#god when i die bury me in something cropped i want my tummy out for all eternity

[cowboyhorsegirl]

met gala this karl lagerfeld that excuse me but WHY is no one talking about the harley davidson crop top i thrifted today???

[lilysdaydreams]

Chocolates

→ Pairing: Corpse Husband X plussize!Reader

→ Request: hello i love you and your writing (firstly) i was wondering if you could write a corpse husband xfem reader who is plus size? i havent seen any of those lol but maybe she gets hate over it and wants to start eating better and working out with him?? you don’t have to if you don’t want to tho!!

→ Warnings: chubby reader, insecure!reader, Body Image issues !!! Swearing, Descriptions of Readers feeling really sad about their body + online hate comments on readers body.

→ A/N: Idk what happened with this. This past week has been hard and I've been really tired but I forced myself to write something. I dont really think its goof but I hope the person who requested it likes it :(((

~~~

You fell into bed, wrapping the blanket around you and rolling over onto your side. Work had been hard today, your manager getting mad at the smallest of things. You could hear Corpse in his streaming room, talking to the viewers. You and Corpse had been together for 2 years now, and both of you had finally decided you were ready to reveal your relationship to his fans. First, you'd simply joined him on stream, talking at some points. Then a few weeks later, he'd posted a photo of him holding your hand and tagged you in it.

Your followers had gone from your 450 friends to 53 000 strangers. And that was only on the first day. You hadn't been on Instagram for a whole week, too overwhelmed about all the attention. It was a Friday today though, so you decided you might as well.

You opened up Instagram and clicked on your profile, eyes widening as you saw the 500k written above followers.

"Five hundred thousand?" You whispered to yourself, not even being able to comprehend the number. Like sure, if you compared it to Corpses 2 million, it seemed small, but it's not as if you did anything! What reason would they have to follow you? You only had two photos posted as well, an outfit photo from your sister's weddings, and one of you drinking a bubble tea.

Quickly clicking on the bubble tea picture, you opened up the comments smiling when the first comment  that caught your eye was "Woah shes so pretty." You scroll slowly, your  smile growing bigger at all the  love that Corpses fans gave you.

"SHES GORGEOUS"

"QUEEN WHAT THE HELL STEP ON ME"

The amount of "CHOKE ME" comments were hilarious.

You chuckled at a few and scrolled again, reading another one.

"Why did he have to pick a fat girl?"

For a second, your heart completely  stopped.

"What the fuck," you muttered.

You quickly clicked on the replies, wanting to see what others had to say. There were people defending you and arguing with the user, and there were others who agreed with them.

“Yes omg do you se ever stomach? Ugh how can Corpse stand staring at that the whole day?”

“Bruh her legs 😂😂”

You sucked in a breath.

You’d never been thin, always a bit chubby and with a bit of stomach fat. You’d been very insecure in high school, always wearing baggy clothes to hide your body, but who hadn’t felt that way in high school. After it though, you’d been okay. You felt happy and Corpse always let you know that he loved your body just the way you were. You were pretty confident normally. Today though... today it felt like all of that confidence has crumbled. You kept scrolling focusing on all the comments that talked about your weight.

Throwing the phone on the bed, you got up and moved to the mirror you have in your room. Grabbing the cloth draped over it, you pulled it off, looking at yourself in the mirror. You can see every flaw the comments talked about. You can see your double chin, your huge stomach, your big thighs. You held your arms up, wincing when you see the fat on them. Your probably looked so bad when you waved bye to someone. Tears now gathering in your eyes, you moved the cloth back over the mirror and then went back to bed, using the pillow to muffle your sobs.

You knew you were being a bit stupid. Random people on the internet and their opinions shouldn’t matter to you. But for some reason, the words had really gotten to you, and all you wanted to do was cry.

A few minutes later, you heard the door open, and knowing it was Corpse, you pushed your head into the pillow even more, not wanting him to look at you like this.

“Babe,” he whispered, coming over and patting you on your back.

“Baby,” he repeated when you refused to say anything and that he could hear was your sniffling. “You okay?”

You sobbed in response and he let out a “Oh” and then pulled you away from the pillow.

