#am i going and screaming this into Muslims ears??

[hindulivesmatter]

Saying hindu lives matter is literally saying white lives matter during a black lives matter march you are making a fool out of yourself.

ok bro

[edenfenixblogs]

I feel like what is disturbing about (some) people discussing the Israel/Palestine conflict is that they insist that most major news sources actually can’t be trusted because the news sources are secretly lying all the time. And I feel like that is what conspiracy theories are, the insistence that everyone is lying to you, and that you should only trust these people. I feel like I was falling into it too, I was starting to believe it.

I’d always told myself before that I would never fail for conspiracy theories because I am a reasonable person, but clearly this isn’t true. I can fall for conspiracy theories if I am not always careful, and complacency is dangerous.

I feel like this same idea applies to antisemitism. People think, “I can’t be antisemitic because I want equality for all people”, but we can if we’re not careful. Complacency is dangerous.

Oh, @jellymarbles! This is very insightful!!!! Look, every major news source has flaws and bias. That is and will always be true. Because it is written by people. And all people have bias. And that's ok! The problems only arise if people allow their writing to consistently and only favor bias in one direction and leave no room for uncomfortable but necessary information from other viewpoints.

If anyone is telling you not to trust "the media" or "the mainstream media," then they are not only untrustworthy on any issue, but are likely especially dangerous on any issue where antisemitism is likely to occur. This is because it is usually rooted (whether the person is knowingly being antisemitic or not) in the conspiracy theory that Jewish people control "the media."

Anyone behaving responsibly would not urge you to shun mainstream sources. Rather, people behaving responsibly will urge you to develop the very necessary skill of media literacy, which will enable you to better discern which sources are trustworthy in a variety of situations. Whenever evaluating any source, but especially when dealing in issues that involve strong and volatile opinions and contested information from a variety of voices, it is vital to critically evaluate your sources using trusted media evaluation tools, like Media Bias/Fact Check. Fact check the story details too, if possible.

You are a private citizen. You are not a journalist. You are not an international diplomat. You are not a crisis negotiator. There is no reason for you to feel pressured to respond to everything quickly. Nobody will benefit from you responding to things you don't have appropriate information on. It is not your job to respond to all information as you encounter it.

There is no prize for speaking up first or most or loudest.

Rather, you will always be the most trusted human source if you take the time to know what you're speaking about fully before you speak. If you feel an urgent need to say something because you directly wish to help someone you know, sharing unverified and possibly false information is never the way to go. Rather, instead of trying to prove your commitment to a cause with self-righteous anger, reach out to the person you wish to help directly. Tell them you know that they are going through a rough time. You may not always know what to say or what you need to share, but say that you are committed to always sharing verifiable and the information, but that you also don't need the affected person to act as a news source for you. And in the meantime, you don't need news stories to be there for a friend. Lending an ear and some comfort to someone directly will mean more than shouting into the void. Personally, I'm always a little uncomfortable when I see non-Jewish and non-Muslim/Arab/Palestinian people I know screaming onto the internet about issues related to i/p when they have never actually taken the time to talk to a single Jewish person about how they actually feel about any of it (or when they only talk to Jewish people to determine whether they are Evil Zionists or Actual Humans).

Many people are willing to make sweeping statements about how all Jews feel about Israel or zionism or Netanyahu, but aren't willing to actually have a conversation about any of those things to find out if their assumptions are correct--let alone to see if the Jewish person in question has insights into issues they haven't thought of before. (Hint: as an oft-ignored micro-minority, Jews do often have insights that are not adequately understood by those who have refused to interact with us)

I can only imagine that Palestinian people as well as Muslims and Arabs in general experience similar bigotry when people make assumptions about their views of Jews, the politico-religious ideology of Islamism (which I'm acutely aware is different than the religion of Islam), the i/p conflict, Hamas, and a variety of other issues.

Because make no mistake, choosing to ignore your responsibility of media literacy during a time of stochastic terror for multiple groups is to support that terror. Choosing to ignore media you disagree with because you disagree with it and not because the source is wrong or untrustworthy is the same as making a conscious choice to be stubbornly set in your ways at the expense of people desperately trying to make themselves heard.

In other words, choosing to maintain media illiteracy is choosing bigotry.

That said, you'll make mistakes sometimes. It's inevitable, and that's ok. Just today I deleted a post I reblogged about the extremely good and worthwhile charity organizatin Anera that is providing much needed aid to Gaza at the moment. Is that because I stopped supporting the organization? Is that because I hate Palestine and its suffering citizens? OF COURSE NOT! Rather, the person I shared it from had a blog full of hateful antisemitic content and misinformation. I couldn't direct my followers to a resource like that, because I can and must share information from sources worth listening to. If a bigot is your only way of sharing information about something, then that information is useless. If the information is actually useful, you'll be able to share it from a source who isn't dangerous.

There are many trustworthy people who regularly share information about Anera as well as other organizations that are providing aid to those suffering in the region, by the way.

It i so easy to think that a post is innocuous enough to share without fact checking. But bigotry can sneak in to a lot of places. I didn't know about the person I reblogged from until a follower pointed it out to me. Someone trustworthy will act swiftly to amend the information and thank you for the information rather than acting offended that you dared to question them. And a trustworthy source certainly won't continue to behave irresponsibly or allow others to behave irresponsibly on their behalf without putting in any effort to do better in the future.

You will make mistakes. It's OK. Don't let the fear of making a mistake stop you from taking action to help. Just be sure not to let your desire to help turn into causing actual harm. As long as you try your best and keep an open heart, all reasonable people will understand if you stumble now and again.

<3

As always, feel free to explore my #Media Literacy tag for more info and discourse on the subject.

