when washing his head."

Al-Qurtubi mentioned this, but he considered it unauthentic, although others gave it preference, Ar-Razi reported it in his Tafsir from Al-Hasan Al-Basri, Qatadah, and Ar-Rabi bin Anas.

Ibn Abi Hatim reported that Jabir, describing the Hajj (pilgrimage) of the Prophet said,

"When the Prophet performed Tawaf, Umar asked him, `Is this the Maqam of our father?'

He said, `Yes.'

Umar said, `Should we take it a place of prayer?'

So Allah revealed, (And take you (people) the Maqam (place) of Ibrahim (Abraham) as a place of prayer'').

Al-Bukhari said,

"Allah's statement, (And take you (people) the Maqam (place) of Ibrahim (Abraham) as a place of prayer) meaning, they return to it repeatedly.''

He then narrated that Anas bin Malik said that Umar bin Al-Khattab said,

"I agreed with my Lord, or my Lord agreed with me, regarding three matters.

I said, `O Messenger of Allah! I wish you take the Maqam of Ibrahim a place for prayer.' The Ayah (And take you (people) the Maqam (place) of Ibrahim (Abraham)) was revealed.

I also said, `O Messenger of Allah! The righteous and the wicked enter your house. I wish you would command the Mothers of the believers (the Prophet's wives) to wear Hijab. Allah sent down the Ayah that required the Hijab.

And when I knew that the Prophet was angry with some of his wives, I came to them and said, `Either you stop what you are doing, or Allah will endow His Messenger with better women than you are.'

I advised one of his wives and she said to me, `O Umar! Does the Messenger of Allah not know how to advise his wives, so that you have to do the job instead of him!'

Allah then revealed,

It may be if he divorced you (all) that his Lord will give him instead of you, wives better than you, _ Muslims (who submit to Allah).'' (66:5)

Also, Ibn Jarir narrated that Jabir said,

"After the Messenger of Allah kissed the Black Stone, he went around the house three times in a fast pace and four times in a slow pace. He then went to Maqam of Ibrahim, with it between him and the House, and prayed two Rak`ahs.''

This is part of the long Hadith that Muslim recorded in Sahih.

Al-Bukhari recorded that `Amr bin Dinar said that he heard Ibn Umar say,

"The Messenger of Allah performed Tawaf around the House seven times and then prayed two Rak`ahs behind the Maqam.''

All these texts indicate that the Maqam is the stone that Ibrahim was standing on while building the House.

As the House's walls became higher, Ismail brought his father a stone, so that he could stand on it, while Ismail handed him the stones. Ibrahim would place the stones on the wall, and whenever he finished one side, he would move to the next side, to complete the building all around. Ibrahim kept repeating this until he finished building the House, as we will describe when we explain the story of Ibrahim and Ismail and how they built the House, as narrated from Ibn Abbas and collected by Al-Bukhari.

Ibrahim's footprints were still visible in the stone, and the Arabs knew this fact during the time of Jahiliyyah.

This is why Abu Talib said in his poem known as Al-Lamiyyah,

"And Ibrahim's footprint with his bare feet on the stone is still visible.''

The Muslims also saw Ibrahim's footprints on the stone, as Anas bin Malik said,

"I saw the Maqam with the print of Ibrahim's toes and feet still visible in it, but the footprints dissipated because of the people rubbing the stone with their hands.''

Earlier, the Maqam was placed close to the Ka`bah's wall. In the present time, the Maqam is placed next to Al-Hijr on the right side of those entering through the door.

When Ibrahim finished building the House, he placed the stone next to the wall of Al-Ka`bah. Or, when the House was finished being built, Ibrahim just left the stone where it was last standing, and he was commanded to pray next to the stone when he finished the Tawaf (circumambulating). It is understandable that the Maqam of Ibrahim would stand where the building of the House ended.

The Leader of the faithful Umar bin Al-Khattab, one of the Four Rightly Guided Caliphs whom we were commanded to emulate, moved the stone away from the Ka`bah's wall during his reign.

Umar is one of the two men, whom the Messenger of Allah described when he said, Imitate the two men who will come after me: Abu Bakr and Umar.

Umar was also the person whom the Qur'an agreed with regarding praying next to Maqam of Ibrahim. This is why none among the Companions rejected it when he moved it.

Abdur-Razzaq reported from Ibn Jurayj from Ata,

"Umar bin Al-Khattab moved the Maqam back.''

Also, Abdur-Razzaq narrated that Mujahid said that,

"Umar was the first person who moved the Maqam back to where it is now standing.''

Al-Hafiz Abu Bakr, Ahmad bin Ali bin Al-Husayn Al-Bayhaqi recorded Aishah saying,

"During the time of the Messenger of Allah and Abu Bakr, the Maqam was right next to the House. Umar moved the Maqam during his reign.''

This Hadith has an authentic chain of narration.

The Command to purify the House

Allah says;

And We commanded Ibrahim (Abraham) and Ismail (Ishmael) that they should purify My House (the Ka`bah at Makkah) for those who are circumambulating it, or staying (Itikaf), or bowing or prostrating themselves (there, in prayer).

Al-Hasan Al-Basri said that, (And We gave Our Ahd (command) to Ibrahim and Ismail) means,

"Allah ordered them to purify it from all filth and impurities, of which none should ever touch it.''

Also, Ibn Jurayj said,

"I said to Ata, `What is Allah's Ahd?'

He said, `His command.'''

Also, Sa`id bin Jubayr said that Ibn Abbas commented on the Ayah, (that they should purify My House (the Ka`bah) for those who are circumambulating it, or staying (Itikaf)),

"Purify it from the idols.''

Further, Mujahid and Sa`id bin Jubayr said that, (purify My House for those who are circumambulating it) means,

"From the idols, sexual activity, false witness and sins of all kinds.''

Allah said, (for those who are performing Tawaf (circumambulating) it).

The Tawaf around the House is a wellestablished ritual.

Sa`id bin Jubayr said that, (for those who are circumambulating it), means, strangers (he means who do not live in Makkah), while; (or staying (Itikaf)), is about those who live in the area of the Sacred House.

Also, Qatadah and Ar-Rabi bin Anas said that; Itikaf is in reference to those who live in the area of the House, just as Sa`id bin Jubayr stated.

Allah said, (or bowing or prostrating themselves (there, in prayer)), Ibn Abbas said, when it is a place of prayer it includes those who are described as bowing and prostrating themselves.

Also, Ata and Qatadah offered the same Tafsir.

Purifying all Masjids is required according to this Ayah and according to Allah's statement,

In houses (mosques) which Allah has ordered to be raised (to be cleaned, and to be honored), in them His Name is remembered (i.e. Adhan, Iqamah, Salah, invocations, recitation of the Qur'an). Therein glorify Him (Allah) in the mornings and in the (late) afternoons. (24:36)

There are many Hadiths that give a general order for purifying the Masjids and keeping filth and impurities away from them. This is why the Prophet said, The Masjids are established for the purpose that they were built for (i.e. worshipping Allah alone).

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southeastasianists · 4 years ago

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It had been two days since Hafiz last heard from Iani.

He knew that Iani’s parents had a history of abusing them [Note 1], and was worried for their safety. He’d tried everything — text messages, WhatsApp messages, voice calls — but received no response from Iani. It was as if they’d suddenly upped and left. Now his last resort was to make an unannounced visit to Iani’s house to make sure they’re safe.

Hafiz had a plan in mind. He would bring food to Iani’s house and pretend that they’d made dinner plans. It was something they did often, so he thought that that would make for a believable cover. At the back of his mind, however, Hafiz knew that this cover would be blown if something bad had really happened. Yet a half-baked plan was better than none at all.

Hafiz knocked on Iani’s house door and waited for someone to answer it. He heard some voices behind the door, but before he could make out what they were saying, the door cracked open. Iani’s mother greeted him with a strained smile, and Hafiz could see Iani’s father peering at him behind her. Hafiz knew that something’s not right.

“Hello aunty, uncle! I bought dinner for Iani, are they at home?” Hafiz said.

“No, but come in first,” Iani’s mother said, and ushered him into the living room. Iani’s father opened a Qur’an and started reciting a few lines of scripture to Hafiz. Once he was done, he passed the Qur’an to Hafiz and asked him to recite the same verses. It was an odd request, but Hafiz obliged; he knew why they were making him do that. After the ritual was completed, Iani’s parents told Hafiz that Iani had been admitted to the Institute of Mental Health (IMH) for emergency treatment of a psychotic breakdown. What they left out was that Iani’s breakdown was caused by “conversion therapy” sessions they forced upon Iani.