You looked down, refusing to look at him because you would look like an absolute mess.

“God I look so bad right now, he’s gonna see me and realise how big of a fat mess I am and leave me,” you thought.

“Hey baby, what’s wrong?” He asked again grabbing you in a hug.

“Was it work?” He asked when you didn’t answer. “or did your mom call again?"

When you stayed silent, he let out a sigh and let you go, getting up from the bed.

You immediately looked up, and asked “Where are you going?" because for a second you felt like it was true.  Maybe Corpse was leaving you because of how disgusting you were.

He looked down at you, startled by your sudden question. "Just to get some chocolate and a blanket."

"No." you said voice shaking a bit from the crying, "I don't want chocolate."

"What babe, what the fuck?" He said softly, dropping back down next to you. "Baby what's going on, just tell me, I can't do anything if you can't tell me."

"You-You know your fans? They're amazing, right?" you finally said, hesitating a little.

"It's just, I checked some comments on one of Instagram posts and there's so many where they're just talking about how fat I am, or how big my stomach is, or how ugly I look," you said, your voice lowering to a whisper at the end.

A beat of silence and then;

"Oh baby noooo," Corpse whispers, grabbing you and pulling you into a hug.

You cant stop the tears from leaking out of your eyes and you bury your head into his shoulder. His hoodie smells like the bodywash he uses, making you calmer in a second.

"Sweetheart, you are absolutely beautiful," he begins, whispering into your ear. "Did you know that when I first saw you, I couldn't even speak? Like I legitimately felt like my mouth had been glued together, I couldn't form any words."

Heat rose to your cheeks as he continued on.

"You were like an angel, literally glowing, and guess what, I still feel like that whenever I see you now. When you come back home and you're wearing that huge hoodie and you just have the hood pulled up because its cold and the little pout on your face, guess what you look fucking gorgeous to me like that. And when you're in our bed, wearing shorts and a crop top with your hair in a bun waiting for me to make popcorn so we can watch a movie, god you look like an angel then okay?"

"Oh ah, when you're on your period, and seriously bloated and eating all the food, you fucking look beautiful to me then as well. Your tummy- Your tummy makes me so happy like look at this soft little baby. And guess what? I fucking LIVE for your thighs and you know that baby, like I will die for them okay? Your ass- well, we both know what I feel about that so I won't say anything." He ended with a chuckle.

You moved back a little, and he grabbed your face and rested his forehead on yours.

Taking a deep breath, he started whispering, eyes locked onto yours.

"Every single part of you is perfect. And I love it. I find you so sexy that I literally cannot breathe sometimes because of your presence. You're amazing and I fucking love you. What those people say on the internet, why the fuck does it matter huh? They obviously can't recognize the absolute fox in front of their faces."

Slowly he wiped the tears from your face, and returned the watery smile that you gave him.

"Chocolates?" he asked, still whispering.

You nodded your head, giggling as he ran to get them.

fin.

[turtletimewriting]

roceit? >w<

1. Who has the cutest tickle laugh?

I feel like I’m giving the exact same answer for this question but god dammed! Of course they would absolutely adore each other’s laughs! Roman has grown used to faking a laugh and just acting happier than he really is about whatever is happening. So to break through that and hear some genuine happy loud laughter makes Janus’ day! He especially loves when he’s stopped tickling and Roman keeps giggling minutes after. His giggles are just so sweet and joyful but the fact they’ll die down and then he’ll burst into laughter all over again despite not tickling him anymore!

But Janus makes a very big deal out of only evil cackling and when he’s with the others, he tends to only act serious and quiet. So to see him alone, frantically giggling and out loud key smashing when Roman wiggles his fingers at him! His loud belly laughter is the best of course but there is a special part of his heart that is reserved for Janus’ hissy giggles!

2. Who is ticklish in unusual places and where would that be?

Not really an unusual place but I cannot stress enough just how weak to leg tickles Janus truly is. He’s snek! Sneks don’t have legs! And so that means Janus’ has the most ticklish legs ever. It’s not a death spot or anything but everything from his knees to his calves to his thighs are incredibly ticklish! One big long tickly spot! Roman’s favourite thing in this entire world is when Janus wears his skirt (cough cough, I’m waiting mr Sanders) and that leaves his legs vulnerable to attack. He could be walking to the kitchen and he knows it’s only a matter of time when he’ll feel Roman attack his legs with a feather duster. 

