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superfuji · 2 years

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Uno sguardo sintetico e quanto possibile de-ideologizzato ci mostra quanto segue:

• una presenza pervasiva di basi militari statunitensi, motivata da ragioni economiche (petrolio e gas), politiche (contenere l’influenza delle altre Grandi Potenze e tener a bada le nazioni ostili o giudicate tali da Israele), imperialistiche (tutelare i profitti delle corporations/industria militare e il ruolo egemonico del dollaro), geostrategiche (l’ostilità verso ogni nazione resistente alla sottomissione). Tali finalità interagiscono tra loro sommandosi agli obiettivi della teoria del caos (dividere amici e nemici, alimentare ovunque tensioni e conflitti, neutralizzare i contender states e via dicendo, allo scopo di perpetuare il dominio unilaterale sul mondo); tale ipertrofia espansionista (generata da quel messianismo neotestamentario che dato vita alla sola nazione indispensabile al mondo, secondo la patologia lessicale di W. Clinton, 1999) costituisce uno dei principali fattori di instabilità nella regione;

• l’irrisolta questione palestinese resta centrale. Con diversa modulazione, per tutti quei paesi e popoli, arabi, turchi, curdi, iraniani e altri ancora, essa è motivo di cupo risentimento verso l’Occidente (soprattutto gli Stati Uniti, grandi protettori di Israele, e in misura minore le nazioni ex-coloniali, Francia e Regno Unito, complici attive o silenti, a seconda dei momenti);

• Israele, innesto storico imposto nel XX secolo dalle grandi potenze, è oggi una realtà politica imprescindibile. Circondato da nazioni diffidenti e ostili, lo Stato Ebraico è tema di politica interna non solo estera negli Usa, e attraverso le potenti lobby pro-israeliane esercita una forte influenza negli Stati Uniti sul piano politico, economico, mediatico, accademico e via dicendo. In conflitto sistemico con il mondo arabo, Israele guarda alla questione palestinese solo in termini di rapporti di forza, avendo da tempo abbandonato l’opzione dei due stati, la sola che potrebbe aprire qualche spiraglio. Inadempiente verso numerose Risoluzioni del Consiglio di Sicurezza delle Nazioni Unite nei riguardi dei palestinesi, Israele è il solo paese della regione in possesso di armi nucleari (persino con capacità di secondo colpo, tramite i sottomarini armati di testate) e non aderente al Trattato di Non Proliferazione Nucleare. Israele è inoltre tra i pochissimi paesi al mondo a non aver ratificato né la Convenzione Internazionale sulle Armi Chimiche né quella sulle Armi Biologiche;

• le ricorrenti esplosioni di rabbia (Gaza una prigione a cielo aperto, espropriazioni, soprusi e discriminazioni nel resto del paese) costituiscono fattori di perenne instabilità. Un’ipotetica apertura verso la soluzione dei due stati presuppone l’avvio di un percorso di riappacificazione storica con il mondo arabo-mussulmano, che per ora non è alle viste;

• solo l’intervento russo iniziato nell’autunno 2015 ha consentito di sconfiggere lo Stato Islamico (Isis), seppure non del tutto. Si fa fatica a immaginare che il più grande esercito del mondo non sia stato in grado di farlo per suo conto. Del resto, non era quello il principale obiettivo degli Stati Uniti, che miravano alla destabilizzazione della Siria e alla cacciata di Bashar al-Assad, per le ragioni sopra indicate, pur essendo costui nemico di Israele, ma come suo padre Hafiz un nemico ideale, quieto e rassegnato;

• tutti sulla carta hanno combattuto l’Isis (Iraq-Siria Islamic State), figlio della guerra illegittima Usa-UK contro Saddam, ma insieme agli Stati Uniti, anche Turchia, Arabia Saudita/monarchie del Golfo hanno mirato soprattutto a distruggere la Siria, indebolire Hezbollah e contenere la cosiddetta espansione iraniana, sebbene la presenza iraniana in Siria sia invero limitata in mezzi e uomini. Seguaci e armi dell’Isis sono una derivata dell’esercito di Saddam allo sbando, cui si è associata la cosiddetta opposizione siriana moderata, sin dall’inizio finanziata e armata dagli Stati Uniti. La disfatta del Califfato inizia con l’arrivo delle truppe russe, legittimamente chiamate dal presidente siriano al-Assad, come del resto quelle iraniane e di Hezbollah;

• per la Turchia la lotta contro l’Isis è stata sempre subordinata alle sue priorità, la disfatta dei curdi siriani, giudicati una minaccia esistenziale per il panturchismo neo-ottomano in ritardo con la storia, alla luce dell’arretratezza politica e culturale di una dirigenza, quella turca, incapace di riconoscere agibilità politica ai propri cittadini di etnia curda, che superano il 25 per cento della popolazione;

• la Siria è stata invasa ed è tuttora occupata da soldati turchi e statunitensi (mercenari o regolari cambia poco), in plateale violazione del diritto internazionale. Il suo presidente (il giudizio etico sulla persona, che resta un dittatore, non ha qui alcuna rilevanza) è pienamente legittimato secondo il diritto internazionale a recuperare il controllo del territorio nazionale contro invasori e rivoltosi: Isis, turchi, statunitensi (britannici, francesi e altri, comunque camuffati), ciascuno con una propria agenda;

• l’Unione Europea (Ue) – costola afona dell’impero Usa, governata da una tecnocrazia non elettiva al servizio delle oligarchie globaliste – non è un soggetto politico indipendente, ma solo un protettorato statunitense, e dunque svolge un ruolo irrilevante. L’Italia, eterno vaso di coccio, per dirla con il grande scrittore milanese, e anch’essa da tempo desovranizzata, è sistematicamente asservita a interessi altrui, nonostante la sua centralità mediterranea di straordinario valore strategico;

• una lunga lista di endemiche violazioni di diritti umani e/o del diritto internazionale da parte statunitense (tra le recenti, la vicenda Assange, le prigioni extragiudiziarie di Guantánamo e Abu Ghraib, extraordinary renditions, le guerre illegittime in Iraq, Libia, Serbia, etc.) e la pratica del doppio standard (i dittatori si dividono tra amici e nemici) hanno da tempo tolto alla potenza egemone ogni credibilità;