[lovelyysiriuss]

chromatic | two

*gif not mine

AUTHOR’S NOTE: ramadan mubarak to any of my muslim readers that are celebrating! i definitely know i am, alhamdulillah! i hope everyone has a blessed ramadan this year, staying happy and healthy! ameen :)

PAIRING: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader / Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 626

INSPO: a series on TikTok by @serenaivory of the same name.

CHROMATIC MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | ASKS! REQUESTS! TAGS! | SUBMIT ANYTHING! | WATTPAD VERSION

prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Betrothed to the wrong individual.

Pain is all he felt. Eternity—feeling as though this pain was everlasting.

He should not feel for a person who he had recently met. Though, ‘recently’ was many months ago. He cannot think. Thoughts of her, her, her. Her beauty, grace, and gentle eyes.

The wondrous colors made up for it. The colors she brought in. The world looked clearer, with newfound blues, greens, pinks, purples. The city that never sleeps was booming further, day by day, exciting the 106-year-old. Never noticing the true beauty of the world, he is in a state of pure awe. But her beauty could nevermore emulate.

The world could not stop for her. Bucky is knowledgeable of such. The man has to continue his daily presence of defending individuals from the evils of the universe. Complex when she needs the saving.

“Sam, where are they?” Steve calls out.

The situation is tense. Common knowledge around the world that Captain America has a new misses, enemies have the will to destroy the patriotic figure with the newfound information revealed to them.

Sam’s voice reverberated in the trio’s earpieces, “They left on one of the trucks.”

“I see one.” Steve nodded.

“I see a truck as well.” Bucky agreed.

Sam scanned the area with his high-tech vision, “Got ‘em. They got her on the red one.”

Puzzled, the blond held the earpiece closer to his ear, unfamiliar with colors while living in his grayscale world, “On which one?”

“The red one,” Sam repeats.

Ashamed, Steve replies, “I can’t see the colors…”

“I got her.” Bucky declares confidently.

��Steve, I just sent you the coordinates.”

“I’m on my way, baby.”

Bucky is overthrown by the endearing pet name. Everything that he could desire for his completion, his best friend attains. His soul was stolen, plunged out of his chest, and splayed across him. It was diabolical, heart-wrenching, mortifying.

But this was not about Steve, this was about her. His other half.

He ran with his heart on his sleeve. Staggered breaths, heart pumping, powerful adrenaline—running as if his life depended on it. As if she was his life. He exists if she does.

He threw apart the doors to the truck, screaming for her name. Her face lit up, exclaiming, “Bucky!” Relief coursing her body. Her expression restless, a gaze of finally. Viewing him feels as if being reborn, a perpetual reminder of loveliness, with a touch of regret.

He sighs, “It’s okay, doll. I got you.”

Worry flashes her soft features. Within that millisecond, James Buchanan Barnes wants nothing more than her safety. He would be willing to sacrifice himself for her. Only her. Nothing but her. Just her. “You have to go, I’m not alone!”

Before he could get a word in, he is flung out of the truck. She cries for his name. “Run!” Bucky replies. To which she does. Leaping from one truck to the other, halted by one of the bandits attempting to grab her arm. “Don’t you dare touch her!” Once more, the brunet is tossed against another truck.

She pants, “Bucky! I’m coming!” The girl is reaching for him, their fingertips meet.

So close, yet so far. Akin to Romeo and Juliet, Layla and Majnun, Farhad and Shirin, or Krishna and Radha. A tragedy with the inclusion of lost love; rather unblossomed love. She grasps his arm, being pulled downwards by him, and into each other in a grass field.

He ventures to catch his raging breath while soothing his erratic heartbeat. They are tangled within one another. Limbs carefree, as though the position was natural. Almost made for each other.

“Are you okay?” He questions above her figure. His gaze wandering her supple lips, appearing as though they were begging to be acquainted.

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[we-dragons]

I'm from a different dimension actually Chapter 7 Damian x reader

"Ira! I need my emergency kit!" Molly is pulling at my hair with a brush, I grimace at my reflection, she had put pearls and violet gems in my hair. Seeing as it already wasn't long bearly pushing past my ears, even though there aren't many of them in there it ways down in some places. I had already allowed her to put me in a ball gown, which I'm sure costs much more than my apartment building. It reminds me of peacock feathers, purples, greens, blues fill the cloth they blend seamlessly dark purple at the top and ending with blue at the bottom. I look at the matching marbled shoes and guilt climbs through me.

"Molly I don't need makeup, I'm already in a peacock dress, and there are gems in my hair. Besides the mascara is enough I don't want to spend an hour rubbing anything else off." Molly gasps, a hand gripping at her heart.

"Why-how could you say such a thing!" Ira hands Molly her phone, she screams. "We're going to be late! Ira put the bag back!" I'm yanked from my chair and raced down the hall within minutes I'm thrown into a limo with Molly's parents. Molly jumps in starting to yell at the driver shocking her parents who kept telling her to calm down. It doesn't take long to get to Wayne Manor, the courtyard is crowded filled with flashing lights from cameras reporters, and newscasts. They surrounded every inch with an exception of a semi-circle right at the front of the building where the car pulled up. Once more I'm pulled roughly out of the vehicle by molly, I nearly trip going up the stairs.

"Molly dear, we need to go in together!" My friend's mother pants from behind her husband seems to be in a similar position as me. Like mother like daughter.