3. Who gets cheer-up tickles?

Roman, absolutely. Janus recognises early on just how much work and effort Roman puts into everything he does and a lot of it is criticised or outright denied. Roman at first doesn’t see this at all. “It’s my job, of course I’m going to get turned down. Why would an essential part of my job upset me?” but Janus puts his foot down. After an idea is turned down, regardless of how much work it was, and sits him down for a self care session. Janus will pull him into his lap to receive all the tickles and kisses. Then after he’s all tuckered out, Janus will paint his nails. Eventually, Roman looks forward to having a hard day’s work rewarded with tickles and a soft session with his soft snakey boyfriend. 

4. Who takes advantage of the other one getting their arms stuck while taking off their shirt?

Janus is always targeted. His cape makes it harder to tickle his sides and even his tummy because Janus will absolutely curl up into a protected fortress of cape. So Roman has to pick his moments where he’s truly vulnerable. A perfect moment for that is when he’s getting dressed. The only problem is that Roman thinks he’s being sneaky but Janus knows exactly what Roman does. He has woken up before shouting “Oh wait! Are you changing yet! Wait, wait, wait! I need to get into place!” while he scrambled out of bed and perched like a pouncing kitten right behind him. Janus knows exactly why Roman targets him in the morning and if he takes a little bit longer to get dressed or be noisy so to wake up Roman, then that’s for his information. 

5. How did they discover each other’s ticklishness?

I feel like it would be early on in their relationship, or maybe before they started dating, Janus declared who could only date someone who he knew all of the weaknesses of. Roman who was just sitting there eating a breakfast bar is just like... okay? So he lists off allergies or just stuff he doesn’t like and eventually they work round to the question of “are you ticklish and if so where can make you cry?”. Janus then obviously has to doublecheck that he wasn’t lying. Of course.

In comparison, I really like the idea of Roman just presuming Janus isn’t ticklish for the longest time ever. Especially since Janus is more ticklish than Roman. I just really like the idea of Roman being gently tickled and him making some remark about how lucky Janus is for not being ticklish. But as he says that, he jokingly tickles over his knee. Resulting in a squealing Janus jumping fifteen feet in the air. I just like the exact opposites for their ticklishness.

6. Who can’t take tickle bites?

Roman but that’s only because Janus is the master. Again, he’s snek! Sneks are great are tickly nibbles! What’s even better is that Roman literally never expects it! There’s never anything that sets it off. He’s never particularly vulnerable but he still manages to strike! He’ll be lying in bed sleepily and then all of a sudden his boyfriend is buried under the covers attacking his belly. He’s making dinner and then an arm turns off the oven and tickly nibbles are kissing up and down his neck. Sometimes, Roman thinks Janus just likes having something to nibble on as they will be sitting there and he’ll nibble gently on his wrist before diving for his sides. 

7. Who has to be tickle-forced out of bed in the morning?

Janus. Both of them get up at a similar time but it’s during winter when the evil snek boi wants to sleep for 30 hours a day. To make it worse, Janus wraps up during winter, fluffy socks, five blankets and two pairs of pjs on at the same time- he thinks he’s completely safe from all and any tickles. Surely, right? Welp no! Roman is too determined to ever let that stop him! Every day he has to find a new way to penetrate the fortress of warm to wake him up. Sometimes he’ll tickle the palm of his hand, sometimes his little sock covered feet are peaking from the covers, the best days are when he can gently peel away the blankets and get access to a little scaley tummy. 

8. Who gives up in a tickle fight?

Listen... unstoppable force meets unmovable rock. Janus is way too evil to be defeated, do you not see his cape! Roman is way too noble of a hero to accept defeat, do you not see all his princeliness! Who gives up during the tickle fights is Virgil who just wants a peaceful morning and he storms into their room to break up the tickle fight. Both of them are crying with laughter as Roman squeezes his knees and Janus’ hands are stuck under Roman’s arms. Neither of them have the breath to tease or appreciate each other’s laugh. Good vs evil and it turns out both of them are too stubborn and ticklish for tickle fights.

