#we sent jala

[vivmaek]

POETRY FOR YOUR MOON SIGN

✰ my masterlist poems written by someone who has the same moon sign as you <3

☾PISCES☽

Edgar Allen Poe, A Dream Within a Dream

“Take this kiss upon the brow! / And, in parting from you now, / Thus much let me avow – / You are not wrong, who deem / That my days have been a dream; / Yet if hope has flown away / In a night, or in a day, / In a vision, or in none, / Is it therefore the less gone? / All that we see or seem / Is but a dream within a dream.”

June Jordan, You Came with Shells

“You came with shells. And left them: / shells. / They lay beautiful on the table. / Now they lie on my desk / peculiar / extraordinary under 60 watts.”

Toni Morrison, It Comes Unadorned

“it comes / Unadorned / Like a phrase / Strong enough to cast a spell; / It comes / Unbidden, / Like the turn of sun through hills / Or stars in wheels of song. / The jeweled feet of women dance the earth. / Arousing it to spring. / Shoulders broad as a road bend to share the weight of years. / Profiles breach the distance and lean / Toward an ordinary kiss. / Bliss. / it comes naked into the world like a charm.”

☾AQUARIUS☽

W.B Yeats, A Coat

“I made my song a coat / Covered with embroideries / Out of old mythologies / From heel to throat; / But the fools caught it, / Wore it in the world’s eyes / As though they’d wrought it. / Song, let them take it / For there’s more enterprise / In walking naked.”

W.B Yeats, The Lover Tells of the Roses in His Heart

“All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old, / The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart, / The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould, / Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart. / The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told; I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart, / With the earth and the sky and the water, re-made, like a casket of gold / For my dreams of your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.”

Louisa May Alcott, The Lay of a Golden Goose

“Oh! Be not rash,” her father said, / A mild Socratic bird; / Her mother begged her not to stray / With many a warning word. / But little goosey was perverse / And eagerly did cry, / “I’ve got a lovely pair of wings, / Of course I Ought to fly.”

☾CAPRICORN☽

John Milton, Sonnet 19

“When I consider how my light is spent, / Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, / And that one talent which is death to hide / Lodged with me useless, through my soul more bent / To serve therewith my Maker,”

Jala al-Din Rumi, The Guest House

“This being human is a guest house. / Every morning a new arrival. / A joy, a depression, a meanness, / some momentary awareness comes / As an unexpected visitor. / Welcome and entertain them all! / Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, / who violently sweep your house / empty of its furniture, / still treat each guest honorably. / He may be clearing you out / for some new delight. / The dark thought, the shame, the malice, / meet them at the door laughing, / and invite them in. / Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent / as a guide from beyond.”

Gwendolyn Brooks, a song in the front yard

“I’ve stayed in the front yard all my life. / I want a peek at the back / Where it’s rough and untended and hungry weed / grows. / A girl gets sick of a rose.”

☾SAGITTARIUS☽

Lewis Carroll, A Boat Beneath a Sunny Sky

“In a Wonderland they lie, / Dreaming as the days go by, / Dreaming as the summers die: / Ever drifting down the stream – / Lingering in the golden gleam – / Life, what it is but a dream?”

Dante Alighieri, From “Inferno”

“It’s the pain / of the people down there that empties my / face. / It’s pity / that you’ve mistaken for fear. / And it’s the long way / that pushes us now. / Let’s go.”

Victor Hugo, Tomorrow, At Dawn

“Tomorrow, at dawn, at the hour when the countryside whitens, / I will set out. You see, I know that you wait for me. / I will go by the forest, I will go by the mountain. / I can no longer remain far from you. / I will walk with my eyes fixed on my thoughts, / Seeing nothing of outdoors, hearing no noise / Alone, unknown, my back curved, my hands crossed, / Sorrowed, and the day for me will be as night.”

☾SCORPIO☽

Sarojini Naid, Autumn Song

“Like a joy on the heart of a sorrow, / The sunset hangs on a cloud; / A golden storm of glittering sheaves, / Of fair and frail and fluttering leaves, / The wild wind blows in a cloud. / Hark to a voice that is calling / To my heart in the voice of the wind: / My heart is weary and sad and alone, / For its dreams like the fluttering leaves have gone, / And why should I stay behind?”

Shel Silverstein, Dreadful

“Someone ate the baby. / It’s absolutely clear / Someone ate the baby / ‘Cause the baby isn’t here. / We’ll give away her toys and clothes. / We’ll never have to wipe her nose. / Dad says, “That’s the way it goes.” / Someone ate the baby.”

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Aftermath

“When the summer fields are mown, / When the birds are fledged and flown, / And the dry leaves strew the path; / With the falling of the snow, / With the cawing of the crow, / Once again the fields we mow / And gather in the aftermath.”

☾LIBRA☽

Maya Angelou, Caged Bird

“A free bird leaps / on the back of the wind / and floats downstream / till the current ends / and dips his wing / in the orange sun rays / and dares to claim the sky.”

Emily Dickinson, Good Morning – Midnight

“Good Morning – Midnight – / I’m coming Home – / Day – got tired of Me – / How could I – of Him? / Sunshine was a sweet place – / I liked to stay – / But Morn – didn’t want me – now – / So – Goodnight – Day!”

Elizabeth Barrett Browning, My Heart and I

“You see we’re tired, my heart and I. / We dealt with books, we trusted men, / And in our own blood drenched the pen, / As is such colours could not fly. / We walked too straight for fortune’s end, / We loved too true to keep a friend ; / At last we’re tired, my heart and I.”

☾VIRGO☽

Robert Hayden, Those Winter Sundays

“Sundays too my father got up early / and put his clothes on in the blueback cold, / then with cracked hands that ached / from labor in the weekday weather made / banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him. / I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking / When the rooms were warm, he’d call, / and slowly I would rise and dress, / fearing the chronic angers of that house, / Speaking indifferently to him , / who had driven out the cold / and polished my good shoes well. / What did I know, what did I know / of love's austere and lonely offices?”

Jack Kerouac, How to Meditate

“Thinking’s just like not thinking- / So I don't have to think / any / more”

William Faulkner, Study

“Muted dreams for them / for me / Bitter science. Exams are near / And my thoughts uncontrollably / Wander, and I cannot hear / The voice telling me that work I must, / For everything will be the same when I’m dead / A thousand years. I wish I were a bust / All head.”

☾LEO☽

Walt Whitman, I sing the Body Electric

“I sing the body electric, / The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them,”

Oscar Wilde, The Ballad of Reading Gaol

“Yet each man kills the thing he loves, / By each let this be heard, / Some do it with a bitter look, / Some with a flattering word, / The coward does it with a kiss, / The brave men with a sword!”

Ralph Waldo Emerson, Friendship

“A ruddy drop of manly blood / The surging sea outweighs, / The world uncertain comes and goes; / The lover rooted stays. / I fancied he was fled, – / And, after many a year, / Glowed unexhausted kindliness, / Like daily sunrise there. / My careful heart was free again, / O friend, my bosom said, / Through thee alone the sky is arched, / Through thee the rose is red; / All things through thee take nobler form, / And look beyond the earth, / The mill-round of our fate appears / A sun-path in thy worth. / Me too thy nobleness had taught / To master my despair; / The fountains of my hidden life / Are through thy friendship fair.”

☾CANCER☽

Shakespear, Sonnet 147

“My love is as a fever, longing still / For that which longer nurseth the disease, / Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,”

Robert Frost, Acquainted with the Night

“I have been one acquainted with the night. / I have walked out in rain – and back in rain. / I have outwalked the furthest city light. / I have looked down the saddest city lane. / I have passed by the watchman on his beat / And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. / I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet / When far away an interrupted cry / Came over houses from another street, / But not to call me back or say good-bye; / And further still at an unearthly height, / One luminary clock against the sky / Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. / I have been one acquainted with the night.”

William Blake, Auguries of innocence

“To see a World in a Grain of Sand / And a Heaven in a wild flower / Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand / And eternity in an hour”

☾GEMINI☽

Rudyard Kipling, Blue Roses

“Half the world I wandered through, / Seeking where such flowers grew. / Half the world unto my quest / Answered me with laugh and jest. / Home I came at wintertide, / But my silly love had died / Seeking with her latest breath / Roses from the arms of Death.”

John Keats, To Sleep

“Save me from curious Conscience, that still lords / Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole; / Turn the key deftly into the oiled wards, / And seal the hushed Casket of my soul.”

Lord Tennyson, The Eagle

“He clasps the crag with crooked hands; Close to the sun in lonely lands, / Ring’d with the azure world, he stands. / The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls; / He watches from his mountain walls, / And like thunderbolt he falls.”

☾TAURUS☽

John Donne, Air and Angels

“Twice or thrice had I lov’d thee, / Before I knew thy face or name; / So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame / Angels affects us oft, and worshipp’d be;”

Audre Lorde, Recreation

“my body / writes into your flesh / the poem / you make of me. / Touching you I catch midnight / as moon fires set in my throat / I love you flesh into blossom / I made you / and take you made / into me.”

Margaret Walker, Lineage

“My grandmothers were strong. / They followed plows and bent to toil. / They moved through fields sowing seed. / They touched earth and grain grew. / They were full of sturdiness and singing. / My grandmothers were strong. / My grandmothers are full of memories / Smelling of soap and onions and wet clay / With veins rolling roughly over quick hands / They have many clean words to say. / My grandmothers were strong. / Why am I not as they?”