I pull my arm away from Molly gently and smooth out my peacock dress, I sigh internally finding relief that I had personally told Molly to make the dress so it covered without it being tight. If I didn't then I would be pulling up the fabric like Molly who went not so modest. Not only had she blinged out she full-on black and high heels that pushed out her height. She looked good, and she made her parents match. When her mother finally catches up she puts a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

What happens after the incident leaves me at a table sitting behind a card with my name on it. Molly was seated somewhere else because I had used my own invitation instead of being a plus one. My eyes cast over the room soaking in again the decor of the newly decorated main floor. My energy seems to drain while I watch the people chat dance and laugh. No one was seated at my table and I was slightly relieved but I still felt odd. I had gone to parties with my mom in the past, ones that were held in her honor about her findings. I feel myself relishing in those memories I had looking back at the times she would pull a silly face at me while I was bored at said parties, or told a joke in some of her speeches. My mother was the expert in The Islamic Golden Era, despite not being a Muslim herself. She prided herself on giving credit to those who deserved more but had their work stolen by Europeans. But then, when she went on that Egypt and Greece dig she had found something that unnerved her. I knew what it was, and I wish I hadn't either. My happy thoughts turn sour, and I can feel myself grimace. I am tired...so tired.

"You made it, It's good to see you here." my head whips around falling on emerald eyes.

"Yeah, I had already told Molly that she could take me to the next party she goes to. However, I didn't know that if you came with an invite and not a plus one that you had to sit at a separate table." He snorts and sits down to my right.

"You were originally sat by her but father assumed I needed a friend," He shows me a card with his name on it. "so he changed Grayson out for you."

"Do you not have friends?"

"None close by."

"When have I accepted you as a friend?" He smiles

"That is a good question, but the same goes for me, you more someone I tolerate."

"Same here, Besides your a bad influence."

"tsk,...touche." his gaze looks me up and down and I have the sudden urge to say 'eyes up here'.

"You look tired, would you like to go to the library?"

"Usually libraries and tired people don't mix."

"How about a tour then, we have several artifacts my father has purchased that you might find interesting." He pushes harder.

"You want an excuse to leave, don't you? I thought my main purpose for being here was to talk to Mr.Wayne, not venture into the mansion." He sighs with his own body, visibly exaggerating the movements.

"My father is deeply preoccupied already in another engagement, he won't even be here for hours. Would you prefer to stay here doing nothing or would you like to leave?" He sounds rather annoyed while looking off to his left and scowling more. I follow my eyes to a group of three who I recognize from the cafe, all of them are pointing and smirking. I being to feel more drained at the thought of them coming here and stand. "Your home, where to first?" He shoots up, grabbing my hand dragging me through the dense crowd of people.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Amazing, this would date back to the early years of feudal Japan, this is Greek! Oh! There's a Khopesh and a Canaan Sickel sword on this wall!"

Damian scoffs sounding more like a laugh than a mocking tone. "You can tell the difference." I give him a look, feeling offended.

"Of course I can, you mostly can tell by the markings on the blade." I turn my head back to the wall slowly pointing to the distinguishable pieces of evidence. "This one is older Hebrew, and here you can see small hieroglyphics depicting the sun. Plus the metals on each blade are very different." I tilt my head back to him, his face stays indifferent. "You knew that already didn't you?" He nods and walks again.

"You must really like history, seems like you could talk about it none stop." He calls back.

"Did you forget who my mother was?"

"I thought she specialized in the Islamic golden era."

"It didn't mean she didn't know the history of other peoples. My mother developed research of anything she could get her hands on." I pause for a minute. "What about you, where did you learn."

"I was taught by some of the best in the world, my mother made sure of it."

"I see." We talk more while examining the objects displayed, I had fun just listening to him explain how his father got some of them. Though the collection wasn't huge it still made me a bit happy to see the objects. My phone buzzes, and I quickly take it out of my pocket.

Molly: Hey where are you we need to get going!

Molly: Dad got too drunk and now he's crying about the world.

Molly: We will be outside, Be there.

"Sorry, I have to get going, I'll see you at school later!" I run through the hall and snag as many macarons as I can on the way out. Molly waves from the car opening the door so I slide in faster.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Sorcerer found. Name: Doctor Fate, Subject: host"

"Anyone else?"

"Database shows,... John Constantine, and Zatanna. All other information is unavailable."

"Gather what they have on the crows send probes if you must."

"Proceeding."

Nightmare stands by the window waiting for his queue. I pull a scale out from the box and open the window. I hand him the scale and he chews effectively destroying the small miracle. "Remember stay out of sight if someone spots you wipe it from their memory and if you see a crow take the fight to the in-between and go for the kill. You have a little bit of my power with you only use it when needed." He purrs, rubbing his head on my hand, then jumps. He vanishes. I sigh putting the device in the box marked with an X just in case and push it under my bed. I head out into my living room putting some things away and cleaning here and there. Proud of my work I turn on the TV and sprawl on my sofa with a bowl of popcorn. Reruns of Highlander play on one of my favorite channels, I smile at my luck and sing to the theme song.

*Thunk thunk thunk*

I jump at the sound, I hear the noise again and follow it to my kitchen bat in hand. I flip on the light and smack my face, a very wet robin scowls at me through the glass. Only then did I notice the rain, and I pray that Nightmare is staying safe. I open the door and let him in, he mutters a thank you while walking in dipping water on my floor.

"Not to be rude, but is there something you need?" He ignores me and continues dragging water on the floor to the living room.

"Robin?" I catch up to him, he pulls something out from his ear and stuffs it in his pocket.

"I would like to stay here for a little while"

"How long is a little while, will I need to pull out the bed in the couch?" He gives me a look.

"There's a bed in your couch?"

"Sometimes I want to watch TV while I do my homework, laying down here makes it easier." I go to the bathroom to pull out some towels.

"Where was this when I was heavily injured?"

"I'm sorry, but the fact that you were bleeding was more concerning. I also put new sheets on the bed and you broke a perfectly good window. There is still blood on my cushions, and you wanted me to place you on the bed?" grabbing the biggest fluffiest towel in the bunch walking back out to the living room.

"You still on about that?"