9. Who is in danger of getting hurt when attacking the other?

Janus but getting hurt doesn’t happen often. His scales can be quite sensitive and so it’s easy to irritate them or leave angry red scratch marks. Of course, this results in Roman gently brushing over his scales which is so so so much more ticklish than it should ever be. In terms of when attacking the other, I’d say neither? Roman is aware of his strength and takes pride in how long he can sit there and just take the tickles. Janus simply squirms but when it gets too much his fight or flight response just shouts at him to turn into a snake and disappear up Princey’s sleeve. 

10. Who always provokes the other into tickling them and how?

Roman but I don’t think he realises. If I haven’t made it obvious by now, I’m in love with himbo Roman. I just love the idea of Roman loving tickles and unknowingly provoking tickles. In his mind he just thinks that people love tickling him a lot. He has no idea how walking into the living room wearing a crop top while stretching his arms over his head would ever provoke tickles. So what? He’s just walking around muttering away to himself about how his feet itch but he’s too ticklish to itch it. Why are you blushing so hard Janus? I’m just laying in your lap so my bare belly is sitting by your hands. 

[angstyaches]

Knots

Follow-up to this fic. Probably wouldn’t have happened if @mxnsterparty hadn’t asked if it was coming, which I’m so glad they did! I don’t have much more to say here except please read the trigger warnings.

Swallow the World: The Ouija Board Pt. 7

CW: death reference, abuse, trauma, disordered eating, starvation mention (implied forced starvation of a child; Shayne was ten when the Devines took him in)

Shayne frowned as Charlie laid a glass of water and a cup of tea on the bedside locker. He could only ever remember being brought tea in bed on his birthday or when he was sick, before his parents had died. He’d brought Charlie all kinds of things a few months ago, when he’d been so laid-up with a stomach bug that he could barely move.

“I’m not sick, you know,” Shayne grumbled weakly.

Charlie exhaled sharply as he climbed over Shayne’s legs to lie behind him on the bed. “If you think this is well, then someone’s been lying to you.”

Shayne groaned and pulled the blanket up to cover his head. The sharp stabs of hunger had been replaced with a slow, dull ache, not much different to the feeling he was left with two days after devouring and banishing a demon. The tea, and the soup, that Charlie had already given him had felt warm and pleasant on the way down, but now it was all growing cold inside him. He wished he’d forced down more of the bread to soak up the liquid, because then maybe it wouldn’t have made his stomach gurgle so much.

Still, he was grateful for what little he’d managed to eat, because at least now…

He couldn’t stop himself from wincing as he remembered the hunger, not just in his head but in his stomach too. He pulled his arms tight to it. It had come on so suddenly, like knives being pushed into his belly, and when Charlie’s flesh had been between his lips, he’d thought his stomach was going to rip itself to shreds. It had been so painful that Shayne thought he was going to die if he didn’t devour Charlie’s soul along with his flesh. When he’d realised what was happening, he had tried to make himself smaller, had tried to shake Charlie away with what little strength he had; desperate for Charlie to get away, but at the same time terrified.

Terrified that Charlie would go away.

“Hey, come on,” Charlie complained now, tapping Shayne’s shoulder through the blanket. “You’re gonna stay all curled up like that?”

Shayne let out a noise that could have been a yes or a no, or something in between. Even though he’d asked for this, the thought of accepting comfort from Charlie after what he’d put him through made him feel a little nauseous with self-loathing. The ache he was left with was not much worse than something he could survive a school day with, as long as he could sleep at his desk for an hour at some point.

He felt Charlie wriggle a bit closer, tugging the blanket out of the way so he could reach across Shayne’s body; his hand brushed over his arm, and Shayne shivered at the contact, unfolding his arms slightly. Charlie slid a hand over the front of the hoodie he’d let Shayne borrow.

“Um –” Shayne cleared his throat, trying to shift some of the guilt. “The pain’s not as bad as before. This is more like one of the normal stomach aches I get at school.”