☾ARIES☽

E.E Cummings, Love is more thicker than forget

“love is more thicker than forget / more thinner than recall / more seldom than a wave is wet / more frequent than to fail”

Mark Twain, Genius

“But above all things, / to deftly throw the incoherent ravings of insanity into verse / and then rush off and get booming drunk, / is the surest of all the different signs / of genius.”

Paul Laurence Dunbar, Ships that Pass in the Night

“Out in the sky the great dark clouds are massing; / I look far out into the pregnant night, / Where I can hear a solemn booming gun / And I catch the gleaming of a random light, / That tells me that the ship I seek is passing, passing.”

[forensicated]

Conviction Part 3: Breaking Point (3/6)

Smithy and Ben are patrolling when they get an obvious appreciative once over from a passing woman. Ben grins and tells Smithy he loves it when they meet a woman who 'enjoys' the uniform but Smithy just smirks, saying she's probably hiding something and there'll be a warrant out for her. "...Do you ever switch off?" Ben teases him before they're interrupted by an arctic doing an emergency stop. Smithy tells the driver he can't park there but he panics on seeing the police and does a runner. Ben chases after him whilst Smithy investigates what made such a loud crashing screeching noise in the back of the truck. As he gets the back open, he's sent flying back by a group of 4 men leaping out and escaping. Smithy slowly picks himself up and finds that the load is unstable inside the van and further investigation finds a girl trapped inside.

Smithy ventures inside and squeezes through to the trapped young girl with ominous creaking noises coming from the load. He checks to see if she's trapped on anything and then tries to gently pull her out but this causes crates to almost fall on them so he has to try to communicate to her to remain still. Rachel turns all CCTV cameras to locate the men and to find the truck so she has eyes on everything whilst also arranging backup and an ambulance to attend the scene.

Smithy stops Mel and Millie from climbing in to help as it's not safe. He positions himself over the young girl and brings her hands up to his stab vest, trying to get her to understand his instructions to hold on tight. He braces himself and lifts her top half up enough to get a proper hold of her which causes more debris to fall down onto them and a large cloud of dust to be seen on the CCTV by Rachel who - with Mel and Millie fears the worst - especially when he doesn't respond to the girls shouting 'Sarge?' or Rachel shouting his name. Thankfully he appears carrying the girl - only for her to intimate that someone else is still trapped inside. Smithy goes back in and finds an unconscious male bleeding from a wound on his chest and another unconscious man with what appears to be a stomach injury. The ambulance arrives but the fire brigade are still 7 minutes away. Neither male responds to any stimuli Smithy attempts.

Callum helps Ben attempt to catch the driver, Babur, but he steals a car from a man unloading his shopping and drives off. Callum circulates the description and registration but he disappears. Smithy has to admit defeat and climb out to allow the paramedics to work on them. He gently explains to the young girl, Jala that she's going to go with the paramedics to see a doctor and that he'll stay with her father and meet her at the hospital with him later when he's out of the lorry. She manages to understand a little and nods.

At the hospital, Smithy watches as Jala's father is declared dead when he has no response to CPR. Smithy looks down at his hands that are still covered in the man's blood and goes to the toilets to wash them, deep in thought. At the scene, Eddie is taking pictures in the back of the arctic and we see that the other man who was trapped has also passed. Smithy approaches Jala who is sat with Stevie, looking utterly defeated. "How do I tell a kid who has nothing that she now has even less?" he sighs. Smithy approaches Jala after wondering if it would be better to wait for an interpreter. He gently tells her and Jala breaks down, hiding her face.

Neil tells Jack that the lorry was rented to a fake company and paid for in cash so there's no paper trail. Their only lead at the moment is Zemar Khan, one of the escaped men who Nate and Leon manage to arrest and the contents of the lorry if they can find out who placed the order for the ceramics that were inside the pallets.

Banksy interviews Zemar with the aid of an interpreter. He claims to not know who was inside or the driver but his body language is screaming a different story. Grace believes he understands some English at least and is hiding behind his native tongue and giving himself time to think of answers before responding to the interpreter. When asked about Jala, Zemar becomes very animated and grabs hold of the interpreter. The interpreter only translates that he's worried about her and wants to know how she is despite him clearly saying much more. Annoyingly Banksy does not push this and instead returns to the start to ask for descriptions. Unfortunately they have no choice and have to then use the same interpreter to speak to Jala. She says they were going to live with her auntie. She knows her aunties name but not where she lives. Stevie asks him to tell her that they want to find the people who hurt her dad and that if she can tell them anything about the others or Babur then it'll really help. Jala says she doesn't know anything. The interpreter looks shifty and says far more and longer sentences to Jala and Zemarthan the short answers he gives the officers in English.

Neil traps Zemar into admitting he understands him when he takes him a cup of tea in his cell and he tries to plead with him for help to find Jala's auntie. He tells him he understands that he's scared but reuniting the little girl with her only family is not a threat to him or his safety. He asks him for an address - just an address and nothing else.

Smithy is plagued by the sounds he heard from within the lorry as he takes a few quiet moments mid-shift. Callum asks if he's ok and tells him Jala will be ok when he tries to bluff that he is and Smithy nods along. Rachel calls in a sighting of the car that was stolen by Babur. Callum responds first and Smithy says he'll attend too - Rachel says it only needs one Sergeant and he sighs 'received' into the radio. Callum just smiles. "She'll never know." he says, gesturing for him to follow with Ben. Unfortunately when they find the car it's on fire and there's no sign of Babur.

Rachel calls Smithy with a location for Jala's auntie and spots that both Sgt's responded to follow the car. Smithy tells her arrived when they found the car was on fire and she tells him to drop it and go to where Neil has reported Jala's auntie, Ara Byat, could be living. Unfortunately the community shut down when asked to help locate Ara but Smithy spots a nervous looking woman who reluctantly confirms she is the woman he's looking for. He reassures her she's not in trouble, it's about Jala and her father. He explains what happened and comforts her as he takes her to see the young girl.

Eddie explains to Jack that the 6 men and Jala were crammed into a space approximately 6 ft by 12ft for the entire journey that lasted days with the load arranged in such a fashion that the crates were all around them and on top of them. It was loaded poorly so the heavier items were at the top to stop customs poking around that such an accident was bound to happen. Eddie lifted fingerprints from the steering wheel that match those found inside the van and the crates the men and Jala were inside - Babur knew they were there.

At the station Stevie is trying to entice Jala to play Buckaroo but the young girl is not interested. She tells Stevie her father told her lying is wrong but the interpreter said she should lie to the police. Stevie gently tells her she can tell her anything and she'll help her. She tells her the name of the driver - Babur Sherdil.

Grace finds that the order came originally from a factory in Afghanistan and the tiles have already been recalled due to a defect so had been a cover all along. Given the circumstances it seems it's large scale people trafficking by an organised crime gang - especially to have a police authorised translator involved. Whilst there's nothing known in his background to link him to anyone, he still terrified a little girl into silence. Callum and a group of officers attend his flat and arrest him, dragging him into the station.

Smithy takes Ara to see her brothers body with Stevie so she can identify him. Ara tells them that the traffickers take everything personal from them including their jewellery as a form of power and that they class the immigrants as less than human so take no care with them. If they die - there's always others who will risk their lives to make the crossing. In Ara and her brothers case, they have stolen the only thing they have to remember their father by - his ring.

Jack tells Sammy, the interpreter, that Jala had to sit in the back of the lorry and watch her father die. Sammy says he was trying to help her and that he's not part of any organised crime group. Sammy explains that Zemar threatened him in interview and told him to make sure Jala kept her mouth shut. He explains that they have their families details in Afghanistan and if they were caught and cooperated with police then their loved ones would be murdered. Sammy claims he doesn't know how many traffickers are involved or who they are and he snaps that the police don't know the pain it causes. His wife and son were murdered for being the wrong religion in their country which is why he got asylum in the UK. Jack tells him that if they remove the traffickers they remove the threat to the families and tell him to make a stand. Sammy reluctantly admits that Babur works for one of the landlords on the West Gate Estate by collecting rents from the refugees. The landlord's name?

Devlin.

Smithy tells Neil that trafficking would be exactly what Jason Devlin would be knee deep in. They arrange a briefing to bring everyone else up to speed. "This is Jason Devlin." Smithy starts, showing a picture with Callum helpfully adding. "Easy to recognise, got the sort of face you want to punch." He relies on his dad's money and reputation as protection but there's nothing so far - other than Sammy's tenuous link of Babur to the Devlin's as a rent collector -to prove he or his father are into people trafficking. The Devlin's own a lot of properties that are rented by immigrants, most likely to be illegal going on the past form and what Smithy found at the house on Stafford Row.

Jack arranges Banksy and Grace to look into the background of Babur and to run an FIU check on him to find anything and everything that links him to the Devlin's. Neil is tasked with visiting Matthew Devlin to ask for his help to track Babur. Smithy is tasked with finding the identity of the second dead man from the lorry by letting Sammy introduce him to the local community - even though they know they can't trust him.

Sammy tells Smithy to take his time and to properly speak to the people, not just fire questions at them. Not only are they putting their neck on the line by agreeing to speak to him despite the potential the Devlin's might find out, it's also Afghani culture to speak and think about what they're saying and get to know the person before 'getting down to business'. Smithy has an immediate link with the first man he's introduced to, Atash, given he's wearing a West Ham tshirt! His police radio upsets some of the men so he turns it off as a sign of goodwill, promising them whatever they say is off the record.