Hafiz rushed down to the hospital immediately. After two days of radio silence, he finally saw Iani again. But his feeling of relief was soon washed over by a commotion that erupted from Iani’s family members — they weren’t expecting any visitors. Iani winced at the noise and pulled Hafiz aside.

“Help me,” they whispered to him. “Break me out of here.”

Iani had been close with their parents since they were young. But things turned quickly and unexpectedly when Iani was 16. They were accidentally outed as lesbian [Note 2] to their parents, and before they knew it, the elders in Iani’s extended family started getting involved in organising “conversion therapy” sessions.

Iani’s grandmother and uncle came over to their house one day. It was clear right away that this wasn’t just a normal social visit; Iani only saw their uncle at larger family gatherings and celebrations. Their uncle is an Ustaz — a male Islamic religious teacher — and he made Iani sit in the corner of the living room. He then began calling out to an “evil spirit” in the room, and asked it to speak with the group.

It was a confusing experience for Iani, because while he made it look as if he were speaking with an “evil spirit”, it soon became clear that he was speaking directly to Iani. He asked a range of questions, and most of them were phrased to get the answers that he wanted to hear.

“Are you sad often?” he asked.

“Yes,” Iani, who had a medical history of anxiety and depression, answered.

“Do you feel like your parents don’t understand you?” he followed up.

“Yes,” Iani, whose parents wanted to put them through “conversion therapy”, replied.

The questioning went on for a while, but he never asked Iani (or the “evil spirit”, for that matter) anything about being lesbian. Instead, the questions were generic enough — as if by intention — that most teenagers at Iani’s age would answer the exact same way.

At the end of the session, he declared that Iani was possessed by a jinn — an evil spirit in Islamic mythology. The jinn, he explained to Iani’s parents, was responsible for influencing Iani’s sexuality and needed to be expelled from their body for them to become “normal”.

The session was mentally exhausting for Iani, because they had to suppress a multitude of emotions. First was anger: they felt that their uncle’s mixing of his superstitious beliefs with Islam was insulting to the religion. Then disbelief: Iani didn’t expect their father, who was well-educated, to be so easily swayed by his claims. Finally, betrayal: Iani had just witnessed first-hand how quickly their entire family turned on them.

But the benignity of the first session made Iani let their guard down. In a way, nothing could have prepared them for what’s about to come.

Around a week later, Iani’s uncle returned to perform ruqyah (an exorcism) on Iani. He made Iani memorise and recite verses from the Qur’an, and whenever the recital wasn’t to his liking — whether it’s done too loudly, too softly, or “not smoothly enough” — he would whip Iani with a rattan cane. Iani’s parents draped a heavy blanket over Iani’s body before letting their uncle beat them; they were careful to ensure that he wouldn’t leave visible bruises.

Iani’s uncle also made them perform sujud — a low bow, where one gets on their knees and has their head touch the ground. He then held a lighter to each of Iani’s feet as he recited Qur’anic verses to “cast the jinn away”. Iani screamed in pain from the searing heat of the fire, but their parents only saw that as a sign that the exorcism was working. At the end of the ruqyah, Iani’s sexuality remained unchanged, but their trust in their family shattered completely.

It soon became clear to Iani that the ruqyahs that their parents arranged were meticulously planned to ensure that the perpetrators could get away without consequences. When Iani suffered from a mental breakdown, their parents decided to call in an Ustaz for a ruqyah instead of seeking medical help. The Ustaz came over and restrained Iani while he performed his ritual. But when Iani’s father saw the bruises on Iani’s wrists, he immediately scolded the Ustaz.

“Jangan eh! Nanti orang report police! (Don’t do that, what if they report this to the police!)” Iani’s father shouted.

At the end of the session, the Ustaz told Iani’s parents that the jinn possessing Iani was there to destroy their family. This was a test of the strength of their family’s Islamic faith, the Ustaz said. He added that Iani really wasn’t lesbian, but only became so because of the evil influence of the jinn. This line of reasoning — a repetition of what Iani’s uncle previously mentioned — reinforced the idea that LGBTQ+ identities are inherently “unnatural” and can be changed. The Ustaz went on to instruct Iani’s parents to read the Qur’an together every night, and pray together as a family at least once a day in order to drive the jinn away.

Iani’s parents took his advice to heart and began intensifying their “conversion therapy” practices. Every day, Iani’s mother would force them to listen to syarahan (religious sermons) that focused on the “right” ways women should act, and how they should go about finding “good” husbands. Every evening since the visit from the Ustaz, the azan (Islamic call to prayer) at home would blast louder than before.

Iani’s mother also started performing her own exorcisms on Iani: she would put a metal bowl over an open flame, and claim that doing so would hurt the jinn. The metal bowl in itself had no effect on Iani, but over time, it started triggering memories of previous ruqyahs, and would cause anxiety attacks to set in. It appears that Iani’s mother never realised that she was psychologically torturing her already mentally unwell child. Instead, she earnestly engaged in anxiety-triggering activities, thinking that her rituals were working, and that they were somehow helping her child “get better”.

Soon after, Iani’s father made them watch a documentary about the story of Lut [Note 3]. The story of Lut is often quoted by Muslims to demonstrate God’s disapproval of homosexuality. At the end of the documentary, Iani’s father told them that being gay is wrong. This was the first time he made his stance so explicit. Iani was enraged, and argued that Allah also warned against rape in the story of Lut.

“Rape is everywhere, but being gay isn’t,” Iani’s father responded. “That’s why being gay will always be the biggest sin.”

As a survivor of childhood sexual assault, Iani felt like a knife was plunged into their chest. Iani’s father knew about their childhood trauma and how much it affected their mental health. Yet it seemed like he still believed that sexually violating someone else was more acceptable than being gay.

Iani’s existing mental issues, coupled with their parents’ relentless “conversion therapy” practices, meant that they spent considerable time with therapists at IMH. And even though Iani had been vocal about their parents’ abusive behaviours — even telling their therapists that their parents should be the ones receiving treatment — no serious action was taken against their parents. The responses Iani heard back were often along the lines of: “They only act like that because they’re muslims”; “They’re doing this for your own good”; “Some parents are like that”.

Even when a therapist was willing to talk to Iani’s parents about their “conversion therapy” practices, they would find themselves powerless in countering their beliefs.

“I’ve told your parents about sexuality and how it can’t be changed,” the therapist told Iani. “They know that what they’re doing is wrong.”

“So why won’t they stop?” Iani asked. “Why do they keep doing it?”

“They told me that they’re not stopping because they want to be better muslims.”

Iani is much older now, and no longer lives with their parents. They never reconciled with each other, and their relationship remains strained. Though it’s been many years since their last “conversion therapy” encounter, Iani hasn’t fully recovered from the trauma. Listening to azans could trigger anxiety attacks. Hearing someone say “Allah” would bring back memories of being beaten up by their uncle.

The concept of a jinn causing homosexuality might sound unique to Islam, but its main tenets are very similar to other “conversion therapy” beliefs. For one, a core idea behind the jinn’s possession is that people aren’t naturally LGBTQ+, but are influenced by external forces to be so. On top of that, the exorcism of the jinn is just another way of asserting that people’s sexualities can be changed. In those regards, “conversion therapy” practices across religions [Note 4] are more similar than they are different.

It’s important for us to understand that there is medical consensus that “conversion therapy” practices don’t work, and can cause long-term harm on participants (page 115). As we can see from Iani’s story, “conversion therapy” can lead to trauma that deeply affects the mental health of participants.

Many countries have taken action to protect people from the harms of “conversion therapy”. Taiwan has fully banned “conversion therapy” practices, while Germany has done so for minors. Other countries such as Canada, Israel, New Zealand, and the UK are considering legislation that would make them illegal.

Yet “conversion therapy” remains legal in Singapore. Many other teenagers like Iani may continue to be subjected to abusive ruqyahs and face long-term psychological damage. On top of that, Singapore’s domestic abuse laws allow parents to punish their child, so long as it’s done to “correct” the child’s behaviour (s64). This legal loophole means that many parents may be able to continue enlisting the help of Ustazs for “conversion therapy” with no consequence.

#Southeast Asia #Singapore #Conversion Therapy #LGBTQIA+ Issues

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missingartist · 4 years ago

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The Witcher’s Mate Chapter 18 Part 2

Ciri paced, cogs turning in her mind as she did so ‘And you had no idea she was Geralt mate.’ She repeats the question slowly as if she was hearing the fact for the first time. Her brain still could comprehend the gravity of the situation. Never in her entire life did she ever think there would be a person that would come between the weird relationship Geralt and Yennefer had.