• diversi popoli sono privi di patria: palestinesi e curdi certo, ma anche baluci (divisi tra Iran e Pakistan), Lori e Qashqai (in Iran) e altri ancora. Tutti insieme formano un’insidiosa pentola a pressione, un fuoco che arde sotto la cenere e causa ovunque instabilità in un contesto di repressione e povertà diffuse;

• il fattore R-Religione (sunniti, sciiti, zaiditi, ismaeliti, alawiti, aleviti, drusi cristiani, ebrei e altri) è ovunque centrale (Libano, Siria, Iran, Arabia Saudita, Bahrein, Egitto e … Israele). Contrasti e privilegi delle gerarchie religiose si sommano a quelli dei ceti laici dominanti. Sia nel mondo islamico (in misura minore anche in Israele) la separazione tra Stato e Religione è tuttora un tema irrisolto;

• mentre non è immaginabile un attacco dell’Iran contro Israele o Stati Uniti (il divario di fuoco è incolmabile e gli iraniani saranno radicali ma non suicidi), non si può invece escludere il contrario, un evento che sarebbe illegittimo per il diritto internazionale e foriero di conseguenze devastanti per il mondo intero.

Iran e Vicino Oriente: rompicapo regionale e grandi potenze

#esteri #geopolitica #medio oriente #guerra #war

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lesmislettersdaily · 2 years

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A Double Quartette

Volume 1: Fantine; Book 3: In The Year 1817; Chapter 2

These Parisians came, one from Toulouse, another from Limoges, the third from Cahors, and the fourth from Montauban; but they were students; and when one says student, one says Parisian: to study in Paris is to be born in Paris.

These young men were insignificant; every one has seen such faces; four specimens of humanity taken at random; neither good nor bad, neither wise nor ignorant, neither geniuses nor fools; handsome, with that charming April which is called twenty years. They were four Oscars; for, at that epoch, Arthurs did not yet exist. Burn for him the perfumes of Araby! exclaimed romance. Oscar advances. Oscar, I shall behold him! People had just emerged from Ossian; elegance was Scandinavian and Caledonian; the pure English style was only to prevail later, and the first of the Arthurs, Wellington, had but just won the battle of Waterloo.

These Oscars bore the names, one of Félix Tholomyès, of Toulouse; the second, Listolier, of Cahors; the next, Fameuil, of Limoges; the last, Blachevelle, of Montauban. Naturally, each of them had his mistress. Blachevelle loved Favourite, so named because she had been in England; Listolier adored Dahlia, who had taken for her nickname the name of a flower; Fameuil idolized Zéphine, an abridgment of Joséphine; Tholomyès had Fantine, called the Blonde, because of her beautiful, sunny hair.

Favourite, Dahlia, Zéphine, and Fantine were four ravishing young women, perfumed and radiant, still a little like working-women, and not yet entirely divorced from their needles; somewhat disturbed by intrigues, but still retaining on their faces something of the serenity of toil, and in their souls that flower of honesty which survives the first fall in woman. One of the four was called the young, because she was the youngest of them, and one was called the old; the old one was twenty-three. Not to conceal anything, the three first were more experienced, more heedless, and more emancipated into the tumult of life than Fantine the Blonde, who was still in her first illusions.

Dahlia, Zéphine, and especially Favourite, could not have said as much. There had already been more than one episode in their romance, though hardly begun; and the lover who had borne the name of Adolph in the first chapter had turned out to be Alphonse in the second, and Gustave in the third. Poverty and coquetry are two fatal counsellors; one scolds and the other flatters, and the beautiful daughters of the people have both of them whispering in their ear, each on its own side. These badly guarded souls listen. Hence the falls which they accomplish, and the stones which are thrown at them. They are overwhelmed with splendor of all that is immaculate and inaccessible. Alas! what if the Jungfrau were hungry?

Favourite having been in England, was admired by Dahlia and Zéphine. She had had an establishment of her own very early in life. Her father was an old unmarried professor of mathematics, a brutal man and a braggart, who went out to give lessons in spite of his age. This professor, when he was a young man, had one day seen a chambermaid’s gown catch on a fender; he had fallen in love in consequence of this accident. The result had been Favourite. She met her father from time to time, and he bowed to her. One morning an old woman with the air of a devotee, had entered her apartments, and had said to her, “You do not know me, Mamemoiselle?” “No.” “I am your mother.” Then the old woman opened the sideboard, and ate and drank, had a mattress which she owned brought in, and installed herself. This cross and pious old mother never spoke to Favourite, remained hours without uttering a word, breakfasted, dined, and supped for four, and went down to the porter’s quarters for company, where she spoke ill of her daughter.

It was having rosy nails that were too pretty which had drawn Dahlia to Listolier, to others perhaps, to idleness. How could she make such nails work? She who wishes to remain virtuous must not have pity on her hands. As for Zéphine, she had conquered Fameuil by her roguish and caressing little way of saying “Yes, sir.”

The young men were comrades; the young girls were friends. Such loves are always accompanied by such friendships.

Goodness and philosophy are two distinct things; the proof of this is that, after making all due allowances for these little irregular households, Favourite, Zéphine, and Dahlia were philosophical young women, while Fantine was a good girl.

Good! some one will exclaim; and Tholomyès? Solomon would reply that love forms a part of wisdom. We will confine ourselves to saying that the love of Fantine was a first love, a sole love, a faithful love.

She alone, of all the four, was not called “thou” by a single one of them.

Fantine was one of those beings who blossom, so to speak, from the dregs of the people. Though she had emerged from the most unfathomable depths of social shadow, she bore on her brow the sign of the anonymous and the unknown. She was born at M. sur M. Of what parents? Who can say? She had never known father or mother. She was called Fantine. Why Fantine? She had never borne any other name. At the epoch of her birth the Directory still existed. She had no family name; she had no family; no baptismal name; the Church no longer existed. She bore the name which pleased the first random passer-by, who had encountered her, when a very small child, running bare-legged in the street. She received the name as she received the water from the clouds upon her brow when it rained. She was called little Fantine. No one knew more than that. This human creature had entered life in just this way. At the age of ten, Fantine quitted the town and went to service with some farmers in the neighborhood. At fifteen she came to Paris “to seek her fortune.” Fantine was beautiful, and remained pure as long as she could. She was a lovely blonde, with fine teeth. She had gold and pearls for her dowry; but her gold was on her head, and her pearls were in her mouth.