"It was expensive!" I hold out the towel, he takes it and places his yellow cape in my hand. I frown but head to the coat rack hanging the heavy fabric on the highest rung. I feel short noticing its length, I turn back to Robin who's sat down on the couch the large towel engulfing him completely minus his hair. The black strands stuck oddly to his face and drooped sadly, I almost laugh because he looks like a sad cat. Like Nightmare whenever I give him a bath, I think I have a picture of that somewhere. "Did you want something to drink or eat?"

"Why is it that every time I come here you offer something?"

"It's a hospitality thing I got living in Minnesota, it's just being nice. Besides, you work to protect people, don't you? It only makes sense that I offer you something, I doubt you get paid to do your job. I bet you have countless scars from just doing so, I can do my part and help you feel comfortable. Call it a form of respect."

"Tsk."

I stroll into the kitchen, "Well, I suppose I could give some soda, tea, or water after all you left plenty on the floor."

"What happened to respect?"

"Well, I have feelings to sir! Tossing my words aside like that, I shouldn't even feed you." I poke my head back out, I smile at his scowl while he in turn glares at me. "Now for once, I am out of tea but I have several cans of cherry coke and some popcorn and macarons from a party I went to earlier. How about that?"

"That's fine." I hum grabbing what I needed and plopped back down in my seat handing him the coke. I place the brightly colored macarons and some chips I found between us along with the popcorn. I let myself get absorbed into the Highlander again just as MacLeod beheads another immortal and gains his Quickening.

"What is this?" My Jaw drops while I look at him concerned.

"Just how uncultured are you." His face flushes and his face twists he opens his mouth but i stop him. "Say no more, I will be right back." I come out with my computer and pull up VUDU opening season one of the show. "Sit back buckaroo, now your in for the long haul. Now right now all you need to know is 'There can only be one." His face contorts in confusion, but gives in and moves closer.

"I'm not going to get in trouble with Batman am I." He smirks.

"Most likely."

"Dammit."

[kyutown]

hi sunshine! after the first ships you made for me I was wondering if I could get one for txt and seventeen please? 💗🧚🏻‍♀️✨🌌🔮

my love language is quality time, words of reassurance.

i'm enfp, scorpio, hufflepuff, i'm french muslim pansexual nonbinary she/they. i have long curly light brown hair, almond shaped hazel eyes and a few moles on my face. i'm 5'4. i have a wide smile with dimples. i'm chubby and will start a diet for myself and only myself.

i'm open minded, would defend anyone i think is being right but judged. i'm a people pleaser. i'm an affectionate person. i show my love to my friends by making fun of them (i never cross the line though) or of myself, i am funny and creative. if I can make someone laugh i get really happy. i can be blunt. i am clumsy (trip on air and hit myself against furniture constantly also almost drop anything i hold). i'm sarcastic and humourous. i often quote vine or audios on tiktok i find funny. i am basically a walking meme i guess. i have a funny laugh and laugh a lot, i am a happy person. i can be loud one moment and suddenly really calm. i am ambivert. i am always listening to music with earphones, dancing and making choreographies. i'm stubborn but patient. i'm sensitive and prefer to talk things out, i'm pretty calm but can get scary when annoyed or really angry.

i am a dancer. i have two cats and i talk to them a lot as if them could understand me, either it speaking with words or meows. i like learning languages, i can speak french, english fluently, italian and spanish moderately (want to be fluent in italian) and i'm starting to learning korean seriously.

i dress in multiple aesthetic and don't limit myself to a couple, i own 'quirky' earrings (tank golden fish, cherries, bubble tea and shiba dog ones). i like makeup especially eyeliner, lipgloss and mascara. i believe that family doesn't necessarily mean blood for personal reasons and from experience.

my favourite soloist is jessi as well as hyuna. they are my role models in a way.

i am the kind of person who likes to do multiple things though i often stop something and never or later finish it. i'm overly confident yet extremely self-conscious. i often need reassurance because of trauma i have and trust issues in my family with transphobia and homophobia, and just what i do in general. i had my mother tell me i am manipulative that my friend and family actually didn't like me and it sometimes gets to my mind again even though i know they love me.

i've been a huge fan of harry potter since i was two year old with the videogames on ps1 my grandmother owned. i like marvel, the maze runner, parasite the hobbit alice in wonderland and peter pan. my favourite series are alice in borderland, the umbrella academy.

i get scared easily but laugh and scream when i get scared. i speak with my hands a lot and I'm really expressive (i make funny face, purse my lips a lot or frown). i use the finger guns too much and the word period too haha. i zone out a lot and talk to myself constantly. i would like to become an english teacher and still dance in the future.

the perfect date would be either chilling in my apartment or his, going out to the amusement park or a picnic. i get shy when i first meet someone but warm up to them fast. i get shy with people who are interested in me romantically even if i knew them for a while.

thanks and take your time have a wonderful day/night! love you! 💗💗💗

hi! thank you for responding!

for txt, i think you would match well with huening kai! huening kai would be the type to go to amusement parks with you and go on picnic dates! he would even just stay home and chill with you! huening kai is the type to do whatever you want and would mostly agree with you! he would also be the one who would comfort you and would be there for you when you face hardships and have a hard time in your life!

for seventeen, i think dino would be a great fit with you! dino is really good at dancing and also really enjoys to dance! i think since you also like to dance. i think you guys would always be dancing! from a cute dance while waiting for your guys’ food to a slow dance at night to a serious dance that you guys made together! you guys would always have fun while dancing!

[lifeofresulullah]

The Life of The Prophet Muhammad(pbuh): First Migration, the Year of Sorrow, the Splitting of the Moon

Boycott Against Muslims

It was 617 AD, the seventh year of the prophethood.