‘Yes...I mean no… Geralt was acting strange. Possessive maybe, I do not know I mean he has been really moody and bear-like so normal Geralt just more…. I thought he was finally getting over Yennefer and found Adva. Triss put in place the whole tavern thing to get them together, but I didn’t know anything about the whole soul mate thing...Is that even real?’ Jaskier asked, scratching his head.

‘Apparently…. I remember Vesemir making me read something about it...’ Cersi spoke in a clear, crisp tone, ever the princess as she marched back and forth.

Soulmates where serious. A bond locked a pair together, even though unclaimed the bond was still powerful enough to cause major complication and anomalies, proven by the Jinn’s spell being broken and Yennefer unable to track Geralt down using any magic. It was certain the air around the house was far more potent than anything she had encountered in a village such as this. Adva as well as unusual, on first glimpse she seemed perfectly ordinary, pretty, perhaps a little more ethereal than most but nothing strikingly different. But on second inspection her eyes were vividly blue, not the kind of blue human had, they were almost neon in their brightness, threads of silver and green woven through the limpid pools. Her skin was the next; it was pale and creamy like buttermilk, but it shine to it, like the drops Yennefer put on her cheekbones to gives them a luminous quality, it gave Adva features depth, highlight the gentle sweep of her cheeks and brow, the arch around soft, plump lips and the incline of her throat and collar bone as it slipped below into one of Geralt’s blouses. Ciri medallion that hung between her breast did not vibrate but gave out a gentle warmth, indicating something unnatural about the girl, not evil, if it was it would be pulsing harshly against her skin just different. Triss and Geralt were right when they though her otherworldly.

Triss popped her head over around the door; corkscrew curls bounced from side to side as she glanced around the room. ‘Where is she?’

‘She is using my bath.’ Jaskier jerked his head back in the direction of his room.

‘Triss is happening?’ Ciri asked as the mage stepped fully into her room.

Signing, Triss leaned heavily against the dresser ‘Geralt has a soul bond with Adva. They are very rare, only ever seen one and not this powerful. I thought last night would have given Geralt the kick he needed to explain to Adva before Yennefer turned up and the bonding would have started. But that damn stubborn fool didn’t. God knows what is going through her head right now.’

The aggravated mage paced as the young Witcher had before her. Shoulders hunched and head bowed she move from one side to the other, her skirts gracefully sweeping the floor as she did. Even as elegant as she looked, it was funny to see how ruffled the other mage got when Yennefer appeared, Triss always seemed to get frazzled when either friends disturbed her peace. The woman who held together the lodge of sorceress from complete decline, withstood the torture of the Witch Hunters and even the blame for the assassination of her King still could manage the chaos that Geralt and Yennefer created.

‘What will happen if he doesn’t? Knowing Yennefer, she won't make this easy of Adva.’ Ciri folded her arms at her friend.

‘Thanks to Yennefer destroying the only copy of The Witcher’s Mate, I don’t know. The book glosses over most of it. It gives various accounts of 2 confirmed cases and four other possible causes. They clash and confirm each other. All I can say for certain is that if Geralt doesn’t bond with her soon, I dread to think what will happen.’

‘And how do we get them to bond?’ Ciri, felt a queasiness wash over was she asked. In honesty she didn’t want to know what or how Geralt was gonna bond, it would be disgusting, and she had seen enough of that between the two of them to last her several lifetimes.

‘The accounts detail the different ways, some very graphic. That why we needed to find out what Adva was before…but at the minute they can both bloody go on instinct. Both souls must be combined spiritually and physically to ensure completion. We must ensure they do or Geralt will lose grip on all control.’

The three looked at each other in a silent agreement, nodding as they did so. ‘If what your saying is true, why is Geralt so much more effected? How can we trust that this isn’t some sort of enchantment?’ Ciri questioned, carefully. She was ready to believe it all but still there were doubts, niggling little things that crept into her mind.

‘I did the soul bond spell myself; you can’t fake that sort of reaction to a spell. But I have been wondering that myself. Geralt reaction has been…unpredictable, to say the least with buying her and parading her around as his wife just among the very un-Geralt things he has done lately. It's possible whatever creature she descends from has a different reaction then that of a Witcher. Witchers, after all, have acute senses, so it is likely that they would be more sensitive to a bond like this.’ Triss offered as she pulled back her impenetrable mane of thick hair that flopped in her eyes.

Ciri nodded vigorously as she began to pace back and forth again, her mind whirling with questions and problems. If this was true, then they have a very complicated mess to deal with, and Yennefer was not going to be easy to distract from making trouble.

‘There you are.’ Triss smiled slightly as the woman appeared hesitantly in the doorway.

The shivering woman nodded slightly and pulled the flimsy robe tighter around her body, allowing the female Witcher to appreciate the other woman’s form. Carefully, Adva moved deep into the room, eyes trained on the floor, searching for anything to wear that didn’t look like it had been shredded. With a sigh, she relented, she had tried before her bath, and nothing had miraculously recovered from the attack. What few pieces of clothing she had where now rags, fit for nothing but cleaning the stove.

Wincing as she sat, Adva run the towel through her drenched locks, grimacing as her ribs protested violently as she stretched. The pain was of a dull intenseness, like a burn that rapped its way around her black and sides. The muscles strained to move with ever ruffle of the towel. Triss frowned tightly as she moved to seat beside her tentatively taking the towel from her and finishing drying the end of her frizzy mane before placing the towel to the side and gently poked and prodded at her. Just from her probing digit she could feel the blood seep under her skin and through her tissue, the fraction ribs girding painfully against each other as she moved. The force has fractured several bones and broken and few others. The bruise had started to develop, a stain of yellow, purple, and brown, a nasty thing but it could have been a lot worse. It should have been a lot worse. Triss knew Yennefer long enough to know that she had meant to kill Adva, slam her through the floor so hard it would snap her in two. Yet, Adva remained relatively unharmed, nothing that would heal soon. A human would have died on impact or soon after from their injuries, Adva’s physical resilience was only to further prove her inhumanity.

‘Drink this… You have some internal bleeding and a few cracked ribs.’ Triss commanded slowly as she quickly placed the red phial to the girl's lips and poured its contents down her throat as she continued to speak. ‘Adva, I know everything is very confusing right now, but everything will be explained. I promised. Do you need anything now?’ Adva pulled her head away as she swallowed the sour contents.

‘Can I borrow some clothes, mine have all been destroyed.’ Adva asked, is a strangely even tone, refusing to look at her tutor.

Triss frowned across at the two others, who in turn frown back at her.

‘Here…you a bit bigger than me, but these should fit.’ Ciri smiled and pulled a skirt and blouse from her bindle.

They were not like the ones Geralt had given her; these were similar to what Ciri wore now. A white blouse and a brown skirt with some sort of blue braided leather belt that held the two pieces of clothing together. Ciri was a lot slimmer than her, but the clothing was untailored and basic, it would be a squeeze, but these would do. Smiling, she mumbled a quick thank you. The white-haired girl smiled back at her. Sincerely, it was a warm, kind smile, unlike the cruel smile of Yennefer.

‘We will be downstairs, come down when you are dressed.’ Triss gently sighed as she left, pulling Ciri with her.

Jaskier hung back for the briefest moment, his eyes danced along with her feature, his eyes swimming with emotion as he leaned down to press a short kiss to her forehead before leaving her to dress.

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As soon as Ciri stepped foot in the room, Geralt clambered to his feet, push Yennefer away as she reapplied the paste to the markings. ‘How is she?’

‘Hurt and confused.’ Ciri puffed out, folding her arms, casting an annoyed look in Yennefer direction.

‘Fuck’ Geralt snarled, grabbing the edge of the mahogany table and with little effort threw it clear across the room. Glass smashed and metal clangoured against the marble floor that sent out a piecing rattle throughout the house.

‘There goes my 500-year-old table from the halls of Vintcorn. Thank you. Geralt…this is why I can't have nice things.’ Triss sighed as a furious bard barged past her and towards the stair well.

‘You! Have you seen what you did to her? Throwing Geralt away and then when he has found someone better, you come in screaming and kicking like a toddler who has found something else with their toy. Why can’t you just leave him alone.’ Jaskier raged, a red hue descending across his face as he prodded a finger at the puple eyes mage

‘Me? I have done nothing but push an upstart down a few pegs.’ Yennefer snapped, slapping his hands away.

‘She has broken ribs Yennefer’Ciri counted, coming to Jaskier side as she glared Yennefer down.