She worked for her living; then, still for the sake of her living,—for the heart, also, has its hunger,—she loved.

She loved Tholomyès.

An amour for him; passion for her. The streets of the Latin quarter, filled with throngs of students and grisettes, saw the beginning of their dream. Fantine had long evaded Tholomyès in the mazes of the hill of the Pantheon, where so many adventurers twine and untwine, but in such a way as constantly to encounter him again. There is a way of avoiding which resembles seeking. In short, the eclogue took place.

Blachevelle, Listolier, and Fameuil formed a sort of group of which Tholomyès was the head. It was he who possessed the wit.

Tholomyès was the antique old student; he was rich; he had an income of four thousand francs; four thousand francs! a splendid scandal on Mount Sainte-Geneviève. Tholomyès was a fast man of thirty, and badly preserved. He was wrinkled and toothless, and he had the beginning of a bald spot, of which he himself said with sadness, the skull at thirty, the knee at forty. His digestion was mediocre, and he had been attacked by a watering in one eye. But in proportion as his youth disappeared, gayety was kindled; he replaced his teeth with buffooneries, his hair with mirth, his health with irony, his weeping eye laughed incessantly. He was dilapidated but still in flower. His youth, which was packing up for departure long before its time, beat a retreat in good order, bursting with laughter, and no one saw anything but fire. He had had a piece rejected at the Vaudeville. He made a few verses now and then. In addition to this he doubted everything to the last degree, which is a vast force in the eyes of the weak. Being thus ironical and bald, he was the leader. Iron is an English word. Is it possible that irony is derived from it?

One day Tholomyès took the three others aside, with the gesture of an oracle, and said to them:—

“Fantine, Dahlia, Zéphine, and Favourite have been teasing us for nearly a year to give them a surprise. We have promised them solemnly that we would. They are forever talking about it to us, to me in particular, just as the old women in Naples cry to Saint Januarius, ‘Faccia gialluta, fa o miracolo, Yellow face, perform thy miracle,’ so our beauties say to me incessantly, ‘Tholomyès, when will you bring forth your surprise?’ At the same time our parents keep writing to us. Pressure on both sides. The moment has arrived, it seems to me; let us discuss the question.”

Thereupon, Tholomyès lowered his voice and articulated something so mirthful, that a vast and enthusiastic grin broke out upon the four mouths simultaneously, and Blachevelle exclaimed, “That is an idea.”

A smoky tap-room presented itself; they entered, and the remainder of their confidential colloquy was lost in shadow.

The result of these shades was a dazzling pleasure party which took place on the following Sunday, the four young men inviting the four young girls.

#les mis #les mis letters #volume 1: fantine #book 3: in the year 1817 #chapter 2

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latribune · 1 month

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przebudzeniemilosci · 2 months

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Tesknie za Tobą dziś, tęsknię za Twoim przytuleniem, za mega długim przytuleniem. Cały dzień o Tobie myślę i nie dajesz mi spokoju. A ja nie wiem, gdzie jesteś, może z kim jesteś. Czy teraz masz się lepiej, czy ktoś daje Ci to czego przy mnie nie było? Czy czujesz się kochany?

Mimo, że tęsknię za Tobą dziś, to wiem, że jestem lepszym człowiekiem bez Ciebie. Choć łamie mi to serce dzisiaj i łzy lecą po twarzy, to wiedz, że jestem szczęśliwszy. Pewnego dnia będę mógł myśleć o Tobie bez smutku. Zmienię nas w mojej głowie w piękną lekcje, która daliśmy sobie. Dziękuję Ci Mój Ty Arabie.

Hej, jeśli spodobał Ci się ten post na blogu, podziel się nim ze swoimi obserwatorami. Pomoże mi to zwiększyć liczbę obserwujących i zadowolić twoich – dzięki!

#overthinking #love #moje przemyslenia #sad but true #miłość #ból psychiczny #ból emocjonalny #nie poddam się

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shamemp3 · 7 months

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sh2ad ba7eb w ba7terem el sha3b el arabi bs sh2ad bakrah 7okomatna el 5ayneen eli bsawoo shar feena

#deleting later bc im still too scared to talk abt our govs 😍#tbd

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wordwabbit · 9 months

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Araby

James Joyce, 1 photographic print, b&w, cartes-de-visites, 9.2 x 6.1 on mount 10.5 x 6.5 cm. (Photo credit: Wikipedia) By James Joyce; 6 pages As I read Araby, I was reminded that in every story the main character has to want something. In Araby, the young man wants to impress a girl. The girl mentions a bazaar that she cannot go to and recommends it to our love-struck narrator/protagonist. He…

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personal-reporter · 1 year

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Un viaggio nel passato: Itinerari turistici nella Regione Sicilia