Until this date, all of the polytheists’ attempts to thwart Islam’s development had failed. Moreover, Islam was developing at a quicker pace. The number of Muslims was increasing daily despite the presence of all kinds of violence and resistance. In fact, the light of Islam was beginning to embrace the tribes outside of Mecca.

Heroes like Hazrat Umar and Hazrat Hamza had joined the ranks of the Muslims. Hazrat Umar completely changed from his prior state by striving in the way of Islam with all of his strength and rigor and as a result became Islam’s right hand man. While this situation provided courage and morale for the Muslims, it greatly rocked the polytheists and caused them to think deeply.

On the other hand, Qurayshi polytheists could not retrieve the Muslims that took refuge in the land of the Negus. Ashama, the King of Abyssinia, did not only refuse to give them back but he also promised that he would protect them.  

This forced and compelled the polytheists to make new plans and decisions.

The polytheists understood that torture and violence would not cause anyone to abandon his/her religion and they could not hinder Islam’s spreading and development. How was it that not one Muslim denounced his/her religion despite all the torture and cruelty they faced!

In that case, they had to implement different policies and that was what they did. They came together immediately. After thinking deeply and consulting with one another for a while, they decided to cut off all of their ties with the Sons of Hashim regardless of whether or not they were Muslims.

They wrote down the conditions of this decision that they had all agreed on together as follows:

1)   They would not wed any women from the Sons of Hashim and Muttalib.

2)   They would not give any women to the Sons of Hashim and Muttalib to wed.

3)  They would not sell anything to the Sons of Hashim and Muttalib.

4)   They would not purchase anything from the Sons of Hashim and Muttalib. 

They thought that hanging this agreement, which was written on a sheet of paper, on one of the Kaaba’s walls would attach a tenor of holiness. Furthermore, they swore they would not act against this agreement. 

This boycott was aimed at eliminating the Sons of Hashim and Muttalib and excavating their roots. In this situation, the families of the Sons of Hashim and Muttalib could no longer live in separate cities or scattered from one another. With the exception of Abu Lahab, the Sons of Hashim and Muttalib all moved to Shib (District) Abu Talib, which was located in the northern part of Mecca. 

The polytheists cut off all of their ties with the residents of this neighborhood. Those who went there by accident were badly scolded.

The polytheists did not allow any food or drink to enter this area. They only allowed the Muslims to leave during the time of Hajj (the pilgrimage) to go shopping, but this was only a façade. It was a façade since they would follow them and attempt to hinder them in all kinds of ways from purchasing anything. In fact, they would occasionally threaten the merchants to prevent them from selling anything to the Muslims. Sometimes, they would apply all sorts of schemes and tricks to seize the merchants’ goods so that nothing would be left for the victims of this cruel boycott to purchase.

Despite the fact that Abu Lahab was from among the Sons of Hashim, he openly wanted his own siblings, kinsfolk, and relatives to die from starvation and did everything he could in this matter. On the outskirts of the city, he would greet the caravans carrying food to Mecca by saying, “Oh merchants! Do not sell anything to the Sons of Hashim! Make your prices high so that they cannot purchase anything from you. You know that I am wealthy. Whenever I make a promise, I will always be sure to fulfill it. Raise the prices of your edible and wearable goods. I will purchase remaining goods!” He caused the Muslims to go home empty-handed to their children who screamed out of hunger.  The polytheists’ ears and hearts were plugged in the face of the heartbreaking and sorrowful screams of the hungry children.  

They derived unparalleled pleasure from hearing these screams that had the potential to shatter stones. This is a lesson-filled example as to how disbelief, denial, and blasphemy can make people merciless and cruel even against their fellow humans.

Those who were subjected to this boycott were left to face a harsh scarcity and endure starvation since they were not able to purchase anything. This situation was so extreme that some began to eat leaves when they were unable to find anything else as well as any dry leather pieces they could find to roast over an open fire.

However, there were still some who felt compassion for the Muslims. One day, the son of Hazrat Khadija’s brother, Hakim bin Hizam, tried to save his aunt, Hazrat Khadija from despair by sending a camel load of flour.

On another occasion, he loaded wheat on the back of his slave to take to his aunt. He set off on the road with his slave and coincidentally bumped into Abu Jahl on the way.

Abu Jahl said to him, “You are taking groceries to the Sons of Hashim, is that right? By God, you cannot go. If you attempt to go then I will disclose this action of yours to all of Meccans and humiliate you.”

At that moment, Abu’l Bahtari came and chided Abu Jahl, “What’s happening to you? It is not right to hinder a person from taking some flour to his aunt.”

However, Abu Jahil did not forgo his stubbornness and persistence. Upon this, he engaged in a physical fight with Abu’l Bahtari. Abu’l Bahtari wounded his head with the bone of a camel’s chin and then later pounced on Abu Jahil while punching him.

Hisham bin Amr bin Harith was someone else who did not withhold his help from the Sons of Hashim and the Muslims out of his feelings of kinship. He had taken food with his camels to Shib a few times without the polytheists knowing.

They Spend their Wealth

Followed by Abu Talib and Hazrat Khadijah, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) was the first to spend his belongings to fulfill the needs of those who were subjected to this boycott. Nonetheless, they still could not save them from starvation.

A frightening state of hunger reigned in Shib.

Why was this all being done?

For only one thing: to make our Holy Prophet (PBUH) surrender.

The polytheists thought they could reach their goal in this way; however, the situation turned out to be different from what they had expected and hoped. The Muslims and the Sons of Hashim were immensely careful in guarding our Holy Prophet (PBUH) against any possible dangers. In fact, Abu Talib took our Holy Prophet (PBUH) by his side at nighttime or had others guard him by virtue of the possibility that our Holy Prophet (PBUH) could be assassinated.