Matthew Devlin pretends not to recognise Babur's name and says that he should probably speak to his son as he deals with casual staff. He asks what he's done and Stevie explains about the people trafficking and that the load shifted and killed two of them. He briefly tells them how sorry he is to hear it before Jason arrives. Jason says he hasn't heard from Babur for a few days and that he only does casual work for them but he has an idea where he'll be so Matthew asks him to go with the officers. Callum arrives to drive Jason and Stevie around and they head to the high street in search of Babur.

Smithy's time with Gina has definitely rubbed off on him as he's now debating boxing and boxers with Atash. Smithy gets him to open up about the people trafficking, promising he won't ask personal questions or go after any of them. He simply wants to know who the dead man is so they can get justice and also let his family know the sad news. Even if the person's family is in the country illegally he promises he'll keep it off the record and gives Atash his personal word that they will not get arrested. Atash exchanges looks with another man who leaves the room and returns with an older man who approaches Smithy. Atash man explains that the dead man is this man's son. "I'm very sorry for your loss, sir." he says gently.

Devlin directs Callum to stop outside of a restaurant and points Babur out to them. He wants to go after him himself for 'filling his property with illegals' but Callum orders him to stay where he is with Stevie. Despite the back of the police cars usually having locks on them so prisoners can't let themselves out, Devlin manages to get out and make threatening eye contact with Babur as Callum leads him to the car. Devlin gets a call and excuses himself to go and get a cab as Babur is put into the back of the patrol car with a "Say hello to Sergeant Smith for me!" dig as he leaves.

Stevie and Callum report the eye contact between Babur and Devlin and that the intimidation has begun already. Neil sends Stevie to the community center to help Smithy and show that the police really are there to support them. Neil interviews Babur who claims that he had no idea that the people were in lorry and that the person who identified him must be lying and covering for someone else. Neil points out they've found his fingerprints on the boxes the people were hiding under. He claims he helped load it and then went for some food. Neil tells him they did tests to work out if he'd be able to hear them from the lorry where he sat in the cab. He could. He heard them screaming and simply ran away. Babur claims he has a hearing problem and Neil says he'll have seen a doctor for that so it'd be on his medical records. He asked who is behind it and Babur claims he doesn't know. "Then you're going to go to prison for a long time for them." Neil finishes.

Smithy drives the bereaved father home with Atash and Stevie. They do not get a warm welcome. Atash gently suggests that the police should leave as police presence is looked upon with suspicion there. Before he can leave, Stevie alerts Smithy to Jason Devlin and a group of 'friends'. Devlin tells the 'friends' to go door to door to visit the tenants and to evict anyone who isn't legally paying rent. Smithy warns him to call them off or he'll arrest him. Unfortuantely - as Devlin knows - he can't stop them as no crime has been committed yet, though it has put a huge hole in the community relations Smithy had started to build up as Atash shouts to the others what is happening and they scarper back to their flats.

Babur is charged with people trafficking and manslaughter but will not name anyone else so appears to be about to take the entire rap himself. Smithy calls in and reports what Devlin is doing, asking for backup. He can only watch at the moment with Stevie for fear of inflaming the situation.. A few of the tenants appear to be tooling up to take matters into their own hands as Devlin watches on, loving Smithy's discomfort with what is happening. Smithy goes in with uniform to remove Devlin's men and Stevie marches Devlin himself away. Uniform try and keep the two groups of opposing men seperate and stop the trouble from escalating.

Stevie gets Devlin into the car and gets herself inside and locks the doors as the car becomes under attack from people trying to lynch Devlin. Smithy and Callum manage to break up the disturbance and Smithy says Devlin needs to be gotten out of there so Stevie volunteers to take him to his own car on the other side of the estate.

Before TSG and further back up can arrive, petrol bombs start to be thrown. Rachel can only stand and watch the monitor in open mouthed horror until Heaton appears and asks her what's going on. Heaton has to tell her that it's too many people involved for the officers on the ground to deal with even without the added fire danger so she tells them to withdraw and head to the community center to wait for reinforcements. Callum reports that's not possible as the tenants have already split them into smaller groups so they cannot safely withdraw. Heaton repeats Rachel's order to remove officers and vehicles from the scene as Rachel is too slow to take control. In the meantime, Roger is dragged off into the stairwell. Smithy and Callum ignore the orders and work together to retrieve Roger from the hostile group and then they retreat back to the estate entrance to await back up. Heaton tells a shamefaced Rachel to get to the estate to work from the scene.

Stevie and Devlin find 2 of the tenants wrecking Devlin's car. He shouts and chases after them. The kids contact others who start to tool up and head round. Fearing for Stevie who is with Devlin, Smithy goes round to check on her. Devlin checks his car over and whilst he's doing so he finds his boot won't close properly since it was hit with metal poles. Stevie spots the bag he loaded before going with her and Callum earlier and asks him what's in it. He says it's nothing to do with her. As Smithy is approaching he spots the youths with poles and tackles them single handedly with pepper spray and a threat they can't deal with Devlin so to leave him to the police. Amazingly they do and walk off! Devlin attacks Stevie for trying to look in the bag. Smithy arrives and sees what Devlin is doing. Seeing the state of Stevie he loses control and lays into Devlin, beating him to the point of unconsciousness. Callum tries to find Smithy and finally locates him - looking very guilty whilst standing over the prone and beaten body of Devlin, gasping for breath.

[sirnica]

Serbia, don't play cultured with me. don't be cowards. send Rasta. Send McStojan. Send Ministarke.

Win this thing again.

[glowingbadger]

The Sylvain and Dimitri arranged marriage stuff made me think of a claude version of it. Maybe an AU where Claude never came to fodlan and reader has to marry the prince/king of Almyra to improve countries relationships. Anyway seriously love your stuff thank you so much for the content!!

Oh hoo Anon, this is a wonderful take on the concept. Let's see what I can whip up for us~

((side note I feel like we never learn whether Almyra speaks a different language from Fodlan?? But being multi-lingual is sexy so idgaf))

((And also I used Bengali for Almyran because I have Bengali family and the language is so beautiful even though the english alphabet phonetic spellings are weird af))

Claude x Reader - Arranged Marriage

NSFW 18+ (like only towards the end tho idk)

Overall, you do what you can to stay out of the way. You'd been sent to Almyra as a symbol- a token, more than anything else. Now that you were in King Khalid's possession, very few throughout the castle paid you any particular mind. You were provided for, of course. Anything you cared to ask for was given. But you didn't speak a word of the Almyran language, and those who bothered to use what they knew of Fodlan's to communicate with you seemed to view you as a pet to be kept safe and healthy, and little else.

By week's end, there was to be a lavish banquet in honor of your union with the King- though of course, your input on the proceedings is entirely unwanted. In some ways, Almyra is quite similar to Fodlan. Court life is much the same. As you wander through the royal gardens, wondering at a range of colorful and exotic flowers you'd never heard of, let alone seen, a voice speaks smoothly behind you.

"Did you know you can actually eat the petals of this particular flower? They're very sweet."

You whirl around and nearly bump into King Khalid. You're about to stammer out an apology, but he reaches out and plucks a single white petal and holds it before your lips.

"Go on, I think you'll like it."

Whatever possesses you to eat a flower petal from this man's hand is something you'd rather leave unexamined for the time being- but he is right about the flavor. It's sweet, but not overly so, and quite pleasant.

"Hm! Yeah, it's nice," you say, then glance up at him as another thought occurs to you that you'd considered once or twice before, "You speak the language of Fodlan very well, my Lord."

"I'm flattered," he says with a disarmingly handsome smile, "and please, just Khalid. I don't think I could bear to have my own wife stand on such formality with me."

He says it so naturally, as if you'd been planning this union for years. Though, once again, he's right. This is only perhaps the dozenth time you've exchanged words, but you are wed, and you ought to get used to addressing him as your husband.

"Khalid..." you say tentatively, "Did- did you need something from me? I hope I wasn't too much trouble to find."

"Not when you find such pleasant places to hide," he replies, still wearing that easy smile, "but to be honest, I was actually hoping you'd accompany me for the day. I can finally afford to take a bit of time away from the castle, and I think you and I both would appreciate some space to breathe. What do you say?"

Correct once again. You nod, and take the arm he offers you. As he leads you out from the gardens, he points out a few more plants native to your new homeland. They're incredibly varied, each more strange and vibrant than the last. All the while, he's somehow made you feel as though you're chatting with an old friend. You leave the gardens and wander towards the area you vaguely recall to be designated for horse stables and wyvern stalls.

From there, a few things happen in sequence. Khalid asks if you're afraid of flying. He asks if you trust him to hold on to you. He helps you up onto the saddle that seems impossibly high up on its own right, and then, you're propelled into the air with a force your body has never felt before. You tense and shrink back against his chest, clinging to whatever part of the saddle you can find purchase on for dear life. Up here, it's difficult to pick up, but you feel your husband laugh behind you, then his strong arm wrap around your waist.

"Relax, I won't let anything happen to you," he says against your ear, his voice sure and steady, "I've got you."

And it takes a few miles of flying and a lot of Khalid distracting you by pointing out different buildings and shops along the streets below, but eventually, you do manage to relax- at least a little.

The castle town is positively buzzing with activity. Even from your distance in the sky above, you can see clusters of people moving around each other like fish up stream, and even hear the faint echoes of a merchant advertising goods.

"It doesn't seem at all like the Almyra we're taught about in Fodlan."

"Oh, it is," Khalid assures you with a bemused chuckle, "But it's also much more. I imagine it's the same for your people. There's a lot we can learn from one another, I think."