‘Please like she won't heal.’ Yennefer rolled her eyes as she scooped up another glob of goo and reapplied it to the writing across his skin, letting her hands wander inside of his tunic as she drew more magical etching against his pec.

The long shallow breathes she took keeping the bile from rising her throat caught in her windpipe as her eyes fell against the scene before her. Yennefer in all her beauty had herself pressed up against Geralt, hand burrowing deep in her chest, writing in some strange language. Every visible inch of his skin was covered in blue signs. The purple-eyed mages smirked across at her as she scooped up and a dollop of slim and smeared it on a mark near his shoulder. The shoulder that she had gripped when he brought her to the peak of ecstasy the night before. Had he told her? Had they laughed together? Swallowing back bile, she fought the urge to flee, her promised herself to endure and survive. Adva quickly moved to stand behind the bard, her eyes slide from the tender scene in front of her and suddenly found the wooden floorboard in front of her captivating, ignoring the five pairs of eyes that followed her every move.

Geralt eyes frowned at her, brows furrowing as he took in her form, dejected and cowardly. ‘Fuck! Adva, please. Let me …’ Geralt urged forward but halted as Adva flinched away, gripping Jaskier arm tightly as she looked away.

‘Maybe Adva can show me around the Garden...’ Ciri suggested through gritted teeth at Yennefer, who smirked triumphantly as the girl was pushed through the door and into the garden, leaving a desperate Witcher behind.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The garden was bigger than what Ciri had expected. It was like the garden of the palace in Cintra, the one in her keep. It was filled with blue and yellow roses, that gave off sweet scents and attracted the bees and songbirds. Triss’s garden however had thick slabs of bush that were carefully woven into a maze, the entrance of which was guarded by glisten fountain that gushed out sparkling clear water. Squirrels squeak and frogs leapt as they perched themselves on the edge of the fountains wall. The house could just be made out in the distance sounds of shouting, and smashing could be heard. Geralt growls were distinct against the sound of screams and breaking furniture. Triss could just be heard over the noise appealing for calm why a shrill scream had to be Jaskier, attempting to dodge the flying rages of the group.

‘I think maybe I should leave before….’Adva started but was cut of by Triss.

‘Before Yennefer pushes you through the wall again? Don’t worry, Geralt wouldn’t let that happen. Should have seen him after, though he was gonna slice Yennefer in two.’ Ciri laughed as lounged on the wall of the fountain, gazing about her.

Adva stared at the apprehensively at the water; fingers brushed the rubbery leaves of the lily pads, as they floated on the top of the calm water. Ciri could positively see the cogs turning in her head as she stared into the water, gnawing on the bottom of her lip. Curls frizzed in the gentle heat of the noon sun, the skirt and blouse she wore made her look paler, almost haunted but the way Yennefer had acted this morning and then how she draped herself over Geralt would be enough to make anyone look haunted. Especially after what they had done the night before.

‘Where are you from originally?’ Ciri found herself asking as she settled herself on the border of the fountain. Elbows were resting on the knees as she gazed across as the woman.

‘Brightwater.’

‘Yes… I remember Jaskier saying Geralt brought you from the whorehouse there… remind her to have a word with him about buying people later.’ Ciri muttered darkly. ‘Where you are a whore?’

A strained laugh fell from her lips. Nothing that interesting. Just a kitchen maid….I make really good roast lamb.’

‘You will have to make it for me one time.’ Ciri smiled across at her, but the smile turned into a frown as the woman once again retreated into herself.

The silver wolf vibrated against her breast as a surge of water rose from the fountain and whirl behind the blue eye’s woman. The mass rippled and swirled in a globe of tinted blue water. Ciri fingers inched towards her blade but watched in fascination as the woman began to curl the water up from the fountain.

‘How do you do that?’ Ciri gasped.

‘Do what? ’Adva blinked up in confusion.

‘That…the water crafting. Did Triss teach you.’ Ciri gushed with childish glee.

Water control was something Ciri never had the time or patient to master. It requires skill and patience, harmony with one's self and the element around them. Of all the element, water was the most prestigious for a mage to have control over. Vesemir has once tried to explain that fire magic was the easiest, the simplest mage could conjure a fireball, but it took skill to master the other 3. Air is the second easiest, then earth and water. Ciri ear still burnt from her old teacher boiling retort when she had attempted to argue that surely the earth element was harder to control as with water was need for the earth. However, she still remembers is speech. ‘Foolish child, you have proved me right. Water is at the centre of everything; without water, there would be nothing.’ Being the Lady of Time and Space, she merely rolled her eyes and left Vesemir to grumble away, determined to prove him wrong. Fire had been easy. Wind slightly harder. Earth was complex, and the weaker charm had been hard work, the more complex charms had been a struggle. Water was near impossible; she had managed to conjure a limp wave of stagnant water that dropped mid-air and left her hand numb for a week. Yennefer was an expert in fire and air, somewhat compliant at the earth, she had seen the flowers bloom and wither under her control but water she had never seen Yennefer attempt.

‘Oh, I…I have always been able to this. I am sure your much better at it than me. Triss is teaching me other stuff though, she is really good at teaching.’ Adva smiled and rolled the water in the air.

For a moment they both watched as the water bent to the will its master, transforming from one shape to the next. The shining mass of liquid rippled and squirmed as it was pulled this way and that, at moments it appeared to billow into a thick mist before becoming solid again.

‘Who was your teaching before Triss?’ Ciri asked, once again breaking the silence.

Adva paused for a moment, she was hesitant. Before leaving Brightwater, no one asked her anything. The questions made her uncomfortable and exposed, but she did not want to lie or ignore the question. ‘I didn’t really have a teacher…. I learnt what I could from books. Cersi sort of gave me the odd bit of help when she was not at court. I think that why Lord Brightwater let me do some healer work, she was too busy.’ Adva snorted lightly as the ball of water churned harder and faster.

‘Cersi of White Orchard? Yennefer talks about her some time, a brilliant woman, a mother figure to all.’ Ciri did not need her Witcher senses to see the sadness that flicked in the girl's eyes.

‘You must miss your family and friends badly.’ Ciri muttered slowly, watching the woman with great interest.

‘I am an orphan and didn’t have any friends. I thought I had the girls in the Brothel and Cersi, but they ended up selling me to Geralt for 550 coins…. Nesta tried to help, she was lovely. I do miss her. I hope she okay.’ The water crafter choked out, turning her head away to gaze at the billowing water, frizzy curly obscuring her from the other woman view.

‘I’m an orphan too.’

Adva smiled sadly toward her ‘I am sorry but least you have people who care about you.’

‘You have them too…I haven’t seen Jaskier yell at Yennefer before. You must be special otherwise Jaskier would have hidden behind Geralt’ Ciri laughed, throwing her head back, body shaking in a belly laugh.

‘She won't try and turn him into a frog will she.’ Adva cracked a rueful smile, across at the blonde woman.

‘No’ Ciri laughed. ‘Geralt and Triss have got his back. Well…she turned Jaskier into a Donkey a while back. Geralt got her to turn him back…after a few days.’ Ciri laughed louder than she had in a while remember the sullen mule that wanders around for a day, who Geralt had tried to ride after inhaling two barrels of wine.

‘Adva.’ A rough growl echoed against the trees, sending a flock of nearby birds into the air.

Geralt matched out from behind a rose of bushes, closely followed by a pleading Triss. Adva had never seen her tutor for flustered that she almost tripped over her skirts. With a huff, the mage raced ahead as the Witcher was tugged back by a fierce-looking Yennefer who growled something into his ear as her purple eyes fixated on her. Geralt was, as always, a tower of muscles, pulsating with power and rage. Features stern, determined on his current path. Turning her attention back to the pulsating ball of water Adva gazed determinately at it, not even moving when Triss huddle around her, calling her name.

‘Listen Adva; I don’t know how much longer Geralt can stay in control, his body has taken a fever. I think it’s something to do with the bond and what happened last night. Don’t antagonise him; I don’t know what he will do.’ Triss pleaded to lay a tentative head on her friend shoulder.

‘How could you not tell me about the soul bond. I thought you were my friend.’ Adva flinched back, pulling her shoulder away.

‘Adva, please. We need to travel to Kaer Morhen to try and find out what you are then…from there, we can figure out what to do about the soul bond.’ Triss pleaded as she peak tentatively at the arguing Witcher.

Yennefer was growing more and more agitated. Geralt would not listen to reason, he refused to listen to her concerns, her pleadings, her thoughts, Instead, he remained moon eyed at the girl in front of him, pushing her away as she tried to help him. Jaskier as usually was no help, but he prattled on and snapped like a little princess. Pain surged through her as he pushed her harshly away, disgust etching his chiselled feature, as she fell into the dirt of the path.