This boycott that began in 617, the seventh year of the prophethood, at the beginning of the month of Muharram went on for three years. The starvation, despair, and famine the polytheists put the Muslims through could not hinder Islam’s development. Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) continued to duly deliver the message he had been appointed with and did not stop teaching Islam to his relatives and the Sons of Hashim for the slightest moment.

The Boycott was Lifted

It was the third year of the boycott.

Allah set a worm to go eat the sheet that the polytheists had hung on the Kaaba’s wall and notified His Messenger (PBUH) of this situation through a revelation. Only the writing, “Bismika Allahuma” (Allah, I begin with your name) remained on the sheet.

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) explained the situation to his uncle, Abu Talib. Upon this, Abu Talib went to the polytheists and made the following offer:

“According to the news that my brother’s son has brought, Allah set a worm on the paper that you had hung on the Kaaba’s wall and this worm ate everything on this paper-your terms of cruelty, cutting ties with relatives, and slander, except for the expression regarding Allah’s name. Go to the Kaaba and look at the sheet. If what I am saying is true, then forgo your cruelty and bad treatment of the Muslims. If he has, may Allah forgive me for saying this, lied, then I will surrender him to you. You are free to kill or keep him alive.” 

The polytheists went to the Kaaba and saw the situation exactly as Abu Talib described. Despite being amazed, they did not accept our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) miracle and turned their eyes away from the light.

This circumstance slightly lessened the intensity of this boycott. In 619 AD, when a few reputable people came forth, this practice, which stemmed from disbelief and a boundless level of stubbornness, was lifted. The community heard that this agreement had now been abolished; thus, they ripped and threw away the sheet containing the boycott’s terms.

In this way, the polytheists were turning away from the heresy and cruelty they had characterized as “an irrevocable decision.” This openly declared the victory of faith over disbelief once more.

The three-year blockade was so harsh and grueling that our Holy Prophet (PBUH) never forgot this situation even after the passing of many years. When the time came for Muslims to conquer Mecca and as they were going toward the city from Mina, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) reminded his companions of those difficult days by saying, “InshAllah (By Allah), the place that we are going tomorrow, the homeland of the Sons of Kinana, that is Muhassab, where the Qurayshis and sons of Kinana had agreed on unbelief and denial"

[timefirewrites]

COMIC SANS INTRO

Taglist (ask to be added/removed): @black-lakritz-dragon​​ @marewriteblr​​ @spacetimewraithwrites​ @emmaschoutenwrites​

ID under the cut would’ve prefered to put it here, but the post is already super long, sorry

[ID: thirteen google presentation slides, all written in the font comic sans, black text on a white background.

1. Title: “Gay Space Pirates", subtitle: “thats it thats the story”

2. Title: “What.” Text:

Okay so, everyone is queer

Literally, there’s not a single cishet character in this story

I’m not sorry <3

Most of the cast are non-humans, but the ones that aren’t are super diverse

Transfem muslim gal, intersex nerd with vitiligo, nonbinary overweight dumbass, I’ve got them all

There are also some disabled and mute characters

Oh, also they’re all neurodivergent because I said so

3. Title: “Setting!”, Text:

So, humans discovered aliens are real

and joined their Intergalactic Union

(which is definitely not evil)

That happened about 300 years ago and humans are now vibing all over the galaxy

Sounds great, right?

Well, for most humans, sure, but the ones who had to stay behind on Earth because they couldn’t afford space travel don’t like it as much

The situation on Earth is kind of shitty, and some people want to leave

4. Title: “pLoT??”, Text:

Neb is one of those people

They got an amazing plan to “borrow” a spaceship and never look back

Problem: Neb didn’t account for a robot to suddenly accompany them

The plan kind of fails real bad, but in the end the two escape from Earth

And immediately get picked up by space pirates

Fortunately, they don’t get killed

Because those pirates could really use an extra pair of hands or two, for their biggest mission yet

Which is retrieving a weapon apparently powerful enough to destroy the universe before someone else does

Nobody knows what it actually looks like though

5. Title: “Neb”, Text:

Nonbinary, aro and ace (they/them)

overweight

has idiopathic hypersomnia (basically means they sleep a lot)

also chronic migraines

pretty impulsive and says what they think

has a hard time trusting others

dreamt of going to space for as long as they can remember

On the right side of this slide is a picrew image, showing a person with brown skin, dark brown eyes and black, curly hair. They’re wearing a red bandana as well as a torn yeans jacket and have multiple scars on their skin. The background is the nonbinary flag.

6. Title: “Ahdia”, Text:

Transfem, bigender and pan (she/they)

mute

mechanic of the ship and the only one with a sense for fashion

happy go lucky and just overall fun to be around

pretty laid back, but would absolutely hunt you down if you hurt one of her friends

proud holder of the single brain cell this crew has

On the right side is an image as well, it shows a woman with fairer, but still brownish skin and brown eyes wearing a black hijab and a long-sleeved light blue shirt with clouds on it. The background is the trans flag.

7. Title: “Cap”, Text:

intersex, queer (they/them)

First time they show up, they’re holding a soda and pizza

likes organization in theory

wants to appear like a badass, but is too chaotic for that

needs to wear glasses, but doesn’t bother

Captain of the crew that picks Neb up

certified mess

Again, an image of the right shows a person, this time with dark brown skin and vitiligo, dark brown eyes and long, black dread-locks. They have some silver piercings in their ears and wear a dark purple hoodie. The background is the rainbow flag with the brown stripes on top.

The next three slides feature two columns each, each with an own title.