By the time the sun is high in the sky, you've passed the most densely settled part of town and are gliding over farmland and the occasional pocket of forest and rivers that split and cross through the earth like veins. Though, the warmer climate of Almyra will still take some getting used to, and it seems your husband considers this.

"Let's land for a bit and find some shade,"

You nod, and he directs his wyvern to begin a slow descent.

The King had thought of everything for this little day-trip, it seemed. Having evidently packed everything you'd need in the saddlebags on his steed, you now recline beside him on a plush blanket in a clearing amidst the trees. A small brook bubbles down from stone to stone in small waterfalls beside you, and the air feels positively alive with birdsong and rustling leaves, all foreign to you and all part of your new home. And so is he, you think as you glance over at the handsome figure of your husband beside you.

You'd been sitting in a comfortable quiet, munching on a couple of very dense pastries which Khalid had told you incorporated an extract of the flower you'd sampled earlier. He gives a satisfied sigh as he finishes his first and lies back on the blanket, taking in and savoring a deep breath. As you finish the last bites of your own treat, you reflect on the day thus far. You'd learned much about the locals and their daily lives by observation and Khalid's description in such a short time, and he'd even taught you a hand full of basic words and phrases in Almyran.

"Uhm, Khalid?"

He opens one eye and gives you a sideways glance.

"It was... dhonnobad, right? Thank you?"

His smile his open and warm, his eyes practically shimmering in the reflected sunlight from the nearby brook.

"Well, we'll have to work on your pronunciation, but I'm impressed you remembered," he beckons you down onto the blanket beside him, and you follow, lying on your side as he turns towards you. You're closer than you'd anticipated, even given the limited realestate of the blanket, and you internally scold yourself for being shy about something so silly- like some naive adolescent.

"Let's try a couple more words, since you've been such a diligent student."

"Okay," you say with a smile, "try me, I'll do my best."

"Hmm..." he looks around your private clearing, then gestures towards the brook and says, "Jala"

"Jala," you repeat slowly. He nods,

"Right- that's 'water'. And, uhm..." he points toward a patch of wildflowers at the edge of the brook, "Phula. That's 'flower'."

Again, you repeat as best you can, and though you know your pronunciation must be off, he's encouraging nonetheless. Then, he leans in towards you, and brings his free hand to your cheek, his fingertips brushing your skin lightly.

"Now try sundara."

"... Sundara?" you make an attempt, and you're sure you got something about that 's' sound mixed up, but Khalid just gives you a slanted smile. He doesn't clarify at first, so you ask, "What does that one mean?"

His fingers slowly weave back into your hair, and his voice is low and soothing as he replies,

"That means 'beautiful'."

Your face warms immediately, but you hardly have a moment to feel bashful about it before he presses his lips to yours, kissing you slow and deep. His movements are effortlessly sensual, pulling you towards him and sending your pulse pounding through your veins. You part your lips to him almost instinctively, and the way he uses his tongue is sparing, but oh-so effective. When he finally pulls away, your head is spinning and it's all you can do to meet his gaze.

"So... that's how they kiss in Almyra." you say, barely above a whisper. Khalid smirks and turns you onto your back, sliding an arm around your waist.

"Oh, no- there's no tradition in this, only skill."

Goddess- if they'd warned you of the King's supernatural charms, you wouldn't have believed them. But now his lips are on yours once again, and he's holding your body to his, and you can't think of anything else. Your arms drape across his shoulders, and faster than you can track, your bodies have met in a tangled, impassioned embrace. It was hard to imagine that mere kissing could feel so erotic, but something about his pace, about how his lips and hands move in tandem, about how thorough he is in exploring you, makes you feel like it would be only natural to give yourself over to him completely.

His kiss travels along your jawline up to the shell of your ear, where he nips briefly, then murmurs,

"I was hoping to apologize for how little time we've had to get to know each other before today," you bite at your bottom lip as his hand slides down to the curve of your hip, "if that would be pleasing to you, my dearest wife."

"Ye- yes..." you sigh into the open air as his lips reach your neck. The single word is all either of you need. He never stops pressing lavish kisses to your lips and neck as he pulls your clothing out of his way. By the time he's satisfied, your clothes are draped off your arms and pooling around you on the blanket- and he doesn't seem to care to remove them entirely. He has a goal in mind.

Slowly, painstakingly, he makes his way down your body. You feel him everywhere- hands tracing and memorizing your frame, breath hot across your skin as his lips spoil you with adoring kisses. Soon enough, he's kissed his way to your lower stomach, and he urges your thighs apart beneath him. You suppress the instinctive wave of embarrassment at being exposed to him for the first time- he is your husband and your King, afterall- but then, his head dips down towards your plump lower lips, and your mind goes white.

"Khalid-!" you gasp out as his tongue trails coyly up the crease of your folds. He hums contentedly, and places a disarmingly chaste kiss to the soft skin. Then, his thumbs gently spread you open for him, and your entire body burns while he takes a moment to merely admire you- your pretty little hole already wet, your clit already hard and flushed dark. When his head lowers once more, his green eyes meet yours steadily, as though to promise without words to be good to you.

And in a moment, his mouth begins to gently tease your clit, and your head tilts back on the blanket. Your hips jerk just a bit with each pass of his tongue across the sensitive bundle, and occasionally you can't hold in a gasp or whimper of pleasure. This only encourages him, of course. The more you moan and sigh, the more dedicated he becomes to your body. He presses himself more firmly to you, his lips surrounding your clit and the surrounding tender flesh, and he suckles on you, licks you, kisses you. You don't know when it happened, but your hands are at the back of his head, fists tangled in thick brown hair as he diligently works.

The unbearable tension is winding tight and anxious in your lower body- you know he'll drive you to climax before long, and the mere thought feels like falling in love. And then Khalid moves lower, and his tongue dips inside of your entrance. You gasp and unwittingly tug on his hair- but he certainly doesn't seem to mind. With a lustful groan, he presses more firmly to you, truly buried against your body as his dexterous tongue curls upward, stroking the vulnerable spot behind the nerves of your clit.

"Khalid!" this time it's nearly a scream, and you're grateful that your voice is lost in the surrounding foliage. Your thighs begin to shake, and your hands release him to instead clutch the blanket behind you. And at last, with a whimper in a voice you hardly recognize, your lower body floods with soaked warmth as your orgasm sweeps through you. Panting, twitching, you moan out for your husband over and over, until finally, the wave begins to subside, and Khalid pulls away to position himself above you on all fours.

"That's a nice expression..." he says with a grin, directing you to look at him with a hand at your chin, "I hope I'll get to see it often."

When your eyes finally refocus, you look up at him somewhat apologetically,

"I should... attend to you."

He laughs and kisses your forehead,

"There will be time for that tonight, don't you think? Once we're a bit more... put together," he says with a glance at your bare form, "we should head back to our ride. I'll bring you back to the castle, and we'll get the cooks to prepare something very 'Almyran' for you."

You nod- it probably wouldn't do for the first time with your Lord Husband to be mid-day in the woods. Though he'd certainly failed to make it seem unappealing.

"And then," he goes on, bringing a finger to trace the curve of your bottom lip, "Well, maybe we'll excuse ourselves to our bedchamber a bit early this evening, and we can continue this little... cultural exchange."

[i-am-kind-of-lost]

Fuck it, we ball.

So the story is about our resident, psychopath/sociopath, (I don't know the difference, apologies). Rannvijay Singh Balbir, who is the son of the rich man, Balbir Singh. They are business people. 🫡🫡

Dad was busy running business throughout so didn't love him much, didn't spend that much time with him, beat him up on a few occasions. Hence there is a lot of resentment, pent up anger, desperation to prove himself, and yada yada yada. So the guy ends up developing severe anger issues, and loses all sense of morality for some fucking reason, and has no qualms about committing mass murder. YAY. He shoots a gun in his sister's college, because she gets ragged, and drives a few guys off the road to protect her, you know how it is.

His father sends him away, he comes back and convinces resident dumb woman Gitanjali to break off her engagement to nice NRI educated man, because he is an alpha and weak men invented poetry so that they could fuck women. Also, you know the pelvis line, it works, she leaves the NRI. His father throws him out again, he leaves, goes to America. 8 years later, his dad is shot by business rivals, so he comes back to protect his family.

Here it revealed that the guys attacking his family are his second cousins, whose grandfather was kicked out of family business by the Vijay's grandfather. So the evil branch of the family converted to Islam as all evil people do. And they are more vicious, and dangerous and evil and more misogynists than our Hindu Sher here. It is evident in the introduction scene with Bobby Deol, who kills a man on his wedding, more graphically than any other killing in the movie, and then has sex with his third wife while covered in blood and then invites his two wives into the room and strips them naked. Because muslims you know. Tripti Dimri (why are you in this movie, woman, why) is sent as a honeypot, but Ranbir bhai rizzes her and makes her fall in love with him, she reveals the Ekta Kapooresque plan to impersonate him and kill his family.

Ranbir Bhai tells his wife that she should forgive him for cheating on her as he did it for his father, and she forgave him for mass murders, what even is cheating compared to that. (ACTUAL LINE NO JOKE)

So Ranbir bhai goes to fight the evil muslims at an airstrip in Scotland. Where the final fight takes place to the background of, "Papa tujhe ho gaya kuch, saari duniya jala denge hum". Being the nice Hindu Sher that he is, he gives the evil muslim man a chance to make amends and part ways, but the evil muslim man muslims all over the place, and tell him to suck his dick, so Ranbir bhai kills him.