Fury. Fury was the only thing Yennefer felt. She wanted to hurt the snivelling girl they way she had hurt her, break her heart, and toss her in the dirt where she belongs before, she crawled back into whichever hole Geralt had found her. Standing she brushed the dust from her dress, ignoring the sniggering from the bard as she focused on Triss who tended and mothered the girl. A girl who wielded water. Interesting, it would seem her prognosis was accurate, the little maid had no idea. She was disappointed in Geralt and Triss, they could see what stood right in front of their eyes, whatever spell she had cast obscured their logic.

‘Well, I can help you with the first thing. This little… creature is Mermaid. Did you never wonder what that funny little writing is in your book? Its sonic script…it what they talk and write in. And it obvious by the control you have on the water. Seriously Geralt calls yourself a Witcher.’ Yennefer scoffed, as she examined her nails with great interest. In the corner of her eye she saw it the girl curl into herself as she glanced from person to person.

‘That not possible, Merpeople can’t live well on land.’ Triss countered. ‘Not to mention she doesn’t have green skin or a tail.’ The mage snapped, pulling the girl towards her tighter.

‘I didn’t say she was a full mermaid. Maybe part mermaid part something else. Merpeople have a turbulent relationship with humans; she might have been rejecting by her pod. Then again, Merfolk is very protective over family; they only use banishment as punishment for the worst kinds of crimes. Besides, they are fiercely secretive, they wouldn’t cast a child into the human land, especially with such an important book. But then again, they could have gotten sick of her and cast her off onto the land, hoping she would die or get killed by the townsfolk.’ Yennefer said with such glee, Adva practically felt her word piece through her, causing her to shrink back in hurt.

‘Why are you being so horrid.’ Ciri yapped, wrapping her arms around her the shivering girl as Triss stood and advance upon her friend.

‘I am not the one who jumped onto the bed of someone who brought her from a whore house.’ Yennefer quipped, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow and removing a golden cylinder from her press and reapplying her crimson smile.

‘I seem to remember you jumping on Geralt about an hour after you met him. Adva has known Geralt for three months and is a far more decent person that you will ever dream of being.’ Jaskier snapped as she sat the other side of the shivering woman and wrapped his own arms around her, replacing where Triss had previously sat.

‘What was that you are ageing, talentless hack.’ Yennefer sneered at the young bard.

‘Aging! I have been told I could pass for a youth of eighteen. Your just bitter because you have been cast aside for someone more beautiful, intelligence and kinder than you could ever be.’ Jaskier all but spat at her.

‘What did you say wretch?’ Yennefer growled slowly advancing toward the bard, but despite his fearful eyes, he remained unmoving at Adva’s side, but the strong Witchers arms held her from her death march.

‘Oh, I see, the little fish playing both sides. What was it bedding the bard before the Witcher? Well, that proves it…they do say Mermaids are oversexed.’ Yennefer spat, a cruel smile as she prodded and goaded the poor girl who, stared wide eyes at the pair. Eyes shining as silent tears escaped her eyes.

Yennefer smiled as she turned in the Witchers arms ‘If I had of known you wanted something to share with Jaskier I would have offered gladly…his mouth must be good at something.’ She purred stocking his chest affectionately.

‘Yennefer stop! Kaer Morhen has the most extensive collection of lore on creatures. We might be able to find something that could help us determine whether Adva is a Mermaid on not.’ Triss offered, conjuring a green portal in the base of some bushes.

‘Sounds good to me.’ Jaskier proclaimed standing. Anything that gets me away from her. Ciri and I will take Adva by a portal; you can do whatever you damn well want.’ Jaskier waved a hand dismissively and flounced of pulling Adva with him.

Adva stumbling to keep up with the singer’s long strides. For a moment, her eyes latched on to Geralt’s, whose eyes oozed feeling and emotion, brimming with a…. sadness and pain. They were so intense she had to look away and curled in the singer hold. Memories of last night flashed through her mind, the grunt and groans as I moved over her. They way he manipulated her body into a puddle of pleasure. It angered her that she wanted to run back into her arms and beg, for what she wasn’t sure but she wanted to beg to stay, plead with him that she was human and shouldn’t be sent away. But she forced herself to look into the portal but not before she caught the glimpse of something. On the edge of the gardens board she though she saw a hooded figure cloaked the shadow of the tree smirking at her.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

This was supposed to come to yesterday, but Yennefer is annoying! Out of curiosity, what do people think of Yennefer overall? I have had some interesting discussion about her as a character with a few people on here. I have read the books, watched the tv show and played the game, and I can't shake my dislike her character. I really want to like her, I sympathise with what she went through and understand why she is the way she is but she so unpleasant and aggressive and I can’t work my head around her and Geralt relationship. I always think Triss is a better match then Yennefer. Yennefer is an amazingly strong character but sometimes really needs to understand the world doesn’t revolve around her, and people won’t always do as she wants. I do see a chink of amazing personality before she reverts to her normal self.

I would love to know what you think. I know there is a lot of dialogue but I felt like it needed it with the introduction of Ciri/Yennefer and the Mermaid story line.

https://missingartist95.tumblr.com/post/620733176788189184/the-witchers-mate-chapter-18-part-one

@fandom-lover-4 @sageandberries-png @wastingmypotential @luxyash @whitespring21 @ayamenimthiriel @crazynocturnalkiki @wonderlandfandomkingdom @shesthelastjedi @broco8 @introvertedmouse @threepupsinapuddle @pastelblogsposts

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shannapage · 4 years ago

Text

Stellae: Chapter 1

Author: Shanna Page

Status: Incomplete / Ongoing

Genre: Fantasy / Sci-Fi

Synopsis: The gods do not exist. Divine intervention is only imagined by those too cowardly to act. No, we only have ourselves in this word. Ourselves, the weapons we wield and the evil we choose to tolerate.

Eline Ritvak is the most renowned thief in all three Kingdoms. Mentored by the infamous criminal, Nightshade, she lives by a strict code of honor seemingly at odds with her chosen profession.When the Prince of Nitenbeir requests Eline steal a sword for him, she is curious enough to accept on his terms. What happens next sends Eline’s world tumbling into chaos, and she finds herself on the run from the most feared man on the continent. All she has is a sword, a know-it-all bookkeeper and the realization that perhaps, they are not alone in this world.

Word Count: 5,782

Author’s Note: As part of my fundraising initiative on my other blog for BLM, I stated that if a certain number was reached, I would release the first chapter of my unpublished (non-fanfic) novel. Since this amount was reached, here it is! This is only the first chapter and I do not plan on releasing more on this website. Know that this fight is not over and we still have tons of work to do. If you can still donate, please do so. If you’re living in the US, ensure you’re registered to vote at TurboVote.Org.

More information about this world / my novel can be found here on my page.

Those who frequented the gambling dens of Kebasa had a saying they told to anyone who would listen; the most fruitful of grounds often bore the most teeth.

The saying was old, stemming from the antewalk, an animal known equally for its migratory patterns as a distinct lack of self-preservation. There was a game amongst children named after the animal in which the smallest of them attempted to cross a field before they could be tagged by the larger, faster children. If they were tagged, they were considered out.

The game was cruel by nature but then again, most things were cruel by nature. Every summer, the antewalk migrated to their northern breeding grounds through the Beir Mountains. If any place could be described as ‘having teeth,’ the Beir range was a natural contender.

Spiders as large as a person’s fist dangled from shoddy webs, draped across caves which housed the fearsome gargantum – a predator as feared as death itself, whose jaws could easily snap a cougar in half. Snakes the size of tree trunks hid in the canopy above before dropping ten feet to feast upon unsuspecting prey. Despite all these horrors, the antewalk continued to make the same journey.

To them, the potential goal of their breeding ground was worth the likely cost.

Much as those who frequented gamblers row viewed the potential for riches to be worth its likely cost – bankruptcy.

It might be worth noting that the antewalk were nearly extinct.

Regardless, the gambling dens of Kebasa drew a multitude of customers, not only its regulars who sought to turn copens to riches. The dens were famous across the vast continent of Prima – and even further than that, drawing attention past the Farephen Sea. Merchants, nobles, and paupers alike were drawn to the gamble and in this way, the dens were amongst the most diverse places on the continent.

Lounged in a seat, one leg crossed over the other, Eline considered the Merryweather laid out before her.

Contrary to its name, the Merryweather was neither a cheerful place, nor was it exposed to the elements. As far as gambling dens went, the interior was much of what Eline had come to expect – crooked tables, crooked people, and an overwhelming stench of spilled ale in between.