“Really? God, you’re being put through the wringer today, huh?” Charlie’s breath was warm on the back of Shayne’s neck. It made him shiver again. Charlie must have taken that to mean he was cold, because he leaned in closer, moving his hand slowly back and forth over Shayne’s belly.

Shayne burrowed his head even lower under the blanket, tensing against a familiar, empty feeling in his chest. It cropped up whenever he couldn’t find the words for something he wanted to say to Charlie. Charlie had asked him to stop saying sorry, so now he was scraping around looking for whatever was buried under all of those apologies.

Charlie’s hand moved across the bed to tug at the edge of the blanket, making sure there wasn’t a draft. Shayne didn’t know why he did that, until he felt fingertips slip under the waistband of the hoodie, tracing a light line from his hip bone to his belly button before swirling up towards his ribs.

Shayne let out a sharp gasp, muffling it on the sleeves of the hoodie. He almost flipped over onto his chest, but stopped himself before his stomach muscles could cramp any harder than they already were.

“What?” Charlie asked, pressing his whole hand firmly to Shayne’s stomach under the hoodie. “Wait, are you ticklish?”

“Mmm, I don’t know,” Shayne’s voice was a little shaky. “Please don’t do that again, that – that fluttery thing with your fingers.”

“Fluttery thing?” Charlie exclaimed. “Okay, I’ll be careful, for now, but we’re coming back to this.”

“No, we’re fucking not,” Shayne assured him, though his heart was racing. He felt the clenching in his belly ease with the pressure and warmth of Charlie’s hand. There was something comforting about knowing Charlie was so close to him, knowing that if he rolled back gently, he would meet Charlie’s body rather than the wall.

“Shayne, you – you don’t have to answer me, but I’d like to know why,” Charlie said. “Why did this happen? Has it happened before?”

Shayne closed his eyes.

“Do – do they make you do this?” Charlie suddenly sounded like he was going to cry. Shayne wasn’t sure he could take it if he did. “The Devines, you – you said they expected you to be able to devour demons like your mum. So, what? They make you feel like you shouldn’t eat?”

“They tried to hold me to her standards all my life,” Shayne said, not recognising his own voice. “And to their own, too, in a way. Two years ago, they started letting me take care of myself. After they fostered me, they realised I couldn’t metabolise demons like my mum could, and they fed me like they were trying to wean me on to only devouring demons. It never worked, though, clearly, because I’m still like this. I still have human hunger, and the – the thought of being controlled by it makes my whole body sort of lock up.”

Charlie had fallen deathly quiet, and Shayne was out of breath. There were tears on his face, and on the pillow, that he hadn’t even felt himself shed. Shit. What had he been thinking, taking the filter off his thoughts like that?

He felt Charlie’s body trembling as he leaned towards him, chest against his back.

“And by ‘trying not to be controlled by hunger’,” he finally said, “you mean starving yourself.”

Shayne shuddered; he hadn’t expected him to sound quite so angry.

“I – I – I mean –” Shayne said. “It’s not always about control. Sometimes – I mean, recently, when I have to devour so many demons, it’s – it’s like hell inside my body. It fucks everything up, so I don’t know after a while if I’m just feeling pain, or if it’s hunger, or if it’s finally just… the urge to keep devouring.”

There was another terrifying silence, where Charlie barely breathed, and didn’t twitch a muscle except to release his hand and arm from inside Shayne’s borrowed hoodie.

“Charlie, I’m – I’m supposed to get rid of demons,” Shayne went on desperately. “That’s –that’s what I am. That’s what I’m for. I made a promise that I’d protect Mulberry, so you and your parents could be safe –”

“Right,” Charlie snapped. “And it never occurred to you that I wouldn’t want you to put yourself through that?”

“It’s – it’s not like that. It’s not… that bad.” Shayne choked back a sob that he didn’t feel until it was already high in his throat. Fuck. What if it was that bad? He’d never let himself think like that, because it seemed like the start of a hopeless spiral of thoughts, and he’d never felt strong enough to pull himself back up from the bottom of a spiral like that.