La Sicilia è un luogo magico e misterioso, che attrae turisti provenienti da tutto il mondo dall'inizio dei tempi. Il mare cristallino, il clima mediterraneo, la cucina deliziosa e la storia millenaria della regione sono solo alcune delle ragioni per cui tantissimi visitatori scelgono di trascorrere le proprie vacanze in questa parte d'Italia. In questo articolo, parleremo di alcuni degli itinerari turistici più affascinanti per scoprire il passato della Sicilia e il suo patrimonio culturale unico. Iniziamo il nostro viaggio nel passato nella città di Palermo, capitale della Sicilia. Qui, si possono ammirare una moltitudine di monumenti storici, come la Cattedrale di Palermo, il Palazzo dei Normanni e la Chiesa di San Giovanni degli Eremiti. Un'altra tappa imperdibile è la famosa Cappella Palatina, un esempio stupefacente di architettura arabo-normanna, con mosaici bizantini e arabi che si mescolano in modo sorprendente. Non dimentichiamo poi il Teatro Massimo, il più grande teatro lirico d'Italia che venne edificato alla fine dell'800 ma fu inaugurato solamente nel 1997. Non molto lontano da Palermo si trova Monreale, una città famosa per la sua Cattedrale dedicata a Santa Maria Nuova. La Cattedrale è un capolavoro di arte romanico-gotica, con mosaici bizantini di eccezionale bellezza che rappresentano scene della Bibbia. La Cattedrale di Monreale è uno dei luoghi più importanti della Sicilia e sicuramente vale la pena visitarla. Continuiamo il nostro viaggio nel passato a Cefalù, una delle città costiere più belle della Sicilia. Qui, si trova una magnifica Cattedrale in stile normanno, edificata nel periodo compreso tra il 1131 e il 1240. Il Duomo di Cefalù è stato dichiarato Patrimonio dell'Umanità dall'UNESCO nel 2016 ed è diventato uno dei luoghi più visitati della Sicilia. Spostandoci verso l'est di Sicilia, incontriamo la città di Siracusa, famosa per il suo imponente Parco Archeologico della Neapolis, che contiene il famoso Teatro Greco, l'Anfiteatro Romano e l'Orecchio di Dionisio. La città era un importante centro culturale e politico dell'antica Grecia e ha conservato molti dei suoi tesori. Il quartiere di Ortigia è invece il centro storico di Siracusa che ospita il Duomo di Siracusa e la Fontana edificata nel secolo XVII, intorno la quale si erge un bellissimo palazzo che ospita il collegio dei notai. Tra le altre attrazioni della Sicilia spiccano la Valle dei Templi di Agrigento, un'area archeologica con alcuni dei templi greci più antichi e meglio conservati al mondo, e l'Etna, il più alto vulcano attivo d'Europa, famoso per le sue maestose eruzioni. La costa dell'isola è un'altra meta imperdibile per chi vuole scoprire il passato della Sicilia, con le sue spiagge e i suoi paesaggi mozzafiato. Il golfo di Castellammare, con le sue acque cristalline e la sua natura incontaminata, è uno dei luoghi più suggestivi della costa siciliana. Con i suoi monumenti storici, le sue incantevoli cittadine e la sua splendida costa, la Sicilia è la destinazione perfetta per chi vuole vivere un'esperienza autentica e unica. Fonti: - https://www.italia.it/it/idee-di-viaggio/viaggio-nel-patrimonio-unesco/il-parco-archeologico-della-neapolis-di-siracusa.html - https://www.lescienze.it/news/2016/07/15/news/i_tesori_di_monreale_patrimonio_unesco-3100945/ - https://www.italia.it/it/idee-di-viaggio/cultura-e-storia/sicilia-da-visistare-in-10-giorni-come-programmare-itinerari-e-percorsi-turistic.html - https://www.turismo.it/viaggi/articolo/art/sicilia-10-luoghi-imperdibili-115712/ - https://www.finedininglovers.it/articolo/viaggio-nella-sicilia-delle-meraviglie - https://guidasicilia.it/it/guida-siracusa/ortigia#sthash.g4gHlmzg.dpbs - https://www.ilpost.it/2021/04/17/teatro-massimo-palermo/ Fonte immagine: Di Wolfram Schubert from Germany - Liparic Islands, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=22316629 Read the full article

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bo-ehabb · 1 year

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Swait emt7an shno

English w arabi

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latribune · 4 months

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srbachchan · 2 years

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DAY 5187 & 5187(i)🤪

Jalsa, Mumbai April 28/29, 2022 Thu/Fri 12:18 am

lazy and tired .. shall revert later ..

Love

Amitabh Bachchan

April 29, 2022 Fri 6:55 AM

Apologies .. just one of those days .. should not have been thus , but took the liberty of an absence .. the laxity of time and the address of no time limits for work schedules does that to you .. I mean there is work but in a few days and when the routine gets disturbed, all else does too - like the BLOGOMAESTER .. 🤪

you know the absence from the work place .. like the home in general disturbs the routine of the room too .. many electricals that would have worked a 💯 per cent in normal times simply go off on a furlough .. go to sleep .. a DND of their own .. and refuse to be put on guard again .. disobeying the master as it were .. not reporting on time on set .. slumber beyond the limits .. a not interested kind of attitude that has crept it and needs a whack of the ‘बेंत’ - baent - that thin well oiled bamboo stick ready and kept in good stead in the School Principal’s office to whip our back sides on breaking rules or for indiscipline - the CANE .. !!

So even though caning has been banned in institutions and ‘capital’ punishment 🤪 an objectionable and illegal Act of the Constitution of Boarding and study platforms .. this one Act had to be exercised, albeit surreptitiously within the confines of the Jalsa private office of a certain AB .. !!!

that has been exercised by the judicious use of the W 40 ..

W 40 .. heard of it .. its that liquid spray through a thin plastic pipe that is used to clear fogged machines, rusted switches, locks and mechanical contraptions and works magically ..

and now all is fine and all stations awake .. including this 6′2″ lethargic body of human mass staggering to the morning essentials , slapping the face to get normal without the use of that dreaded ‘elixir’ - the ‘shot’ of that ‘bean’ discovered by early explorers in certain parts of the unknown and undiscovered land masses , in the beginning of the .. errr .. whats the word .. ermm .. ok World .. !!

the Drink for the Devil .. the wine of Araby .. “This devil's drink is so delicious… we should cheat the devil by baptising it!” said a Christian Saint when it was getting some revolutionary reactions due to the fact that it provided an unusual extra energy on consumption .. from then on, coffee has been dubbed the devil’s drink, or the devil’s cup.

discovered by Arab travellers or a villager in Ethiopia/ Yemen, getting great spread in Turkey, Egypt et al ..

So in avoidance we agree and get set to move ..

Off with Son to .. err .. naaaah .. not telling ..

see ya soon ..

Amitabh Bachchan

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mostlyclimatechangeweatherlog · 2 years

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#Nola #new orleans #arabi #tornado damage #tornado #louisiana #climate change #extreme weather #weather #march #2022

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plantsarefun06 · 3 years

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Creation of Lazarus

"But I know the rage that drives you. That impossible anger strangling the grief, until the memory of your loved one is just poison in your veins. And one day, you catch yourself wishing the person you loved had never existed, so you'd be spared your pain."

-Ra’s al Ghul ----

Ra’s was born in the Arabi desert, to nomads, in 1430. If you asked any person from that tribe what Ra’s was, they would say “A boy with dreams”. Ra’s had dreams of knowledge, dreams of helping others, he dreamed of having a legacy, and a great one at that.