At a first glance, she counted seven people in the crowd who did not belong. They were easy enough to spot, once one knew what to look for. Although Eline herself was not Kebasan, she blended in as though she might have been. Her gaze lingered near the bar, assessing a lone, pockmarked youth who glanced longingly at the door. Likely, someone had said this would be the easiest way to escape in case of an emergency.

Utter nonsense. Once a person entered the den, the only way out was further in.

Uncrossing both legs, Eline returned to her game. Casually, she tossed a gold coin on the table.

“Jinn,” she declared.

Murmurs of outrage rippled around the table – to Eline’s right a man growled, not bothering to conceal his state of frustration. The move was a provocative one, to be sure. Scarab was a game designed to confuse its own players, an eclectic combination of dice, cards, and boldfaced lying. It took several years to become proficient but luckily, Eline had learned the game from the best.

Jinn was a give me command. A player could use it only once per game, but once declared, all players were required to increase their bet or exit the table. By using it when she did, Eline had raised the game not by a copen – which was traditional – but by an entire talir. Such riches would have bought the very table they sat at.

“That’s not fair,” grumbled the man to her right. He spoke around the toothpick which dangled precariously from his lip. “Copen’s the norm.”

“It may be the norm, by my move wasn’t illegal.” Eline spoke with great boredom, as though the entire conversation were below her pay grade. “What’s the matter, Revani? Not good for the money?”

The man beside her started, not having expected her to know him by name.

Eline was no fool. She did careful research before deciding to enter any given situation; this was the main way she ensured she only walked into situations she could walk away of. Not everyone was as careful as Eline, but then, not everyone was as successful as her either.

Revani scowled and removed his toothpick. Much to Eline’s utter disgust, he placed this on the table beside her palm.

“I’m in,” he declared, tossing down a gold coin.

The hair beneath his cap could have been either blonde or brown; it was difficult to tell through its matted mess. The clothing he wore gave nothing away either; plain, loose fabric designed to resist the sweltering heat of Kebasa. The only hint of his heritage were his eyes, which were blue. Only certain parts of the southern Kingdom of Sur claimed such a color.

After much hemming and hawing, another two players tossed their coins down. The rest pushed back their chairs, scraping the floorboards, and casting annoyed glances at Eline.

Beneath her crimson hood, she tried not to smile.

Only four players remained: a more manageable number. A lucky number as well, according to Surnese superstition. Eline was not the type who subscribed to good fortune, but when she did, she found the Surnese gods to be most obliging.

Stretching, Revani extended both arms overhead to reveal a wrist tattoo. Foolish of him to flash his crew’s sign so carelessly since it was not the same colors as those of the Merryweather. Men had gotten killed for less than gambling on other crews’ turfs.

He was not the only player Eline knew at the table. To her left was a man who called himself Lorcin and directly across from them were two called Copper and Jo. Those two seemed to move as a team, one of them shifting when the other went still, and vice versa. Eline wondered if they behaved like this always, or only when they felt they were cornered.

Eline was the only woman at the table, although this was to be expected. Many nations and Kingdoms underestimated womenkind. Eline supposed she could not be perturbed by this fact, since it meant those same people underestimated her, as well.

In her line of work, underestimation was a valuable tool.

Lowering her gaze, Eline looked once more her cards. They were not terrible, but neither were they a winning hand. This fact did not bother her since the prize Eline sought was not a singular card game. No, her quarry was far more valuable than that.

Thumbing the sharp edge of her deck, Eline sighed. “Are you going to take your turn, Jo?” she asked, looking up. “Or will we all die of old age before you realize you’ve lost.”

A low chuckle rose from the other men at the table.

Jo – a man whose mustache was the most defining thing about him – scowled. “Don’t know why you’re trying to rush things, ma’am. Scarab is a game best savored, not swallowed.” He paused, allowing a smirk. “I’d imagine you know a thing or two about that.”

How clever; a reference to Eline’s assumed sexuality. She’d dealt with far worse jibes in her lifetime though and so, she ignored him and awaited his next move.

Copper nearly choked at the remark, forcing Jo to reach over and pound him on the back. Eline tried not roll her eyes at this, although it was hard.

Ko women were not known for being overly revealing and this was Eline’s chosen character for the night. Beneath her bright cloak, she wore simple merchant’s clothing from Ko, a distant Kingdom across the Farephen sea.

It was one of Eline’s preferred disguises; it was infinitely easier to pretend she hailed from Ko than say, one of the northern lands, like Dagmari. Dagmari women all had skin the color of the bone underneath, with copper-colored hair distinctive on every continent. Their accent alone was difficult to emulate, full of clipped consonants and elongated vowels.

At least Ko women had dark hair, even if their eyes were known to be golden, not silver. No Kingdom on any continent was known for silver eyes though, and so in this, Eline remained squarely out of luck.

Whenever someone asked about the unusual color, Eline would brush it aside and claim bastard parentage. Likely this was true, but she had no way of knowing for sure.

Exhaling loudly, Jo reached for the dice.

His resulting throw was not favorable and based on his sour expression, Eline assumed his cards to be no good. Ruling him out as competition, she moved her attention to the other men at the table.

Twisting around in his seat, Revani flagged a passing waitress. “More ale,” he instructed before turning back. Glancing in Eline’s direction, he offered a wicked smile. “What about you, Lady? Care to partake?”

The word Lady was mocking and belied his nation of origin. Although the three Kingdoms of Prima were monarchies, Kebasa was run by wealthy merchants, Nitenbeir was militaristic and only Sur had retained the notion of nobility – in more ways than one.

The use of Lady indicated Revani hailed from the south, although none of their renowned education seemed to have stuck. From where she was sitting, Eline could see his whole cards, and they were not particularly good ones.

“Thank you, but no,” she declined. “I prefer to keep my wits about me when I play.”

Revani’s upper lip curled. “Ah. Womanly concerns.”

“I’d imagine so,” Eline said. “As one must first possess wit in order to be concerned about losing it.”

Revani’s cheeks reddened, his entire expression darkening as Lorcin released a chuckle. He had been the quietest at the table so far and thus, was the only one Eline judged as true competition.

Shooting her a bemused look, Lorcin crossed both his feet at the ankles. Based solely on appearance, Eline assumed him to be from either Nitenbeir or Dagmari. Both were northern Kingdoms, so the complexions were similar, although neither wore their hair in the way Lorcin did – long and unbound, hung nearly to his waist.

He kept one hand beneath the table to conceal his cards from view; the other lay casually beside his untouched wine. Smart, to blend in while keeping his head clear.

Copper laughed, the joke just catching up to him. “A clever tongue,” he said, reaching to pick up his dice. “That’s a shame. Isn’t it a pity when women are clever?”

“It is at that.” Revani accepted the flagon he had ordered. “Clever women always get themselves into trouble.”

Outwardly, Eline betrayed no reaction but inwardly, she burned. What she would not give to have these men know her true wrath; to let them know exactly who she was and what she was capable of.

She knew if these men only knew her other name – if anyone in this establishment so much as whispered the word Umbra – it would make them shake in her boots and yet, here she sat and pretended to smile. To reveal who she was meant losing the upper hand, and in Scarab – as in life – having the upper hand was tantamount to winning.

“Indeed,” Eline said. “Clever women often make men uncomfortable. I imagine those without beauty are often discomforted to find it has a voice.”

Lorcin burst out into laughter as Revani’s scowl deepened.

Eline imagined that under different circumstances, she might have been able to enjoy Lorcin’s presence – a pity then, that her line of work failed to leave time for meaningful connections.

In the corner of her gaze, she saw the door to the Merryweather swing inward, allowing balmy, summer air to escape from the street.

“Shut the door!” someone called from the closest table.

All the gambling dens of Kebasa were housed belowground. This allowed for the coolest environment, since Kebasa was a desert city half as often as it was mountainous. A narrow staircase at the front led to the street; a purposeful decision to restrict entrance or exit.

In Ko, humidity and high waters made underground enclosures impossible. There, gambling dens were tied together like rafts, bobbing in sea at the ends of each dock. Eline disliked these types of places; the small amount of time she had spent in Ko was enough for her to realize she despised the ocean.

With the entrance of Kebasa’s heat came an actual person – several people actually, each one climbing down from the mouth of the alley. This was not unusual; men rarely chose to gamble alone. What was unusual was the way they all gripped the balustrade, as though uncertain whether the stairs could support all their weight.

Eline hid her smile. Make that ten men in the Merryweather who did not belong.