He comes home to find that his wife is leaving him and that his dad is dying of cancer, lol, this whole movie is pointless.

Post Credit Scene - Evil Muslim Man's younger brother, goes through plastic surgery to look like Hindu Ranbir, so Muslim Ranbir kills two of Hindu Ranbir's friends. And he marries his older brother's wife who just gave birth, because that's what muslims do. OH, btw, he is accompanied by mujra music, because you know muslims.

Guys I watched Animal, review chahiye

[heavylaythecrown]

a million dreams

★ synopsis: maybe it was a good idea to take a break.

★ character(s): nanami kentō

�� warning: slightly suggestive at the end, canon divergent

★ words of the prophet: chapter 120 never happened for me. can be read as continuation for “overtime” (not necessarily). repost from @/miss-minty-writes

    “this isn’t half bad!” you laugh, swirling the pink liquid of your drink in its glass a few times and taking a bite of the chocolate cake you were eating. “we should have come here sooner. the sun is great!”

    “so it is, darling,” nanami agrees, lifting his sunglasses from his nose. he has a green cocktail next to him—one that you picked because you knew he loves limes. He stretches lightly, rubbing one of his cheeks. “the food is even better.”

    “right? i loved that roti jala we ate the other day!”

    breaks in Nanami’s field of work were rare. very rare—in fact, he himself didn’t like stopping for too long due to unforeseen problems that could occur. but, truth be told—whether he liked it or not—he needed a vacation. the stress accumulating was a little too much to bear sometimes, and a little escapade wouldn’t hurt anyway.

    you perch your sunglasses on your head, turning on your tummy and crawling next to him, puckering your lips quietly. he knows what you want—and he gives it to you, planting a soft kiss to your waiting lips. “i spoil you too much, dear,” he chuckles when you grab his glass and slurp half of its contents in one go.

    “but you love me,” you counter, tone light and playful. another soft kiss lands on your forehead and his warm palm brushes your hair from your face.

    “hm. lucky you, i guess.”

    “rude!”

    nanami is a composed man. he keeps his emotions at bay because of how troublesome it is for him to act on impulse. he’s calm, collected, calculated. you love him like this, frighteningly accurate and precise—it gives you a feeling of safety. but you love him even more when he relaxes, the façade crumbling completely and letting himself enjoy life to the fullest.

    the shibuya incident drained everyone of all resources available—so, naturally, after the mess was sorted out, the higher-ups allowed the high-grade sorcerers and the students alike to take a break from curse fighting.

    you were ecstatic when gojo sent you the message, already having planned your next escapade with your husband—and while he didn’t show it, he was relieved he could get away from both work and a certain white-haired man (though his back cracked a bit when you jumped in his arms, tickets to malaysia in hands).

    as long as he could remember, he didn’t have a reason to live—not a concrete one, at least. he knew what he had to do to push through, sure, and he was equipped with the necessary skills to survive. emotions suppressed and mind used to its full capacity, he monotonously weaved his way through life.

    but was there anything to brighten his path?

    he didn’t have long-term goals. graduate, graduate, graduate again, help people, get rid of curses—grow up, get a job, wake up, go to work, get off work, buy that delicious casse-croûte from the bakery, arrive home, go to sleep. rinse and repeat. tedious, really. he didn’t have time for distractions and he rarely looked for things to enjoy.

    everything changed when you made your way into his life.

    you were too bright for his taste—always eager to try new things and get out of routine, his polar opposite. reckless, maybe a bit dense. he didn’t like you at first—you reminded him too much of haibara.

    with time, he realized that he had misjudged you. you were, indeed, a lot like his old friend—but you had your own way of doing things, of thinking—of being. and he started liking you.

    he started liking your interests, too. he often found himself humming a song you’d sang the day prior, or craving something you remotely mentioned three weeks ago. he even bought a succulent after you told him that plants improve life quality—and you were right. his little buddy, whom he had taken care of meticulously, was a great… something… that he could talk to about things he couldn’t bring up with you.

    he started sharing your dreams. the way you wanted to move to another country, to read as many books as you can, to travel, to try good food and have fun. to relax.

    you understood him. his cold demeanor was somewhat of a protective shell for the outer world. you coaxed him out of it and held his hand every step of the way as you guided him forwards.

    so he stuck with you. and you glued yourself to him.

    he never considered marriage before you brought it up during dinner one night, casually giggling like a schoolgirl talking to her crush as you told him about a friend of yours, whose partner had proposed in a very gushy way. he wasn’t one for lovey-dovey stuff—but something in him awakened at the glint in your eye as you went on and on about some guys getting bound forever.

   bound forever. yeah. that sounded good. he’ll buy a nice ring soon enough.

    then came the kids. he noticed the way your eyes lingered on babies a little too much, how you cradled them in your arms gently, as if they were yours—he somehow got the urge to see you with your own baby in your arms as he came back from work and kissed your forehead.

    these things are puzzling him—but then again, it’s you. you puzzle him—yet he doesn’t mind it one bit.

    back at the hotel, late at night, after a full day of visiting, shopping and fooling around in the malaysian sun, you change your shirt after a well-deserved shower. nanami is already in bed, browsing aimlessly through a site you can’t quite make, hair freshly dried and held back with one of your black hair clips. He looks very concentrated, though, and you giggle.

    “what’s gotten you so worked up, ken?” you ask, drying your hair with a towel. he hums, closing his phone and putting it on the nightstand.

    “nothing. just house hunting.”

    “…what?”

    “you always said you wanted to move abroad, didn’t you?” he states calmly, rubbing an eye. “this just might be our chance.”

    you watch him incredulously, eyes wide and towel long forgotten. is he for real? this isn’t a split second decision, what about the sorcerer community, your friends—

    a gentle hand moves over yours, squeezing it lightly to bring you back down to earth. his smile is as soft as always and he inches closer to you, producing a black velvet box from one of his pockets.

    “i wanted to ask for your hand in a proper way—maybe during a dinner in town. something romantic anyway. i just realized that anything can be romantic if i set the mood right.” he opens the box, revealing a delicate golden band, adorned with a small emerald in the center and lined with a few diamonds. “so… will you marry me?”

    it comes naturally to you to wrap your arms around his neck—tears of joy falling from your eyes as you straddle him and push him in the mattress, muttering incoherently after a string of yes, yes, yes. your control doesn’t last long, though—he immediately flips you over, a smirk settling on his lips as he licks them.

    “oh, i almost forgot. i have another gift for you—since it’s painfully obvious you want a little one to take care of and watch running around,” he breathes into your neck, placing a sweet kiss on your skin. “how about we start a family? how does that sound to you, my dear?”

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Already regretting assigning Anthony Burgess to review the Samsung Galaxy Fold

“Welly, welly, well, to what do I owe the extreme pleasure of this ganjy gadget? What’s it going to be then, eh?

There was me, that is Lexa, and my pelendus Pria, Georgina, and Dim, all sat in the So Milkbar with the package sent my way, safe of the rainy blacklight without. As everybody is fast to forget, newspapers not being read much these days, this thing is quite the jem, folding like a zagamine and opening up to play any viddytube or app.

A dayback marvel, as the literature has it, so here we are ignoring the sayjaylays at the bar in favor of this mystic slab. It was the jang, or so we were told, and two grand to boot.

Unspun from its box, the ol' android came on and the hardware was alive. Oh, jala, jala! Like a sheet of rarespun heaven metal or silvery wine flowing in a spaceship, gravity all nonsense now under my flicking and tapping fingertips. Gorgeousness and gorgeosity made flesh, flipping and folding, a wonder of wonders, even its music a cage of silk. Ah sa, my sisters, who well wanted a go and made grabby grabs at the magic machine.

"Over my baejae body girls," said I, recoiling and fending. There was yet a film on it, the protector that comes on all such things. Off I pulled this sheeting, daksal and slippy, as any would do. But within seconds there was a line and a flutter and then another and more. Barely able to see my googles I restarted the slab but still it was sad. Folding this way and that only the worse it got.

Soon I'm biting off my naily wails, knowing it must be returned by the fortnight to the PR peeps, having a total menbung in front of my mates over this machine.

With a most formal slap it went back in the boxy box and it was as if it were never before my eye. I may yet be inspired to do the ultra-violent on this nabbeny failbox. Money isn’t everything, but you have to admit my pelendus that two grannies is more than enough for nothing.

"What a mess, what a sellongy," said I, taking my cane and heading out into the grim night. "What sort of fool gets stuck with a folding lemon?" ㅠㅠ

Best Buy cancels Samsung Galaxy Fold preorders [The Verge]

https://boingboing.net/2019/05/24/already-regretting-assigning-a.html

[thejackmeister-mongolhistory]

Ogedai's Edict to the Koreans, 1232

The most famous Mongol diplomatic missives of the 13th century are, of course, the demands for submission sent to many a rule across Eurasia. Below, we'll share one of the less commonly seen letters of this time, sent from Ogedai Khaan to the Koreans in 1232, while Mongols armies had surrounded their capital Songdo (modern Kaesong). This letter was originally a very stilted and grammatically poor Chinese: likely, it was copied down hastily directly from someone translating Ogedai's dictated orders out of Mongolian. This particular letter was preserved in the Koryo-sa, a dynastic history printed in the 1450s (but initially compiled in the 1390s before extensive editing and formatting).