His dreams led him to leave his tribe. He knew that as a nomad, he would never truly achieve what he wished to and the best course of action was to settle down in a great city and continue the measly education that he got as a nomad, and the great knowledge the libraries of the Sultan provided.

His studies led him to a physician. Ra’s requested to become a physician, he wanted to help others, this would offer him an opportunity to study and learn about diseases and ailments, firsthand, and offer him chances to help the sick and injured.

The physician asked for one thing. “I am infirm and soon for the grave. My daughter, Sora, she will need a husband to look after her.” That’s when he heard a yell from the curtain behind the clerk’s desk. A woman swiftly pushed back the curtain to scold her father. “I thought we agreed you’d stop trying to marry me off!”

The girl, clearly about his age, looked at him, let out a quick huff before grabbing his wrist in a vice-like grip and dragging him behind the clerk’s desk, behind the curtain, into what he could now see was a closet, with medicines and serums lining the walls, all filled with cobwebs and dust, clearly having not been used in a while.

“I’ll be honest with you Ra’s… I don’t really like boys much… but I can offer you companionship and support. And if we get married it will make my father’s last days much happier.” He was evaluating what she said as she said it when she quickly looked over to the shelves “And him stop pestering me.” She mumbled more to herself than Ra’s. At that he let out a light chuckle and having thought over her offer gave her his thoughts.

“I admit, I’m more interested in the pursuit of knowledge than women. We might be able to come to some… mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Sora gave a light smile to Ra’s, and he returned it. They both understood the agreement they both had created.

----

Within the year, as they all had expected, Sora’s father had died.

Despite them knowing that the time was drawing near, it was still hard. Sora would never admit it, but she shed a tear at his funeral, watching the bird fly through the skies as he was laid out in the Tower of Silence for a sky burial, traditional for his Zoroastrianism.

To cope Ra’s delved into his studies and found a project of the late physician. He had seen him look over it many times, but he had never been allowed to read the texts. He would simply watch as the physician would spend hours pouring over the texts, before the physician would finally come over and teach him about traditional medicinal herbs and serums and their effects. Ra’s forever acknowledges that he learned more in his months under the physician's tutelage, than he ever did in the library.

He learned of how diseases spread, and the common ways they would extend across the city in the matter of weeks. How if they started within the markets, they would quickly spread across many of the peasants, and other middle-class folk, but they wouldn’t get much farther, and how if the diseases started amongst the slaves, they would spread much faster due to the unsanitary conditions, and they would often then be picked up by someone of upper class, as they traditionally had slaves, and spread.

He was eternally grateful for the lessons he was given. They helped him serve the city in incredible ways. Ra’s performed near miracles for anyone who needed it. His reputation started to grow, some upper-class citizens would refuse to come, because Ra’s would cater to slaves, but others would request the treatment of Ra’s and would always find themselves healed within the week.

But these texts that he found of the physicians, seemed to have some pages with herbs and brews, but the majority held drawings of people, dressed in unfamiliar clothing, all bright, with texts in a script he couldn't begin to understand. He looked among the pages and found what looked to be a cypher in the physician's handwriting. The physician had part of the unfamiliar script figured out… no not script… it was CODE! The texts were coded!

All he would need to do was complete the cypher and he would discover what the texts were for.

----

Ra’s poured hours into the texts and completing the code, with no such luck.

“It’s no good. These codes your father was working on have me beat. I can’t break it…” He called to his wife, who was currently working in the front of the shop after it closed about an hour ago, she was preparing for the next day, he supposed.

“Perhaps I can help?” She poked her head in from behind the curtain to peer at him being over the table.

“Thank you, Sora. A warm bowl of goat’s milk and nutmeg would be most refreshing.” Ra’s commented back to her, without lifting his eyes from the texts in front of him.

He could practically feel the glare she was giving him. He wasn’t entirely sure it wouldn’t burn him with the intensity he could only feel from it, and he wasn’t even looking at her.

“I mean with the code. I learnt much from my father and knew he was struggling to complete his final great work, just as much as you. You’re not married to a servant girl, Ra’s. Warm the milk yourself, and let me see those figures.” The defiance in her tone was thick and her anger was subtle yet tangible. He didn’t understand it but that defiance, and strong will made him want to love her.

He knew that their relationship was built on the agreement of companionship, and for the safety of Sora after her father’s death, but he would be lying if he said that he didn’t love her. Love the way she would snark him when he would ask her to do things, that he could do himself, love how she would hum as she cooked the dinner that they ate every night, her loved how she would ever so lightly furrow her eyebrow when she was concentrated on work.

Ra’s let out a small smile and turned to meet his wife by the curtain. He bent down to kiss her forehead, “Sora… I believe this is going to be a beautiful marriage.” He gave her a light hug before giving her another kiss on her forehead and mumbling to her just loud enough for her to hear, “I’ll go warm some goat’s milk for the both of us, and you can look over the codes, until I get back, and we can work on them together.” He gave her a light squeeze before unraveling himself from her and going off to warm the goat’s milk, and Sora heading over to the table to study the texts.

----

“More code?” Ra’s asked no one in particular. He and Sora had stumbled upon a trapdoor underneath a floor mat in the medicinal closet while cleaning. Ra’s could tell from the hinges alone that it was used regularly. When they opened the hatch they saw that it led down a small ladder, the ladder led to a room, an underground cave almost, despite it being quite dark he could make out the sound of lightly sloshing water and summarized that there was a pool in this cave.

They both held small candles, and when holding them close to the wall they saw it. It was a wall full of more texts! They were familiar enough with the code to recognize that the code from the texts upstairs matched the one in front of them.

A glint of recognition and understanding was in Sora’s eyes. “My father was working on a map of the Tibetan mountains, using the wisdom of the stars and other maps from the libraries of the Sultan. And figuring out the meaning of the code from texts of the ancients. A code showing…” She stopped speaking, her eyes running over a few things before stopping.

“And code of what?” Ra’s questioned Sora’s sudden quietness and turned to give her his whole focus. Her eyes were completely fixed on one drawing. It was of the silhouette of a man, behind him was a circle of purple. The way it was positioned it seemed to be describing the man emitting the purple. Like he was glowing.

He refocused his attention on his wife’s face as she turned to him, “One which tells the way to achieve something men have long dreamed-” he saw the emotions his wife’s face held. Emotions he had never seen in her face before, it was complete and utter disbelief,

“-a wish to change reality.”