At least the first two men tried to blend in. They wore breathable fabric paired with the colorful vests preferred by Kebasa’s working class. Of course, most Kebasans wouldn’t wear such attire to a gambling den. Bright clothing was how one got noticed; it ensured one’s memorability and most who visited the dens preferred to remain anonymous.

The last man through the door didn’t even bother with a vest, though. His back stayed straight as he entered, steadily scanning the premises with an air of disgust. His distinguished sideburns marked him as a high-ranking citizen of Nitenbeir, as did the thin sword he had buckled around his waist. A rapier, much preferred amongst the dueling sort of men. Eline had always found the weapon rather silly, preferring instead the flexibility of her short sword.

It was the scar though, burnt into the side of his neck, which revealed who he was.

As far as legends went, General Marksam was known across the whole continent. He had been captured in his youth by Dagmari forces, held for twenty days and twenty nights until he escaped by fashioning a knife from his spoon to kill two guards through the door of his cell. That had been years ago, but the man’s name remained feared across Prima.

Nitenbeir nobility was strange; they dressed in severe cuts and sharp lines, as though to emulate their method of thinking. It was surprising to see one Nitenbeiran in a gambling den, let alone two, but Eline had been certain Marksam would appear tonight.

It was rumored the General had a fondness for gambling, which was something his Kingdom frowned upon – at least they did in theory. It was the Nitenbeir way to present no external weakness, but to privately indulge if they wished. Whenever Marksam traveled, he was known to clean out a tavern or two.

The Merryweather had a reputation as the highest of stakes, the most varied clientele, and a mostly discrete owner – for the right price, of course. Travelers had recently swelled Kebasa’s town limits for the summer solstice festival; Marksam was merely one amongst the many. It was the perfect opportunity for him to slip away, get his gambling fix and return before he was noticed missing.

Their group were stopped just inside the entrance, searched, and ordered to hand over their weapons. Marksam looked as though he argued with the bouncer, pointing at something on his chest which might have been a medal. He should have saved his breath for how much he succeeded. Eventually, Marksam handed over his sword, as Eline knew he would.

The rules of the Merryweather were simple – disarm, or don’t play.

Of course, the bouncers did need to find your weapons in order to remove them.

This was something of a game to the locals but people like Marksam were obviously unaware of the rules. It was proper in Nitenbeir for a General to wear their sword at their waist. The gesture was intended to show discipline, decorum and had absolutely no place on gambler’s row.

Swords around here came for their target in night, cloaked with darkness and ill-intent. It didn’t matter if a person showed their sword when one couldn’t be certain what they hid behind their opponent’s vest.

Shifting her weight, Eline stretched her toes against the worn pad of her boot. There were several knives concealed on her frame, since Eline had been forced to leave her short sword at home. One knife was hidden in the sole of her boot, another in its lining and a third strapped to the inside of her thigh.

The key to remaining armed in the Merryweather was to look unimportant. Marksam was obviously unaware of this lesson.

Flapping his coat out behind him, Marksam gingerly sat upon a rounded stool in the corner. His table was closer to the front than Eline’s – which meant the stakes of his table were lower and his game was considered easier. Eline assumed he would move further back over the course of the night; men like him were rarely satisfied with a cheap thrill.

His back faced the door – again, not what Eline would have done. His two comrades seemed to be smarter; they faced the only entrance, keeping careful watch on whoever walked through the door. Eline could only assume Marksam had hired them because they were more familiar with the gambling dens than he was.

Smart of him to seek out their guidance. Stupid of him not to listen.

Returning her attention to her own game, Eline scanned the table before her. While she had been distracted, Jo had backed himself into a corner. Only she, Lorcin, Revani and Copper remained as contenders.

Scowling, Jo threw his cards down to stand. “I’m out,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “May your pockets stay strong.”

Another idiom; this one easier to discern, if no longer applicable. Back when Kebasa was barely a town, trade was exchanged using gemstones as currency. The stones were so ubiquitous to its natives, legends stated they didn’t know their true value until neighbors from Nitenbeir and Sur reached them across the Imir desert. That was when Kebasa began to blossom as a Kingdom and eventually, coins came to replace gemstones as currency.

While in use though, the gemstones had been heavy and to have sturdy pockets meant you had been blessed with good fortune.

Downing the rest of his ale, Jo slammed his glass on the table and stalked towards the bar. The same pockmarked youth Eline had noticed remained slouched in its corner; Jo squeezed in beside him to order another round.

Revani added a second gold coin to the pile. “And what of that, Lady?” he asked, leaning back. “Are you good for it?”

He mimicked her words from earlier. Eyes narrowed, Eline moved to respond but before she could speak, there came a shout from the bar.

“Thief!” The pockmarked boy pointed, wide-eyed, at the door. “THIEF!”

The response around the room was instantaneous.

Jumping up from their table in the corner, both bouncers rushed towards the rickety stairs. Alertness swept through the crowd, jumping from table to table as players craned their necks to look. Many did not seem to care – they had already bet their livelihoods on the games – but many more flinched and scrambled for their purses.

Including Marksam, who instinctively clutched his right pocket – after patting it once, he exhaled and let go.

Hiding her smile, Eline returned to her cards. Fool.

“In,” she declared and added a coin.

Lorcin increased the pile without comment, throwing his dice and losing his next turn. Copper took up the dice and shook, glancing up at the ceiling before rolling a sixteen.

His smile broadened. “Reveal.”

Groaning out loud, Revani slouched in his seat.

The rules of Scarab were complicated, but the final player in any increase round had the opportunity to roll to end the game if they desired. Copper had rolled high enough to do just that, which meant the rest of the table was forced to lay down their cards.

Eline kept her face casual as Lorcin revealed his hand to be better than hers – better than anyone else at the table, including Copper, who looked a bit green as he stared.

Placing her cards down, Eline revealed her hand to be slightly lower than Lorcin’s. Revani’s was worst, but Eline had already known that before he revealed them. His cards held no coherent order, almost as though he had never played the game before, nor learned what it was. Eline idly wondered how he had gotten a seat at their table. Probably money.

“I need another drink,” declared Copper, standing up from his chair.

He wandered over to Jo, who still stood at the bar. The youth who had yelled thief was nowhere to be found, likely scared off by the events of the night.

Undisturbed by his loss, Revani spread his legs wider. “Care to play again, Lorcin? Or you, Lady?” he added, shooting Eline a smirk. “I would have the chance to redeem myself.”

Eline pushed her chair back. “Unfortunately,” she said, gathering her coins. “Redemption is not something I’m in the habit of giving.”

Scanning the den, she drew her cloak tight and wondered where to go next. There was no purpose to her cloak’s color other than to be remembered. At the end of the night, she wanted her face to be paired with this cloak in the den’s memory.

“I agree with the lady,” Lorcin said, also standing. “Best to quit while ahead.”

“Nitenbeirans.” Revani sighed and rolled his neck. “All of them the same. So meticulously practical. Very well,” he said, glancing past them to where multiple players had lined up on the wall. “Which of you wants to try their hand?”

Several rushed forward, eager to take their departed seats and Eline slipped past them, unnoticed.

The den was more crowded than when she had first entered, the dense scent of sweat and alcohol hanging low overhead. Elin scanned the room as she walked, coming to a stop beside the wooden bar. Drinks stained its surface, blending into the varnish until it seemed part of its décor.

In the corner of her eye, she saw Marksam stand from his seat. One hand splayed to the table, he questioned his players and glanced away from the entrance.

There were several halls which led from the back of the Merryweather. One of them ended in a stairwell which climbed to other floors of the building. As it was with the rest of gambler’s row, the Merryweather was not only a place in which to take bets. Its owner, Ren Drago, dabbled in various illicit activities throughout Kebasa; the main floor was merely the tip of the iceberg.

Marksam nodded at whatever his table said, turning around to disappear into the crowd. Eline’s gaze followed him to the back where he entered a hallway marked with a green arrow. Its interior was dimly lit, she could barely see his cloak whipping around the cramped corner.

Eline waited a moment, then slipped behind a group of players to remove her cloak and pull it on inside-out. The other side was dark, a coarser material not unlike that of the other gambling patrons. Lowering the hood, she moved out from the men who hid her from view.

Anyone who saw her would fail to place her as the gambler in red. Another trick from the thieves’ manual – create a memorable character, then become someone else. No one followed Eline as she moved towards the same back hall, which meant no one would remember her as the person Marksam encountered.

He was not difficult to spot once Eline reached the hall. He stood out even amongst the shadows, glancing about him with a puzzled look on his face. It seemed not even the advice of his table had been enough to locate the washroom.