EDICT FROM OGEDEI QA’AN TO KORYO

“Strength of Heaven! Words spoken from Heaven: [1] those people we get who do not braid their hair [2] will have their eyes blinded, their hands removed, their legs crippled!

Edict.

We send off the army of Sarta the Quiver-Bearer to ask whether you are awaiting submission or awaiting battle.

In the year of the Rat,[1216] when the Black Khitan [3] raided your state of Kao-li, you were not able properly to get rid of them. We sent the two people, Jala and Qačin [4]. They came leading the army, took the Black Khitan and killed them all. You they did not kill. We came, for if we had not dealt with the Black Khitan, you would not have been soon [in doing it]. Isn’t it so?

You did not give a salute to the envoy… isn’t it so? [corruption in text?]

When you submitted, we sent the envoy Ja’uyu [5]. He did not administer beatings among you. Isn’t it so?

Ja’uyu disappeared. An envoy came searching for Ja’uyu. You used bow and arrow, shot the man who came searing, and chased him back. For that reason, we are sure it was you who took Ja’uyu and killed him.

We have now come to search and inquire into this business. The edict of the Qa’an says: If you are awaiting battle, we are in one action to kill you, one after the other, to the end. If, on the other hand, you want to submit, you are to go and submit all at once, as before. If you have love for your people, come and submit all at once, as before.

You are quickly to have the envoy who has been sent down sent back.

If you want to do battle, you shall know this: in the great nation of the Qa’an, we Tatars have gathered all of the nations surrounding us in the four directions. We have also gathered in the nations which did not submit.

If you do not heed this, we will administer beatings to all of those who have gone into submission. If you do not heed this, we will rob and plunder your residences and will soon pacify them.

Listen! Bring the King of Kao-li with you. Those among your people who have submitted will remain in their residences as of old. People who do not submit will be killed.

In the Year of the Tiger [1218], you submitted. We together were no less than one house. Isn’t it so?

The envoy who has been sent is Ortu.”

From Ledyard, Gari. “Two Mongol Documents from the Koryo sa.” Journal of the American Oriental Society 83 no. 2 (1963): pg 228.

[1] a rare shorting of the more famous "by the will of Eternal Blue Heaven," which normally opened Mongol demands.

[2] braided hair was associated with Mongols and Turkic peoples: for the Mongols, this is of course their famous hair cut wherein the top of the head is shaved, leaving the sides to grow long and be braided into loops behind the ears. The Chinese (and to my understanding, the Koreans, but I could be wrong and welcome correction) were quite the opposite, leaving the hair uncut and putting it into buns or knots. The Chines associated braids and long unkempt hair with 'barbarians.'

[3] ‘Black Khitan,’ seemingly how the Mongols distinguished between ethnic Khitans (calling them Black Khitans) and northern Chinese (calling them just Khitans). The likely origin of Khitai → Cathay → China in English. In 1216 this Khitan army fled Mongol rule into Korea, where the Koreans were unable to expel them for two years.

[4] Jala and Qacin lead the army in 1218 to defeat the Khitans in Korea. Upon entering Korea in 1218, the Mongols considered Korea to have submitted to them

[5] Ja’uyu was the Mongol envoy to Korea 1220-1225. His ‘disappearance’ in 1225 served as pretext for the Mongol invasion in 1231.

Ultimately, Sangdo submitted, but the harsh treatment by Sarta Qorci and the difficultly in meeting his demands led a revolt a few months later, moving the capital from Sangdo to Kanghwa Island. There, the Korean court ruled in near exile for 27 years after the Mongols invaded and raided the Korean peninsula. Final submission only occurred in 1259, and further onerous demands to supply the invasions of Japan in the following decades.

[batchelorthisted6-blog]

8 Indispensable Tips for Selecting A Wedding Dj

The speacial couple will dance first. In which the usual format. The actual parent dances with the pair - father with your son's bride and mother with the groom. Jelena Karleusa Remember that it really is at the reception where you will meet your friends as newlyweds and everyone will call you Mr. or Mrs. So and certainly. Traditionally, introducing the newlyweds already been the highlight of day time at receptions, therefore make yours noteworthy. Don't forget to include an appealing tune a treadmill of your favorite love ballads while anyone with honey walk in. What To do: Don't let your groom lift there without practicing! Ours was a nervous wreck and stumbled through his entire toast. In the end, food fine because we could tell he was nervous - but do everyone a favor and practice with him right before. Cool Postmark For Your Christmas Mail - Someone from north america . Post Office will be on site December 15 through the 20th, from 11 their.m. to 6:30 to hand-cancel mail this special Armadillo Christmas Bazaar postmark. Perfect then mail your holiday cards created by location. Make particular the Disk jockey has expert Liability Assurance. If you don't - and Aunt Jane trips over the Dee Jay's cords - you may sued . Find out in case the DJ has Jelena Karleusa duties or if he are only going to plays mp3. Make certain all duties are clear (preferably in writings) before time. What's going to the Dee Jay do if his sound systems breaks through? Since most Dee Jays have changed in the digital age, you need to have to exactly what the emergency plans are if the Dee Jay has to drastically boot up. 1) Discover one that will personally plan your Reception with the individual. It is YOUR reception. But you're not the fellow. A good DJ/MC will meet with you a couple of weeks leading to the event and go the actual years Planning Guide he sent you. You utilize busy he is, Jala Brat you are paying him to afford particular awareness of all the details of YOUR reception, as well as deserve doing it. Take it one step at a time, one instruction commencing on another. Line upon line, precept upon principle. She kept pouring and pouring until there were no more vessels to pour and she only used the jar of acrylic.

[castorhq]

now that’s a face with a thousand questions. we could give you some answers, stranger. the oracle requests you draw a card. just focus intently on what you want to know most, and pull from the deck. you won’t need to say any more than that-- we’ll leave it to the fates.

you draw: the high priestess, upright

age range: 25 - 35 species: human alignment: street beasts suggested faceclaims: nathalie emmanuel, natasha liu bordizzo, rege-jean page, devery jacobs

the reading: 

“i don't think of all the misery, but of the beauty that still remains.” ― anne frank

i have seen you here before. and i have seen your mother and your mother’s mother. this town has been home to your family for generations. human though you may be, your lineage has been tied to the legend of wolves and you remain forever in their debt. your faith and kindness to the protectors of castor have granted you something special, unlike most humans: eyes that see the true face of those you encounter—be it wolves or witches or vampires. may you use it to protect yourself and the ones you love.

you are: ripley moon-dal ahn

age: twenty-five gender & pronouns: demigirl, she/they faceclaim: kang mina occupation: librarian at the capital library

the interpretation:

tw: mentions of anxiety, panic attacks Ripley was always an anxious child. Terrified of the dark and thunder, she’d hide behind her mother’s skirts and cry to her father at any suspicious disturbance. Probably not what her dad expected when naming their child after his favorite movie character. There was only really so much she could find comfort in, but one thing that they could always count on was her stories. She poured over books and comics, the fantasy of it all making her feel much safer than what the outside world could offer her. (That, and sleep; which was considered a lot less productive than the other.) Being soft-spoken and timid also seemed to put her in the shadow of a much louder older brother, so she found herself watching much more than anything else.

 Life seemed to flow in that constant buzz, of her hiding and living somewhere in her head instead. But then, something changed when they turned sixteen. A splitting headache during lunch which they thought was just a normal migraine (reading in the dark wasn’t healthy, she knew) turned out to be much more. They were sent home after a major panic attack - she didn’t exactly expect her favorite literature teacher to turn out to be a vampire.  

 No one knows what triggered it, or if it had been a curse that had fallen upon her, but from then Ripley suddenly became very involved with the Street Beasts. Her family found quick use of her ability, even if it was rarely ever used due to her age. Still, there was a reason why her parents didn’t want her involved until she was older. She only found her anxieties and fears to grow with the added expectations, suddenly being given far too much attention from parents who set her aside for most of her life. Hence, upon graduating high school, she ran away to a college far from Castor.

 But then, they quickly found that it was much worse out of Castor. She felt safer in Castor - it was her home and the Street Beasts were tied intrinsically with her family. She never understood what that meant until she separated herself from it. Everything outside her hometown was so much beyond her scope that going into her second year of college, she moved to a campus closer to the town. From then, she decided to involve herself more, bit by bit and by her own time to properly understand her lineage and unique ability.

 They currently live with their grandmother, who works closest with the Street Beasts in the family right now primarily as a medic for more… unexplainable injuries and post-full moon care. It also helps a lot more for her to feel safe in the town. She got her Masters in Library Science to become a librarian at the Capital Library (a quiet dream made reality) a year ago, which puts her in an interesting position with the current hostilities around town magnified by her ability.

 Ripley is still pretty anxious and obsessed with stories, but she’s grown with some semblance of grace. She tries her best with whatever the world throws at her, having realized a while ago that she can’t go on living in her cocoon especially when she has abilities like this. They’re a lot more rational than one would expect, and applies that when helping out with whatever they can. Though she is a bit more of a doormat than she’d admit, loathing confrontation and finding it hard to speak over more dominant voices. It makes her pretty invisible, especially as the local librarian, though that can be an advantage as much as a weakness.

played by jala !

[newstfionline]

Christians in the Holy Land resist land deals by their church

By Ruth Eglash, Washington Post, December 23, 2017

JERUSALEM--Beside a nondescript stretch of highway linking Bethlehem to Jerusalem, there’s a large shiny rock and a cluster of olive trees. This place, called Kathisma or “seat” in Greek, is said to be where the Virgin Mary rested and drank from a well, not long before giving birth in a stable to Jesus.