----

They soon were able to decipher enough code to learn that the Tibetan mountains was the location of the Temple of Guardians, the holders of two pieces of magical jewelry that possessed the ability, when combined, to grant a wish that could alter reality.

Sora and Ra’s had both packed enough for a 3-week trip on horseback, to the Tibetan mountains, and back. Ra’s had won the argument over who would be going, Sora wanting it to be herself, but eventually agreeing Ra’s would be better suited for the job, considering he grew up as a nomad, much to Sora’s chagrin.

He had been on trek for a week and was taking a rest on the side of the dirt road to fill his canteen with water from a stream he saw nearby, when he saw a flash of light blue and white out of the corner of his eyes. He immediately drew one of the daggers that he carried at all times and started to look around for what he saw.

He hadn’t fought anyone in a decade, last time being a practice spar with his uncle the night before he left to go live in the city alone, and even then, he was only okay, but he did know some forms of martial arts and weaponry in theory. He read about it in some of the texts from the library, while theory may not have anything on experience, it was better than nothing.

He was beginning to think he had either come down with a fever and been hallucinating, or he had simply been seeing things, when after five minutes of surveying the area, he could see that no one had been there.

He walked up to his undisturbed horse and grabbed the reins. Upon lifting himself on the horse he heard a light *jingle*. He looked down to find a small drawstring bag tied around the tip of his saddle. He was used to seeing little drawstring bags, like this one, around the shop. Sora often used them to hold the herbs they used for medical purposes, but he didn’t know why she would have packed it, or why it jingled when it was shaken.

He slowly picked it up, examining it as if it were going to spontaneously catch fire. He slowly undid the knot and overturned the contents of it in his gloved hand.

Out fell two earrings and a ring…

A ring that was a black as dark as the night sky he saw as a nomad child, with a pawprint, greener than any grass or any tapestry he had seen before…

And a pair of earrings red as the blood he had seen countless times as a physician, and five distinct spots, black as the ring…

Both the ring and the earrings looking exactly like the drawings he had seen of the Black Cat miraculous and the Ladybug miraculous he had seen in the texts.

Ra’s had learned many lessons in his life, but one of the biggest, most important of them all: There are no coincidences in the world.

Ra’s had no doubt in his mind that in his hand, he held the two most powerful objects in the universe, two objects that would grant him a wish.

Slowly, a grin grew on his face. He immediately seized the reins of his horse, and turned him around, heading faster than he ever had back to the city.

His father-in-law's final project was finally completed on its way to being completed.

----

The look on Sora’s face was one he had only seen once before, when they first discovered the small area underneath the shop, complete and utter disbelief.

“This… these jewels… are they really the Black Cat and Ladybug miraculous?” She asked wide-eyed, just looking at what Ra’s had set on the counter after barging into the shop, in a ridiculously loud manner, might she add.

“I do believe it is, they practically feel powerful!”

Sora slowly inched her hand toward where the earrings fell on the counter. The moment she gently brushed her finger against one of the earrings, a bright pink light emitted from it, one that forced both Sora and Ra’s to cover their eyes.

Once the light dimmed, they saw something that was not in the texts.

Both Sora and Ra’s were in a state of shock. It was broken when the thing floated up to her face and began to speak, “Hello my name’s Tikki. I’m the Kwami of Creation!” She said, giving a little twirl in the air.

Ra’s, finally able to speak again, asked, “That does not explain much. What is a ‘Kwami’ and why did you suddenly appear when the earrings were touched by Sora?”

“Ooh. A Kwami is an entity tethered to this plane of reality by the jewelry that is sitting on your counter. I’m the entity of creation. When everything came to be, I came to be with it, not before, not after, some people confuse that.” The ‘Kwami’, as they both learned it was, giggled before continuing with the explanation they both needed, “I’m the thing that gives power to that jewelry, without me, that jewelry is just some antique junk.” She finished her explanation.

It made more sense than just ‘magical jewelry’ to have some entity tethered to it. “If you touch the ring Plagg will come out!” She exclaimed before going over to Ra’s and pulling off his glove and grabbing his hand. She pulled his hand from his side and he willingly allowed the ‘Kwami’ to lift his finger to touch the ring.

A second burst of bright light, green this time, came from the ring. This time Sora and Ra’s expected it so it wasn’t too bad. They only had to blink a couple times before they heard a yawn, “Well that was a good cat nap!” The other ‘Kwami’, who he was guessing his name was ‘Plagg’ from what ‘Tikki’ said, “Do you all have some cheese, I’m starving!”

Sora was the one who pulled herself together enough to answer ‘Plagg’s’ question, “There is some food in the cabinet under the basin. You may find what you are looking for there.” Sora gestured to the curtain and both Kwami got the memo, before floating off where Sora indicated the food would be.

Both Ra’s and Sora locked eyes. Their silent conversation led to them both leaving each other's gaze to eye the ring and earrings. They both agreed that they had no idea what had just happened.

----

“That is not a good idea.”

That was the only thing that was said after Sora and Ra’s took them to see the basement beneath their shop that held the texts and the pool. Both of the Kwami were faced away from the texts as ‘they should not see them’. Ra’s gave them an indignant look at their immediate dismissal of their want for a wish.

“This could help hundreds maybe even thousands of people, how is this not a good idea?”

“You don’t understand, the wish has major repercussions, you can always ask for a way to heal the injured and dead, but that wish will have untold side-effects.” Tikki tried to explain to both Ra’s and Sora. The sincerity in her voice was deep, but they did not hear the sadness that lingered in it as well.

“Will you not allow us to make the wish?” Sora asked, tilting her head to the side, as if analyzing the situation.

“We cannot stop you from making the wish, but we must tell you, it will have repercussions, and the one who makes the wish will feel them deeply.” Sorrow again seeped into Tikki’s voice; this time Ra’s noticed it as well.

“Then I will make the wish, I have memorized the incantation and only one of us can make the wish itself.” He pulled the now silver ring and black earrings from his pocket. He placed the ring on his left middle finger. He prepared to force the earrings through his ears, worst case scenario he could use whatever came of the wish to heal himself, only to be pleasantly surprised when the earrings glided through his ear as if he did have a piercing.