He thought Charlie was going to keep being angry, and that made the sobs come even quicker and harder until Charlie’s arms pulled him even closer, so Shayne’s back was pressed right against Charlie’s chest and belly.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Charlie was whispering, “Shayne, it’s okay. Breathe. You’re safe. You’re here with me.”

“I’m – Ch-Charlie, I’m s-sorry –”

“Sshh, no. Remember? You don’t have to say that to me anymore.”

Charlie held him until the sobs started to subside. Shayne drew a trembling breath. Crying had made the ache in his stomach even worse, like someone had pulled on a cord and made his insides cramp together. There was a pain starting in his head too. He felt a gurgle below his ribs, and a few seconds later, he lifted a hand to his mouth, burping softly against the sleeve of his borrowed hoodie.

“Sorry,” he mumbled into the fabric.

“Hey, what did I just say?” Charlie half-laughed, though his voice sounded raw. His hand traced back down Shayne’s chest. He lifted his head when he met Shayne’s hand, already pressed to his belly. “Are you okay? Are you going to be sick?”

“No.” Shayne stifled a gentle sob that refused to let go of his lungs. He moved his hand so Charlie’s could take over. “It just... hurts.”

“I bet your stomach’s in knots.”

Shayne nodded slightly. That sounded like a fairly accurate description of what he could feel in his gut.

“Thank you for telling me all of that anyway,” Charlie said, stroking up and down Shayne’s belly with the palm of his hand. He nuzzled his face against Shayne’s hair. “Just try to relax now, okay? You’re safe here with me. I mean that.”

Shayne shifted his weight on the mattress, leaning his shoulder further back against Charlie’s chest. His breaths were coming out more evenly now. His stomach still ached, but the little circles Charlie was tracing across his skin felt like heaven. Every now and then, Charlie experimented with even gentler touches, brushing them under Shayne’s ribs or around his belly button.

“Hey,” Shayne protested when it became clear what he was doing.

Charlie giggled; a sound he’d obviously been holding in.

“Fuck you, Charlie,” Shayne mumbled. “My tummy really hurts, and you’re just taking the piss.”

“Hold on. Your what hurts?”

Shayne curled his head forward. “Shut up. My stomach.”

“That,” Charlie laughed, spreading his fingers across Shayne’s belly, “is not what you said.”

“Who are you, the word police?”

“No, but they ask me on as a consultant sometimes.”

“Charlie, you’re so –”

Shayne tilted his head back to look up at Charlie. His blue eyes were dazzling, though still red from tears, just as his probably were. Shayne could swear there was something dark flashing in the white of Charlie’s left eye, and he was reminded again of that dreadful hunger, and of something he’d surely hallucinated in Charlie’s face.

A dark pit where Charlie’s eye should have been; exposed teeth that ran in a line towards his earlobe; swirling black veins under translucent skin; and that horn.

“Shayne?” Charlie asked softly, meeting his gaze.

Shayne blinked, surprised to see his own hand resting against Charlie’s cheek, his thumb tracing the edge of the bone running from the corner of his eye to his temple. His little finger was tucked under his jaw until he slowly slid his hand downward, towards his chin, his lips. He could still see flashes of the hallucinated demon, but that skin, those bones, were Charlie’s and Charlie’s alone, and they were –

“Perfect.”

It took a long moment for Shayne to realise that the word had come from Charlie’s mouth and not his own. Those blue eyes looked sleepy all of a sudden, and so did that easy smile.

“What?” Shayne asked.

“You,” Charlie whispered, lowering his head to rest it against Shayne’s shoulder. “You’re absolutely perfect.”

[basicsofislam]

THE COMPANIONS OF THE PROPHET (PBUH) : Ubada bin Samit (r.a.)

One of the notables of Ansar, who showed the greatest hospitality of human history to the Prophet and the distinguished group of people and who were his friends in his cause, is Ubada bin Samit (r.a.).

Hz. Ubada was among the Muslims of Madinah who were present in the First and Second Pledges of Aqaba, which took place before the Migration and who promised that they would be together with the Prophet in any case, that they would sacrifice their lives for him and they would prevent him from all kinds of danger. He was one of the 12 people who talked the Prophet personally by representing more than 70 people in the Second Pledge of Aqaba. Ubada bin Samit was also among the distinguished people who vowed that they would never oppose the orders of the Prophet and that they would obey him unconditionally in the Pledge of Ridwan, which was one of the unique incidents of the Era of Bliss.