Eline paused before entering, reaching out to puck a flagon of ale from a table. Adopting an intoxicated swagger, she raised the cup to her lips as she pretended to drink.

The light from a singular gas lamp dimmed when she passed, the hood of her cloak blocking out most illumination. Said lamp swung from above her, attached to the weathered ceiling; all sconces in the hall had been pilfered, their metal likely stolen and sold to melt down into wares.

Hearing Eline’s approach, Marksam turned his head. Giving her a swift once-over, he apparently decided she was harmless and lifted a hand.

“You there!” he called out. “Madam.”

As though surprised by the address, Eline stumbled for some of her ale to slosh towards the ground.

Nose wrinkled, Marksam drew back as though he could smell the imaginary alcohol on her breath. Eline noticed he didn’t seem to be drunk – at least one of the Nitenbeiran principles had rubbed off on him. It meant he would be more aware though, which made this transaction dangerous.

“Are you familiar with this establishment?” Marksam’s other palm rested upon the hilt of his rapier. “Do you happen to know where one might relieve oneself?”

“Establishment?” Laying the Ko accent on thick, Eline came to a stop. “You’re out of your depths, soldier,” she laughed, ending the word with a hiccup. “This here’s no establishment, it’s a right pigsty.”

Marksam’s eyes narrowed at the title she gave him.

Nitenbeir social hierarchy was based upon military rank. Their system was complicated – overly so, in Eline’s opinion – but based on his attire, Marksam could be identified as at least a General. Calling him a soldier was an insult; one strong enough that in Nitenbeir he wouldn’t have been remotely out of line in challenging her to a duel.

And they had the nerve to call other Kingdoms savages.

“Regardless of where you think I belong,” he said stiffly. “I would hear your response.”

Lifting her drink, Eline’s hand trembled, more ale sloshing over the rim. “You would hear my response?” she mocked, mimicking his imperious tone. “Most people just piss down that hall to the left, I guess. That’s if they even bother to – ah!” she blurted, spilling the flagon down his front.

Marksam swore and jumped back, but the damage had been done. Brownish-gold liquid dribbled down his front of his shirt, seeping to stain the white silk underneath.

“S-sorry,” Eline stuttered, blinking at him in horror.

Marksam froze for a moment, staring stunned at his shirt. Slowly, his gaze lifted to hers. “You… vermin,” he hissed and lunged forward.

Eline cowered away from him, her right shoulder hitting the wall as she tripped on the end of her cloak. She cut a pitiful figure in the dark of the hall, both hands lifted as Marksam reached for his sword. Here he hesitated, chest heaving while he considered the pathetic figure before him. Eline worked to make herself seem smaller, hunching both shoulders as she stared at the ground.

At last the image seemed to work, since Marksam slowly exhaled and slid his sword in its sheath.

“Bah,” he grumbled, shoving past. “Filthy urchin. Not worth my trouble.”

Eline let herself be pushed, briefly gripping his cloak to steady herself – and then he was gone, disappeared around the corner. He left not in the direction of the gambling floor, but to the left, deeper into the den in search of a washroom.

As soon as he was gone, Eline straightened.

Trying not to smile, she slipped her hand into her pocket and ran the tip of her finger along the edge of a key. Here, at last, was her true prize for the evening. The entirety of the wealth played in the front room barely held a candle to the key inside her pocket.

It was one of twenty keys distributed by King Tulen himself, the ruler and monarch of the Kingdom of Kebasa. Each key granted entrance to the most exclusive level of the summer solstice festival; the highborn, an ongoing celebration to which only twenty people could enter at one time.

Eline had a buyer who wanted a key.

What her buyer needed it for, she did not dare ask, nor did she care. Eline had a job to do and that was all that mattered. After all, she more than anyone understood people often did desperate things in desperate situations.

Marksam was one of twenty individuals who had been granted a key. Each Kingdom on the continent usually received two or three to distribute. Marksam was considered important enough in Nitenbeir that the King had sent him in his place.

While Marksam had been distracted by the drink she spilled, Eline had dipped a hand in his pocket and pilfered his key – the very same pocket he had patted when the pockmarked youth at the bar had yelled thief earlier.

Yet another thief’s trick, and a widely effective one.

When a reasonable person heard the word thief, they immediately reached to protect their valuables. Of course, if another person – say, Eline – were also watching, said person would give away where they were keeping their valuables. All it took was a little distraction to ensure Eline stole the key out from under his nose.

She made a mental note to pay Jaspin, the pockmarked youth, double tomorrow for a job well-done.

Turning around, she strode down the corridor. At the crossway she turned in the opposite direction of Marksam. It would be a while before he returned from that particular hallway. Eline had purposefully sent him in that direction, since the corridor housed the back rooms where private games were held.

If no one stabbed Marksam as soon as he entered, it would take him a while to explain his mistake. Once he did, Eline would be long gone.

Paused at what seemed like a dead end, Eline came to a stop and lowered her hood.

Glancing above, she scanned the long grate in the ceiling – another common design on gambler’s row. Although there was only one way inside the den from the street, there existed another way out from the back.

It would be inconvenient for a den’s owner to barricade themselves in, along with anyone else they wished to trap. As a precautionary measure, most buildings housed a special exit: a crawl space between the first and second floors, just large enough for a person to move through while escaping to the next alley.

Glancing over her shoulder, Eline ensured no one was watching and backed up a few steps.

Bending both legs, she leapt to grab hold of a stone jutting out from the wall. Using the smaller crevices as handholds, she swiftly climbed to reach the ceiling above. Positioning her weight evenly on all limbs, Eline reached above to loosen the grate and push.

It clattered off to one side – frozen, Eline waited, but no one seemed to have heard. Re-gripping the grate, Eline swung her legs upwards and launched herself into the hole. Once inside the crawlspace, she carefully repositioned the grate in the floor.

Crouched to the ground, Eline examined her surroundings.

The space around her was dusty, as though no one had used the corridor in quite some time. Eline suspected this was the case; Ren Drago, the owner of the Merryweather, was amongst the most feared men in Kebasa. To break a rule in his establishment usually meant you’d break something else. There were not many a man like Ren would feel the need to escape from.

Not wasting any time, Eline began to move, carefully positioning her weight so she failed to make noise. It was unlikely anyone would think to look for her here, since the actual entrance to the crawl space was on the second floor, but it was better to be careful than dead.

At the end of the tunnel, Eline pulled a knife from her boot and went to work on the grate. Twisting the screws one by one, she calculated how much time had passed since she left Marksam alone. It wouldn’t be long before he returned – if she were lucky, he wouldn’t notice the missing key until he returned to his lodgings.

Removing the final screw from the grate, Eline jiggled it free from the wall. She hesitated a moment, listening to the sounds of the alley below.

Nothing unusual.

Setting the steel grate aside, Eline leaned out of the opening to glance at the ground. Nose wrinkled, she sighed. The grate emptied into an alleyway behind a butcher shop. Scraps of days-old meat were piled below, their blood trickling slowly to join through the cobblestones.

At least the meat would offer her a soft landing. Swinging both legs aloft, Eline held her breath as she dropped down from the ledge. For most people, this would have been a difficult task, but these kinds of feats had always come easily for Eline.

Straightening from her crouch, Eline immediately strode in the opposite direction of gambler’s row. Her footsteps were muffled, thanks to special boots Eline had designed herself.

Even if the alleyway was quiet, the city around her was not – each distant yell of laughter sounded at once too far and too loud. The dense, squatted buildings forced Eline to imagine she saw shapes in the shadows.

One hand drifted towards her belt as she walked; a pointless reflex, since her short sword remained at her lodgings, but she still found it comforting.

It would have been suspicious for her to run from gambler’s row, so Eline forced herself to calmly walk on. Each muscle in her body strained against instinct, yearning to be free now that the job was complete. All that was left was dropping key in its preassigned destination, collecting her money, and washing her mind of the memory.

Eline was good at that.

She was good at forgetting what she needed to forget, unseeing what she needed to unsee. It was why she made such a good thief, as her mentor once said. Eline could compartmentalize her soul in ways few even dreamed of and even while distracted, her senses remained intact.

It was how Eline heard the moment someone turned down the alley, their footsteps echoing hers around the sound of leaking pipes. Tilting her head, she listened as she walked, her stride never breaking as she pretended not to hear.

When the footsteps were barely a pace away, she exhaled and turned, yanking a knife from her belt.

Her blade was met with another, aimed directly at her heart.

The man on the other end of the sword smiled, his face hidden by shadow. “The famous Umbra,” he said, inclining his head. “I’ve been searching for you.”

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