Both the Kwami moved to the outstretched hands Ra’s offered and sat down. Ra’s failed to notice the tears in Tikki’s eyes, and the downcast look on Plagg’s face.

The moment he uttered the last syllable, the rush to Ra’s was undeniable. He felt immense amounts of power seeping into his veins.

“I wish to have the means to heal any injury and return any person from death.”

And everything went quiet. All the power he was feeling only moments ago, felt like it was running off him, like dirt would in a shower.

He looked over to see Sora sitting in the ground shielding her face, much in the same manner she was when they first met the Kwami.

Both the earrings and ring started to burn lightly, so he ripped them off and threw them behind him, before running over to Sora and helping her stand.

Ra’s felt at his ear, where he just ripped the earring out, noticing the earrings didn’t leave so much as a scar.

Looking to check over Sora, he saw out of the corner of his eyes a bright green glow.

Both Ra’s and Sora looked over to see a neon, toxic green color at the bottom center of the pool.

It was mesmerizing how the green stretched from a small center at the bottom of the pool out, almost like tentacles, or tree roots growing out in the dirt.

He continued to watch until the entire pool was filled with the green, when he saw the same white and light blue flash out of the corner of his eyes. He tried to turn quickly and catch it, but the only thing he saw was an empty room.

A room empty of both the Black Cat and Ladybug miraculous.

----

Life went on relatively normal for Ra’s and Sora. They cleaned out the basement and removed the texts, as they were no use to him anymore, and cleaned the area.

When finding a name, they settled on one- Lazarus Pit - from a biblical story that Sora’s father mentioned in one of the texts.

He had said ‘he wanted to be able to do the same as the Christian’s god, and revive the dead. And if the wish truly worked, it would be able to, they had yet to try the pit and test the magic that quite obviously resided within it.

----

As time went on, and the pit remained below their feet, Ra’s continued his work as a physician, continuing working miracles without the use of the pit, which was an actual miracle. His reputation grew both of his physician's duties, and of the great mind he held. He was referred to as “the greatest mind of his age” by some.

Ra’s had heard him referred to as this on occasion, but he didn’t realize just how far word of his miracles went until the Sultan’s guard requested his aid in healing the prince who had fallen ill.

As the guards left his shop, leaving him with the letter asking him officially of his aid he immediately turned to Sora with quite possibly the largest smile he ever had on his face, “If I could cure the prince-- our reputation would be made, I’d have the funding to push my research forward-”

He was cut off by Sora who he only realized was rubbing her temple with her hands at his rant, “The prince is nothing but a cruel young aristo-- I’ve caught him leering at me in the Bazaar!”

“Don’t do this Ra’s. We can do without the Sultan’s money!” Sora pleaded to him. She held a look of concern on her face that Ra’s completely ignored, rather thinking about what he could possibly do with the benefits of healing a prince.

“You’re wrong! When I walked through the desert, I nurtured a dream. This is my way to fulfill it!”

Ra’s turned away from Sora, and headed down below the shop, to the Pit.

----

Everything went wrong. And Ra’s had no idea how.

Everything was going fine.

The royal guards had brought the sick prince to his shop as requested by Ra’s. The moment he saw the prince Ra’s knew that he was on his deathbed… he knew the only way to help him was using the Lazarus Pit.

He had the guards bring him down the ladder and he followed them, with Sora by his side.

They dipped the prince in the Pit. They let him wade. It was only seconds, maybe a minute, at most, before the prince burst out from under the water. Certainly not sickly like he was, to the point of not being able to walk, not like he was when he arrived.

For the briefest moment Ra’s lived in this fantasy where the Pit healed the Prince, and Ra’s got the reputation he wanted, the funding he needed, and got to continue the research that he always wanted to. He lived in this fantasy where he and Sora worked side-by-side, studied medicine, and became great physicians known for their miracles.

This fantasy ended when the prince left at Sora his eyes, we're not the same as they were when he went in; they were yellow and feral. There was a snap before the guards were able to subdue him. They only realized that the snap was from Sora’s neck. And Sora laid on the ground with scratch marks on her face, her head bent at an unnatural angle, and a small drop of blood dripping down her cheek, from her mouth.

Ra’s fell beside her body, unmoving, he saw out of the corner of his eyes, the prince stopped struggling in the guards' arms and seemed to gain some form of coherency of the situation, but he could not look away from her. He didn’t even breathe until the guards grabbed him as well and put a bag over his head.

Everything went wrong.

----

They said he killed her. The Sultan was told by the prince’s guards that his son had killed the wife of the physician that treated him for his illness.

That he had snapped her neck. In return the guards were killed. They could not have the truth be spread. It could cause uprising if such rumors were told to others. So, the moment he was told the story, directly from the prince’s guards who had been there, and he got assurance that they had taken the husband -the physician- and put him in the dungeons, and after that assurance was placed, he had his personal guards slit their throats.

It wasn’t hard to say it was the husband who did it. Without the guards to tell what happened, and the physician in such a state of shock he wouldn’t even talk, no one questioned what the Sultan said.

How did this happen again?

Why did the prince look like that?

He looked feral?

His eyes were near yellow?

Why would he attack her?

Why would he kill her?

Why did he seem to be fine after a minute or being restrained?

Why?

They were the only questions Ra’s was asking himself of late.

He was completely unreactive on the outside but was perfectly aware of what was happening. He was perfectly aware of how the Sultan was placing the blame on him. How the Sultan was saying he killed Sora. He killed his wife.

And yet he knew that regardless of the fact he was innocent, he would still be blamed and persecuted for her death. So, he sat still and continued to ask those questions in his head.

How did this happen again?

Why did the prince look like that?

He looked feral?

His eyes were near yellow?

Why would he attack her?

Why would he kill her?

Why did he seem to be fine after a minute or being restrained?

Why?

He knew he was being gagged, tied up, and dragged from his cell from the dungeons beneath the castle. He knew that this is when they would punish him. It would be death.

How he would die?

He did not know.

Likely a public flogging, beating, or torture of some kind before then bend him over a rock and to take his head off.

And to be honest, Ra’s couldn’t feel anything, he was completely numb as his knees, calves, and feet were dragged over the dirt, and cobble leaving long scars. He knew they were supposed to sting, and burn, and just hurt, but he couldn’t feel a thing. He knew that was a bad sign, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He didn’t start to see anything until he saw it. There was a cage in the center of the courtyard, black iron, probably burning hot with the sun as it is, but that is not what caught his eye. It was the body of Sora that laid in it.