When the muhajirs arrived in Madinah, the Prophet established brotherhood between them and the Muslims of Madinah. He made Hz. Ubada brother of Abu Mursad, who was one of the first Muslims. Ansar made their muhajir brothers their partners in their fields and orchards. They worked in the fields of Ansar and had half of the crops as partners. This cooperation continued until the conquest of Khaybar. When Khaybar was conquered, the Muslims obtained ample land and there was no need for partnership.

Hz. Ubada became a Muslim when he was 35 years old. The Prophet appointed him as a teacher for the students of Ashab as-Suffa since he could read and write. Masjid an-Nabawi, the house of the Prophet and the school of Ashab as-Suffa were close to one another. All of them were built at the same time. The Prophet dealt with the issues of all Muslims in the mosque and he took care of all of the issues, from the food to the education, of about 100 students in the adjacent school.

Once, somebody from Ashab as-Suffa whom Hz. Ubada taught how to read and write and the Quran gave him a bow as a present. He asked the Prophet about it. The Prophet said it would not be permissible for him to accept that present.

In the first years of Islam accepting money for teaching the Quran was not regarded appropriate since there were a lot of people who taught the Quran; however, when the number of the people who carried out the religious duties in the centuries that followed decreased, mujtahids regarded it permissible to accept money for teaching the Quran.

Ubada bin Samit took part in all of the battles with the Prophet. The duty of driving Qaynuqa Jews away from Madinah was given to Hz. Ubada.

Hz. Ubada was a shrewd and talented person. During his caliphate, Hz. Abu Bakr sent Hashim bin As and Ubada bin Samit as envoys to Heraclius, the Byzantine king. After they visited Damascus and had a long journey, they arrived in Istanbul. They approached the palace of the king, with their swords hanging around their necks. The people of Istanbul watched them in surprise and with admiration. They saw that the palace was shaken like a date tree when the visitors dismounted their animals by shouting, “Lailaha illallahu wallahu akbar! (There is no god but Allah; Allah is the greatest!)”

They went into the presence of the king. The king asked them several questions about the Prophet and Islam:

“What is your greatest word?”

“Lailaha illallahu wallahu akbar.”

“When you utter this in your hometown, do your houses not shake and your floors not collapse on you?”

“No, we have never seen it do something like that. We saw it here with you. It is nothing but advice for us.”

“If my soul liked it to leave my land, I would be subject to you and want to be a slave of yours.”

After this confession, the king sent the envoys to their homeland with valuable presents.

When Amr bin As asked for help during the conquest of Egypt, Hz. Umar said to him, “I am sending you four people. Each of them is equivalent to one thousand people.” One of them was Ubada bin Samit. Hz. Ubada, who worked as the governor of Palestine afterwards, spent the rest of life in the region of Damascus.  

Hz. Ubada was among the scholars of the Companions. He had very good knowledge of hadith and fiqh. When he stayed in Damascus, he taught people hadith and fiqh. He worked hard to make that region a place of knowledge. He narrated more than 80 hadiths.

One of the hadiths narrated by him is as follows:

Once, I was ill. The Prophet (pbuh) came to visit me with some people from Ansar. When the Messenger of Allah (pbuh) mentioned martyrs, he asked, “Do you know who are martyrs?” Everybody kept silent. The Messenger of Allah repeated the question three times. The people there still kept silent. I told my wife to make me sit up. She lifted me. I answered as follows:

“A martyr is a person who became a Muslim, migrated and died in the way of Allah.”

Thereupon, the Messenger of Allah said,

“In that case, the number of the martyrs of my ummah would be very small. A person who dies in the way of Allah is a martyr. Those who are drowned in the sea are martyrs. Those who die of tummy ache are martyrs. A woman who dies in the puerperum period is a martyr.”

Hz. Ubada bin Samit died in Ramla, which is near Damascus, in the 34th year of the Migration when he was 72 years old. He was buried there.

May Allah be pleased with him!