Title: “Com”, Text:

AI of the ship

shy and nervous mess

wants to visit all kinds of planets

loves taking care of plants

panromantic and ace

uses she/her, but doesn’t really care about gender

spends most of her time watching trashy romance movies

Title: “Coal”, Text:

The robot Neb befriended

Realized they were self-aware not even a day ago and already got anxiety

easily overwhelmed by everything

Has no idea what to do with themself

they/them

someone tells them knitting is a thing and they never do anything else ever again

Title: “Laser”, Text:

genderfluid, uses he/him or she/her

weapon specialist and tired of it

suffers from chronic neurogenic pain

speaks in a very monotone voice

writes poetry, but nobody is allowed to read it

canonically wears crocs

Title: “Lifo”, Text:

gender? no thanks (uses fel/fels pronouns)

tiny, but deadly

lost an arm and half a leg and replaced them with robotic parts (same for fels spine)

usually very loud, but can be completely silent if fel wants

cook of the ship

loves collecting trinkets

Title: “Nova”, Text:

He’s absolutely enormous, huge, colossal and every other synonym for really big you can think of

looks like he can kill you, is actually a cinnamon roll

licensed medic and mom friend of the crew

I lied when I said Ahida is the only one with a brain cell, Nova knows what he’s doing too

loves painting

Title: “Mer”, Text:

Don’t tell anyone I said this, but Mer is my favorite

if the name wasn’t clear enough, his species is aquatic

he’s beauty, he’s grace, he’ll punch you in the face

killed a man and will do so again

don’t cross him, he will get his revenge and you will regret your actions

seems like he has everything under control, but really doesn’t

11. Title: “some of my favorite lines”, Text (in no particular order):

“What’s up with your display?” Their voice sounded more steady now, which was good. 

“I do not understand.” Their voice on the other hand just sounded confused. 

“Oh, right. You probably can’t see it. You’re currently displaying an error message. Which just reads ‘error’. Not very helpful.” 

“Fuck. I didn’t deactivate it.”

“We could just go in and race to the top.” 

“What? No. Why would we do that? We can’t afford to get caught, we need to make a plan, Coal.” 

“You said you wanted an adventure. Plus, I do not think we could create a plan, seeing as we know next to nothing about its defence and security.” 

They said that because of them? They were just rambling earlier, not really thinking about it, just talking to fill the silence. 

“Okay. But if anything goes wrong, it’ll be your fault.”

“Uh, I don’t think so? Better not touch it, though.” As Lifo said that, Cap could see fel fighting against the desire to do just that. At least Com would be happy. 

Chapter 13 - they did surgery on a grape Neb

“Oh. I’m the ship. Nice to meet you?”

Whatever the hell was going on, they didn’t sign up for this.

“I am fine.” Perfectly fine. Mhm. 

Coal nodded, then just stood around? 

"You're outnumbered now! Coal agreed to watch Love On A Foreign Planet with me. So, uh, get moving, Fishsticks."

They settled on two things they were pretty sure were edible: a soda labeled “SpacePop: the best soda in the universe” with a “multiple sunsets on Madoras” flavor and some leftover pizza. (They were pretty sure Madoras didn’t exist, they never heard of that planet before. Maybe they shouldn’t drink that soda after all.)

“I’m Laser, my gender is a burning trash can and my pronouns depend entirely on the mercy of the universe.”

12. Title: “Homegrown memes”, this slide is filled with six different memes.

A windows error message, but the title and text is just screaming. The two options are “AAA” or “AAA”. It’s labeled “Coal”.

A photo of two people in wedding clothes. They’re labeled “Laser and Lifo”, in the background is a person falling from the sky, labeled “Com”.

Spiderman (labeled “Mer”) is holding a screen labeled “dealing with a breakup like a normal person”, in the next frame that screen is being thrown away as spiderman looks at a pc being held by someone else labeled as “commiting murder”.

A person is being kicked into a lake by someone else. They’re labeled “Coal trying to figure out what to do now that they’re self-aware”. The person kicking them is labeled “the plot”.

The “is this a pigeon” meme, but the guy is labeled as “Cap”, the butterfly as “wearing a hoodie and truly horrendous shorts” and the caption now says “is this formal dress attire?”.

The last meme is a chart, with five rows and two columns.

Row 1: Regularly says fuck: Coal, Lifo

Row 2: has sworn of saying fuck, but said it at some point: Cap, Neb

Row 3: has not said fuck before, but can if so desired: Laser, Ahdia, Mer

Row 4: has not said fuck before and refuses to say it: Com, Nova

Row 5: legally cannot say fuck: also Coal

13. This slide is an image of Earth as seen from space. Above it white text reads “the End”. /end ID]

[morrigansmuses]

3 Golden Rules.

On Ethical disappointments. 

I was raised to be tolerant. To consider the views and opinions of others, to keep and open mind. I was a social outsider (homeschooled due to racism in the local school.) I vowed I wouldn’t ever exclude people for being different to me or having different values. I was desperate to make and keep friends. More than anything.

I was 15 in the late 1990s. Lonely as hell. I decided that I would befriend absolutely anyone who would have me. Essentially anyone who wouldn’t beat me up on sight for being foreign.

I decided that I had 3 and only 3 dealbreakers in terms of friendship.

RULE 1. They couldn’t be cruel to animals.

RULE 2. They coudn’t sexually abuse children.

RULE 3 They couldn’t be a card carrying Nazi.

If anyone in my life did any of those things I couldn’t associate with them anymore. But barring that I would try to accept them as individuals. 

Thats a pretty low bar right? I mean how could anyone fail to meet those insanely low standards?

See back then I didn’t know that shades of grey existed. I knew in theory that we were all imperfect beings, but I didn’t know what that meant yet in reality.

So I began to make friends. With normal kids. Actually probably nicer than average kids because they were sweet and sensitive enough to accept me for who I was when no one else would.

So the first hurdle I came across was that some of these people I was friends with enjoyed hunting. They would say for meat. I get that. Better than factory farming right? less cruel, less wasteful.