He started to feel the burn of the metal as they forced him in the same small cage as Sora. He was forced to curl in on himself as her body lay not 6 inches from him. Sat up against the side of the cage, with rope tied around her neck and waist, keeping her sitting upright, and facing the rest of the unbearably small cage. Her eyes still opened in the same shock they were in when he first was beside her body.

He felt as the cage was lifted up, the burn of the hot metal only worsening, as they carried the cage out to the city walls, to leave him in the desert to die.

----

His eyes never stayed off Sora’s for long. He remembered what her eyes looked like…

… these are not her eyes.

Sora’s eyes held none of what it used to. Her eyes held confidence, charm, they held stubbornness and defiance. All the things that made Sora the woman she was. All the things that were devoid in those eyes.

Those eyes were open and held only one thing: fear. And that was unlike Sora at all. Sora was never afraid.

But maybe she was of death. Maybe her eyes held fear because she realized what was going to happen…

...because she realized she was going to die.

----

Ra’s didn’t know how long he sat in that cage outside the city walls, staring into the unfamiliar eyes.

All he knew was that the trance was broken by the sound of creaking metal. The hinges. And the feeling of hands going under his arms and pulling him up. He had the strength to turn his head and be met with a face that was faintly familiar.

“Who are you?” He weakly rasped out. “Sabih, I’m a slave for the al-Hafiz family. You saved my mother from dysentery four months ago… I figured I owed you the same.”

And that’s all they said. That’s all they said when he walked back towards the al-Hafiz property. That’s all they said after Sabih settled him in the stables and fed him some water and leftover scraps. That’s all they said as Sabih handed Ra’s a small bag with some water, and food in it. That’s all they said before Ra’s returned to the outside of the city walls, and left on a search for the nomadic tribe he was born and raised in.

He didn’t know what to do, but he was going to figure it out, but not do it in that city.

----

It took him a few weeks, and some manual labor in return for supplies, before he found his uncle’s nomads and took control. It was relatively easy.

By the time he had found the nomads he had been able to sort through his mind. Find his priorities.

And right now, he wanted one thing: he wanted the great city to burn.

He wanted them all dead, he just had to be smart about it. He was thankful, now more than ever for the lessons Sora’s father gave.

It would be easy, he would start by giving a disease to the slaves, if the disease would spread quick enough, it could be passed down the classes and severely weaken the city. Especially if the slaves were hit first, considering that the city was built with them as their foundation.

----

The city was ravaged. Those who didn’t die of disease were killed by Ra’s and his men. When the priests of the Zoroastrian Delegation asked if they spared them and their Holy Towers of Silence. Ra’s turned to the man who was the messenger of the request and bared his teeth.

“Kill the priests. Burn their sacred buildings!”

Ra’s stood in before the destruction he caused. He returned to the city a very different man from when he first arrived there.

A man with a different dream…

Ra’s walked back to the old shop. One that he spent much time in. Leading the others down to the opening below the shop to allow them to see the Lazarus Pit.

“Uncle, you are still the leader of our tribe, but the tribe I am describing will stretch farther than the sands of Arabi. Stretch into every land… past the wall of every city.” Ra’s spoke keeping his voice low and authoritarian. His uncle let off a chuckle.

“Oh, nephew. Just like your father. You were always the dreamer. What you speak of it too… fantastical.” His words made Ra’s a bit angry, but a bit smug at the same time. His uncle had no idea what the Pit in front of his very eyes was capable of.

“*tch* My father never had half my vision, Uncle, nor half my talent.”

His uncle just sputtered in response, “But… it would take several lifetimes for one man to accomplish what you speak of!”

Ra’s just smirked at his words, “Yes, uncle. Yes indeed. And it will be quite some journey.”

“I don’t understand.”

Ra’s focused on the pit, reminded of Tikki’s words…

“You don’t understand, the wish has major repercussions, you can always ask for a way to heal the injured and dead, but that wish will have untold side-effects.”

“We cannot stop you from making the wish, but we must tell you, it will have repercussions, and the one who makes the wish will feel them deeply.”

He truly did. The creation of this wish helped him achieve one of his life’s greatest desires, one of his greatest loves, and in return he lost the love of his life, Sora.

And if you are to use the Lazarus Pit to heal physical injuries, you will suffer from temporary loss of sanity.

Truly a balance.

“You will learn in time. Time is something we have a great deal of. The destruction of this city… has unleashed a demon.

And I… Ra’s al Ghul… I am truly the Demon’s Head!”

----------

Heavily based off of Batman Annual Vol. 1 26

‘al Ghul’ translates to Demon’s Head in Arabic. Notice how that ‘al Ghul’ is only used during the quote at the beginning of the story(yes I did use a quote from the Nolan movies. It fit really well), and at the end when he loses it.

This is the closest I could possibly get to DC canon on Ra’s al Ghul’s origin. In the original Ra’s does not create the pits he simply finds them, with the help of maps left behind by the physician. I wrote this because I really wanted a Miraculous created Lazarus pit, but one that also had Sora in it. I really like her for the scene with the goat’s milk (that is comic accurate, you can check) and what happened to her was NOT deserved. I also wanted to show the human side of Ra’s, and how rage drove him to be such an evil person.

Also a headcanon of mine is that any miraculous jewelry that is some sort of piercing, does not actually require a piercing to wear, it will just go through the skin as if there was a piercing.

The ‘light blue flash’ that Ra’s thinks he hallucinated was a holder of the Rabbit miraculous leaving both the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous to him. This is done because the Lazarus pits are necessary to a stable timeline, not because whatever holder of the Rabbit miraculous is active, thought it was a good idea. They were practically forced.

Ra’s and Sora were closer to each other than anyone else, she was referred to as the love of his life, and they really had a deep bond and when Sora was killed he was broken. In the comic I based this off of, Talia even says, “[...]the death of Sora broke your grandfather’s heart… and forever darkened his soul.” when speaking to Damian.

#maribat #ra's al ghul #sora al ghul #lazarus pit #ml tikki #ml plagg #miraculous fandom #prequel #the blindness of marinette

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