Today, the only clue to that history is the ruins of a Byzantine church, with a vibrant mosaic floor peeking through mud and smashed beer bottles. And while the ruins themselves remain in the hands of the Greek Orthodox Church, all the surrounding East Jerusalem property has been leased by the church to an Israeli company, according to municipal records.

The Greek Orthodox Church, which serves as a custodian for many such Christian sites in Israel and the Palestinian territories, is coming under increasing criticism from its followers for repeatedly giving up control of its property, either through land sales or multi-decade leases.

The church’s practice of selling and leasing its properties has caused a split between its followers, who are overwhelmingly Arabic-speaking Palestinians, and the leadership, or Holy Synod, made up mostly of Greek nationals.

Local Christians say they fear that disposing of the land erodes their already shrinking presence in the Holy Land. And, they say, the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate has no right to sell or lease the properties in the first place. They claim it’s land that belongs to them, given by their ancestors to the church for safekeeping during turbulent times, although they offer no evidence to prove this.

Over the past few months, church members have rallied in the West Bank and Jerusalem. They also have taken their campaign to social media and filed a lawsuit relating to some of the properties. Activists want the church to open its files and be more transparent. Some are even calling for their leader, Patriarch Theophilos III of Jerusalem, to resign.

The tensions have forced Theophilos to seek support abroad. This month, he met with Russian President Vladimir Putin and before that with Pope Francis to give an accounting of the land deals and the growing complaints.

“A hundred years ago, there was no way for my grandfather to make this struggle against the church, but we’ve had enough. We want to fight back,” said Issa Rishmawi, a Greek Orthodox Palestinian from Beit Sahour, a town next to Bethlehem.

Residents of Beit Jala, another Christian-majority town near Bethlehem, sent a letter last week to the patriarch saying he would not be welcome this year at the town’s pre-Christmas celebrations. Rishmawi said that instead of sending Scout troops with drums and flags to the annual holiday parades, there would be protests.

The leadership of the Greek Orthodox Church has defended its management of the properties. It says in most cases it has leased the land to tenants rather than selling it, protecting the properties while at the same time earning revenue to sustain its religious mission.

“Everything we have done is with approval of the synod, but there are individuals who have their own agenda to attack us and slander us,” Theophilos said in an interview. “We are a religious institution with a spiritual mission here for more than 2,000 years.”

A document put together by the Orthodox Central Council shows at least 20 tracts of land or properties were sold or leased in this manner over the past 10 years, garnering an estimated $101,114,285 for the church. Most of the identified properties are inside Israel, but several are in occupied territory, either East Jerusalem or the West Bank. Aleef Sabbagh, a member of the council, said most of the buyers appeared to be Israeli or Jewish-owned companies.

The church members who object to the land sales say the church leadership has made secret deals with right-wing Israeli groups seeking to expand the Jewish presence in Palestinian areas or with investors more interested in making a profit than in preserving the integrity of the sites.

Critics of the land deals point, for example, to the Hill of Evil Counsel, said to be the spot where Jewish high priest Caiaphas betrayed Jesus, deciding to hand him over to the Romans for crucifixion.

The area seems wild and abandoned, remarkable only for its breathtaking view of Jerusalem’s Old City. A tiny Byzantine church, with a few broken gravestones beside it, stands unkempt in one corner. Local monks believe this is the place where a 7th-century patriarch of Jerusalem, Modestus, a Greek Orthodox saint, is buried.

Ten years ago, the Greek Orthodox church leased the property, in West Jerusalem, to American Jewish philanthropist Michael Steinhardt and U.K.-based Israeli businessman David Sofer, according to property records. In recent months, Jerusalem’s city council approved plans to build a luxury housing complex on the site despite protests from local residents, a mixture of Arabs and Jews.

Patriarch Theophilos said he has had no choice but to sell or lease land held by the church. He said he needs revenue to finance day-to-day church business in Israel and the Palestinian territories, as well as in Jordan and Qatar--all areas under his jurisdiction--and to pay off debts left over from bad real estate deals executed by his predecessors.

In some cases, he said, the Israeli government pressured him into selling the property or leasing it cheaply. In other cases, he said the land was expropriated by the government.

“The patriarch is trying to make the narrative about religion and politics against Israel in order to calm their detractors,” said Fleur Hassan-Nahoum, leader of the opposition in Jerusalem’s city council.

“This story is truly about business interests and deals that have gone wrong and others that have made very tidy profits for all sides both over and under the table,” she said.

[florenceisfalling]

when i was in preschool there was a girl named charlie, short for charlotte, who had a messy poof of curly red hair and a big smile. she’d play with me all the time and sometimes would stand on the other side of the wire fence that separated my school’s play yard from everything else. i didnt understand why she never got in trouble for being on the other side but i’d get in trouble if i tried to climb over.

she was really sweet to me, and wanted to read my picture books, and would sit on the swing with me. we’d play a game where we’d count as high as we could and pretend our ages were the seconds, “i’m 300 years old, i’m 301 years old...”

hell, one day, i even sent my necklace home with her all tangled up, because she said “my dad will fix it.” and guess what! she brought it back fixed!

i named a big teddy bear i still have “charlie” after her.

years later, i was looking over my preschool photos of all the class sitting together on the picnic table. and i asked, “wait, where’s charlie?”

and mom said, “there wasn’t a charlie in your class.”

that school was a small private school; i went to it until eighth grade, and the staff stayed mostly the same. so i went up to my ex-preschool teacher one day in seventh grade and asked if she remembered charlotte. and she said no, so i gave her a description of char and she shook her head. nope. no one like that in my class. i asked her if charlie was maybe a neighbor kid who came up to the fence to play, and she said that she wouldve noticed that. she said i just played a lot by myself.

i even asked the other girls who went to preschool with me and they said they never knew a charlie.

and the thing is, i had a wild imagination, but i nearly always knew the distinction between my imagination and reality. i had an imaginary friend at the time named jala who i loved and babbled about constantly, but i knew she wasn’t real- i’d constantly mention how she was just pretend and how i could change her rules anytime i wanted (like, originally she was from australia, but i changed it to alaska). so charlie was not my imaginary friend.

i also know i was young but sincerely believe i wasn’t just being a confused little kid - yeah, i was in preschool, but i was really mature at the time and advanced in school and just,,, kinda in general?? (and then that died quick, which is why im so stupid now <3) but like my parents and teachers all agree that i probably wouldn’t just see something that wasn’t real for a year straight and then think it was real. 

so?? yeah what the fuck??

was thinking about this ghost i befriended as a kid and almost iMMEDIATELY started crying. wtf

[haunt-me-x3]

Me and my friend jala just mentioend to each other today, after 5 years of friendship, that we're both hellenic polytheists We had a rly long in depth conversation about it and psychic shit and other spiritual new agey shit but its so ?? Nice??? To have someone to talk to about your obscure religion who rly gets it and feels the same things She thinks me and a group of her friends she met online are embodiments of the gods they follow, for example shes not sure but she thinks she may be a part / an incarnation of Lethe, the spirit of forgetfulness and oblivion bevause she felt drawn to her and also does past life regression hypnosis for people sometimes, and lethe does a lot with forgotten memories Im drawn the artemis and i could be an embodiment of her because i feel drawn to the moon and im fiercely protective of younger girls and animals, Orion's belt is my favorite constellation and if you know the story behind that, its significant (basically orion was artemis's only male follower and he was the handsomest man in the world and he was gay and artemis is celibate so they were really good friends and hunted together but apollo played a joke on him and sent him a nightmare and artemis yelled at him for it and apollo was like 'btw one of ur girls got raped' so she went to find the guy who did it but accidentally shot orion and he died and she made his belt into stars) Anyways im rambling but yeah idk

[watchigtbj]

On Tuesday 24th December 2019, a special Christmas Service at the Manger Square in Bethlehem – the historic birthplace of Jesus Christ – was broadcast live on Emmanuel TV, the popular television channel belonging to Nigerian Pastor TB Joshua. 

Representatives of TB Joshua were received personally by the Mayor of Bethlehem, Adv. Anton Salman, who sent a greeting to the Nigerian cleric and said the message of Bethlehem to the world would “always be a message of peace, love and justice”.

Mayor Salman then gave the Emmanuel TV Choir unprecedented access to celebrate Christmas in the world-famous Grotto at the Church of the Nativity, historically regarded as the site where Jesus was born and a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Joined by US Gospel Artist VaShawn Mitchell, the choir recorded and sang a song composed specially by TB Joshua in honour of the season.

According to the lyrics: “Christmas is not only about Christ of history. Christmas is not only about Christ of story. Christmas is not only about baby Jesus. Christmas is about Christ the Spirit reveals to us.”

Moving to the Manger Square, thousands of local residents in Bethlehem and tourists who travelled from across the globe to celebrate Christmas at Jesus’ birthplace, gathered to celebrate with the Emmanuel TV choir.

“This season reminds us of the message on the Cross – ‘Father, forgive them’,”TB Joshua said in a message delivered by one of his evangelists to the throngs in attendance.

“This means that whether you are a victim or a perpetrator, we all stand in helpless need of God’s Divine forgiveness,”he continued.

“This season, make it a point of duty to love others just as you would want God to love you, to bless others just as you would want God to bless you and to forgive others just as you would want God to forgive you.”

After singing two new songs composed by TB Joshua titled ‘Who On Earth’ and ‘Jesus Is The Reason’, VaShawn treated the crowd to a rendition of his hit song ‘Joy’.

It is not Joshua’s first involved with the ‘Holy Land’. When the cleric visited Bethlehem in 2017, he saw an “urgent need” in the kidney division of the Beit Jala hospital and bought six new dialysis machines to help the patients.

He also held a two-day crusade at the Amphitheatre of Mount Precipice in Nazareth, Israel in June 2019 which attracted thousands from around the world.

VIDEO –

Ihechukwu Njoku is a freelance Nigerian journalist…

TB Joshua’s Emmanuel TV Celebrates Christmas in Bethlehem! On Tuesday 24th December 2019, a special Christmas Service at the Manger Square in Bethlehem – the historic birthplace of Jesus Christ – was broadcast live on Emmanuel TV, the popular television channel belonging to Nigerian Pastor TB Joshua. 

[wizardsnwookies]

Campaign Diary- FOC102617

“I thought you all would appreciate this...” Rugor reclined in his chair and sent the screen on his datapad to the holo projector in the middle of the room so everyone could see. The image split onto three different screens, the largest being a string of code scrolling in a narrow window that they could only assume be feeding the results shown on the smaller pair on the other side. 

“ ‘By the generocity of Numb Nibn, the 23 is proud to announce that from now on every Friday night is now ‘Alien Night.’“ Vrssl let the hand holding his spanner relax against a knee.

“Too much?”

“Not at all.”

“Good because what you’re seeing on the second screen is the Zaaghet’s rating of the 23 plummeting due to a sudden and unfortunate string of bad reviews. A string that will eventually peter off...before picking up again periodically at random.”

Kara laughed and took a bite of a Jala fruit, wiping the juice from her face as it dribbled down her chin. She had decided they deserved to treat themselves after the recent payday, one that had earned them an extra 1,000 credits thanks to Rugor’s forged repossession paperwork. The Rodian speeder dealer wasn’t terrible worried that this would all come back to him, but he greatly appreciated the extra insurance should it happen.

GROWWWR?

“Let me check.” Rugor made a few taps on his data pad and suddenly the projected image became a blur of pages. Kara was impressed, even she wasn’t that fast on the draw with a holo net search. “Huh, looks like they either haven’t found our friend yet or are suppressing the report.”

“Probably the latter.” Vrssl went back to his tinkering while he spoke. He had managed to finish the re-configuring of the arm cannons a few hours ago and at this point was idly pulling things apart and putting them back together while he waited for Rugor to finish the shell programs on the processors. “Not exactly something the imperials would want to broadcast.”

“They ARE reporting a disturbance at the 23 and are currently seeking a wookie for questioning in the matter.”

GROR ROWRK

“Save it for the fights big guy.” Vrssl said.

“Speaking of which, have you given any thought to...performance enhancers?” Rugor looked at the text the appeared on the datapad. He had installed a translator program so that Vrssl wouldn’t constantly have to act as the go between.

[LEGAL?]

“Does it matter?”

[DISQUALIFICATION?]

“It’s an underground fighting ring I’m not sure of the rules, if there are any. Regardless it could come in handy if things get hairy for you.”

[CHEATING NO PROBLEM. DON’T WANT DISQUALIFICATION.]

“Well then don’t get caught.”

Kara shifted in her seat and pulled her communicator out of her back pocket, pulling the large purple fruit out of her mouth before answering. She didn’t bother to swallow first.

“Yeah...hang on.” Kara muted the comm. “You guys interested in another job? Charmer says it’s time sensitive so he needs an answer now.”

The group looked at each other and offered a shrug and a nod. Neither one of them was going to say ‘no’ to more money.

“We’re in. Same place? Got it. See you then.” Kara silenced the come and took another bite of fruit, talking between slurps of the sweet juice that exploded into her mouth. “When’s the other shoe going to drop on this guy?”

“There’s something bigger going on here. I for one want to get more information out of him before we do anything permanent.” Vrssl crossed his arms and thought for a moment. He didn’t know why, but there was something about this that just didn’t add up. “But we can’t just sit on it either. We need to update Graakus and let him know we’re still following the trail, see how far the leak goes.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Kara took one last bite and tossed the core in the incinerator. “We got an hour before we meet him. I’ll be in the refresher.”

---

“Ok, so we don’t have a lot of time on this like I said, just the brass tacks.” Charmer leaned forward in his creaking chair, he could smell Kara from here, a mix of Jala juice and a flowery perfume. Her hair was a lot cleaner than usual, the entire group in general had looked much better off than the last time he saw them. Weedo paid him his commission with his compliments to the team for going the extra mile. Unfortunately his was only a finders fee and did not include  the same kicker they got.

“I’m assuming you’re all familiar with Blastek? Leading supplier of offensive technology in the galaxy. Not only that but they are the sole military contract holder to the Empire. Unfortunately for them said contract didn’t include any kind of term agreement, so they could be dropped for another contractor at any time the Empire sees fit.

“Now there’s a new game in town, ‘Destructive Solutions’ a small startup that’s gaining some clout in the industry. Word has it they are planning some big reveals at the next trade show, and Blastek is getting nervous.

“They tried influencing a buyout by planting corporate spies into the company but the deal never went through. What their spies DID manage to come out with is an extremely exploitable flaw in their security; their security staff is hopelessly addicted to the arena fights.”

“As in, Graakus’s arena fights?” Vrssl prodded, though more out of reaction than genuine need of clarification.

“Hell, half of them are pulling double shifts to cover their bets.” Charmer nodded. “So here’s the job. Make your way into the complex, drain their data completely; schematics, research reports, memos, everything. You can keep whatever working tech you can carry out, but once you’re done the entire place need to be a pile of slag. Ruin them completely. Any questions?”

“Does it have to be tonight?” Rugor asked.

“Why not? You guys have a hot date or something?”

“Graalbar is in the fights tonight.”

“So much the better, put on a show, keep them glued to the holo net instead of the security cameras.”

“I’m just concerned about the loss of muscle is all.” Rugor shifted slightly against the wall.

“Look, I told you this job was time sensitive and you accepted. I already gave you sensitive information, you back out now you’re making things very difficult for me.”

“Well, not really. I mean, it’s not the first time you’d have a second party in on things.” Vrssl smiled, he was toying with Charmer but at the same time he wanted to see how he would react.

“That was...extenuating circumstances. I told you. I was in a bad situation, and it’s not going to happen again.”

“It’ll be fine.” Vrssl nodded before turning to Rugor. “We’ll make it work.”

---

“Ok, first of all...I’ve been to Alderaan and trust me, it doesn’t smell anywhere this good...especially not these days.” Kara turned an especially seedy corner of Huttown without blinking an eye at the imposing figures looming in the shadows. She had her own imposing figure right next to her, and his name was Graalbar. “And secondly someone like you, with all that hair, should seriously consider using some of this stuff. You’ll feel like you’re covered in satin, might even loosen up some of those tangles. It’s in the refresher, I bought a ton of it, go nuts.”

GRAWR RAAAAAALW

“I’m not going to argue with that. There is absolutely nothing intimidating about a two-meter tall wookie who smells like a meadow with the hair of a god. But at the same time, it gives you the element of surprise. Who is really going to expect someone like that to rip their arms off?”

Graalbar pondered this for a moment until they stopped in front of a gaunt looking Ithorian wearing a long tattered coat. She greeted them in a heavily accented basic, and her eyes twitched every other second. He couldn’t help but ask himself, what is it with them and always getting the tweaked out Ithorians?

“What c-can I help you with?”

“We’re looking for something with a little ‘edge.’“ Kara gave the Ithorian a long look-over, keeping her hand akimbo on her hip, close to her blaster.

“Ah, say no more. I have Stims, should give you a bit of a pick-me up, and for a little extra p-punch I have some Jet.” The dealer took a long glance upward at the wookie. “Is this for h-him?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I-It is if you want to get your m-money’s worth. Stims are all well and good for you and me, but for him. He might want something with a little m-more juice.”

Kara nodded. “Fair enough. What’ll it be G-man?”

GRAWWK ROOOOOWR

“Jet? It’s an elevator, I’ve seen plenty of fighters on the stuff.”

ROOORWR

“Well, I’ve never taken it myself but I’ve heard it knocks you down a couple pegs once it wares off.”

GRAWR RORK

“Stims it is. Give us half a dozen of each, the regular dose and suped up stuff.” Kara offered out a handfull of cred sticks. 

“Very g-good.” The ithorian eagerly pocketed the cred-sticks. She liked the weight of them on her person and decided to make one last push. “Sure I can’t t-tempt you with some Jet? S-someone like you could use it and make a k-killing in the arenas.”

Graalbar pondered for a moment before eventually holding up a single hairy finger.

“Pleasure d-doing business with you.” The Ithorian passed the wookie a small object that looked like a ball set in the top of an inhaler. He wasn’t sure he’d needed it, but you never know.

“Alright we done here? Cause I’ve got my own shopping to do. I’ve had this data pad rig in my sights for a while now.” Kara tugged on Graalbar’s arm and rushed him out of the alley.

RAWR RORK

“So what? We’ve got a job tonight PLUS all those bets you guys are having me place on you in the arenas. I’ll make it all back by morning and then some.”

RAAAARG

“Ok smart ass, what wise investments are you putting your credits into?”

Kara began to drool as Graalbar listed off a wide assortment of dishes and delicacies from an even wider variety of planets of origin. Half of which she knew only by his description, all of which sounded absolutely delicious.

“...great, now I’M hungry.”