“You shouldn’t eat meat unless you’re willing to kill it yourself” They’d say virtuously.  

But then I saw them in action. Delighting in the act of killing in a way that I knew wasn’t healthy. Laughing at the kid goat’s head bursting in a shower of gore or the way an animal screamed upon being shot. Killing more than they needed… That’s an impulse I don’t believe humans should engender in themselves.

But it was for food. Right? So I overlooked it and silenced the voice in my heart.

One day my best friend shot a stray cat with his bb gun just for the laugh. It didn’t kill the cat or anything but the animal yelped and ran away. I was so upset and shocked that I burst into tears and it all came pouring out. Was he training himself to become a sociopath? I asked him.

He apologised. He never did anything like it again. He was very kind to animals, especially cats, ever since and doesn’t hunt them anymore for any reason.

I forgave.

That’s the first time I remember compromising a core value. It was like a tooth being pulled from my 15 year old head. 

I don’t regret it.

We’re still best friends. 

The second hurdle that started to crack my young heart was the undeniable fact that in the early 2000s almost every guy I knew in his early 20s had a girlfriend between that ages of 12 and 15. NEVER OLDER. I can’t stress this enough. They would vomit in disgust at the thought of a crone of 18 or 19. They were also VERY vocal about their desire and right to have sex with children after a few drinks. By the time I was 20 I knew I had aged out of the 20s dating pool. I wasn’t attracted to older men. 

No matter. I’m asexual and prefer platonic relationships anyway.

To this day I’ve never had a romantic relationship with a man. Because once I realised that Rule 2 wasn’t one any of them could keep, the trust was broken.

It wasn’t only men either. My closest girlfriend was a 26 year old substitute teacher who fucked one of her 15 year old students on a drunk night out once…

So they both had fun and boys that age are up for anything right? I mean. He probably still boasts about it today…

Right?

Plus… She was all I had. Like the only one I had at the time. I was so scared of losing her.

I turned a blind eye and ear. I tolerated. I didn’t have to approve of their teenage girlfriends did I? After all there were so many of them that if I cut them out of my life I’d have no friends ever again. Because the whole of society looked like them…

Thats the truth.

People in my extended family have dated 17 or 18 year old girls and encouraged them to drop out of school to have their children. People I love have done that.

I once knew a handsome, intelligent and charming man. He was dating a family member for a few months. He often defended the right of adult men to date teens. “Girls mature more quickly than boys.” He’d argue. Everyone would agree. After all hadn’t my great grandmother been 12 years old when she met my great grandfather and married him on her 16th birthday (with parental permission)? He was in his 20s. Just a boy himself surely? “We all know what children boys in their 20s are right?” Said my Mother… Whom I love very much.

Excuses were made.

Years later I discovered the the handsome, intelligent and charming man had been raping a 6 year old the entire time we’d known him. He is still wanted by the police today.

My father tells that when he was a boy of 18 back in the 70s he had kicked an older German man, a respected family friend, out of his car because the man had asked him to pull over, he had something important to tell him. When he did so, the man said that the Holocaust was a myth. An exaggeration, a Zionist hoax.

My Father was dating my mother at the time. She’s Jewish. So is his uncle, a Holocaust survivor.

He yelled at the man not to talk shit and made him walk home.

I am not my father.

The first time a Holocaust denier (a respected local businessman) voiced their opinion to me I froze. Then laughed. Surely he must be kidding... I argued briefly before realising that he’d made up his mind.

My well meaning people said I’d made a mistake. It was my job, they said, to change his mind. To educate him. Otherwise how would he learn?

I didn’t speak to him again but I still nod at him in the street because he employs a few of my friends and I wouldn’t want to make things awkward for them.

And also I don’t want him to yell at me. 

I have worked with Holocaust survivors and have survivors in my immediate family and I still nod in the street at a Holocaust Denier because we are raised to be polite aren’t we? Let’s not make a scene. 

We’re mature adults.

Aren’t we?

People are starting to turn weirder than they used to be. Politically.

My Leftist friends are in a secret facebook group... Strenuously defending China’s Uyghur genocide because Communism can do no wrong… And at the same time saying all the Israelis need to be killed for what they’ve done to the Palestinians. One suggests a biological weapon tailored to Jews.

My Centrist friends are suggesting we “Hang up democracy for a while” in order to combat global warming and welcome a global police state and stop “kicking off” about our rights all the time. “Maybe we need a jackboot up the arse” one of them says.

And the ones that aren’t on the Left?

My facebook feed these days is getting awfully full of Rothschild memes.

“We own every bank in the world and funded both sides of every war since Waterloo.” They say, next to a grinning caricature of Jacob de Rothschild. Reminiscent of a Nazi cartoon of a “Rat Jew.”

Even a hedge fund billionaire prick doesn’t deserve that, does he?

I don’t comment. What’s the point? They’ve watched all the youtube and don’t read history books on principal.

My Brother is getting into Qanon. So is my Sister in Law.

She follows the medical teachings of a man who thinks the Jews invented Chemotherapy to kill the Germans after the war. Apparently he is becoming more and more popular.

Eccentrics.

Thats all.

I’m half Jewish. Like My Brother.

One of the Survivors I know said that 3 weeks after the Nazi propaganda came into the school he attended, he was in Bergen Belsen and half his family was dead.

His neighbour was jealous because his father had 2 more cows than he did.

I hear Marine Le Pen is neck and neck with Macron to win France.

A good friend of mine said it's because by 2030 Muslims will outnumber white people in Europe. He won’t read the articles I send him. But he sure sends me a lot of YouTubes.

I ignore them because I don’t want to hate him. Maybe he ignores my articles for the same reason.

Hey 15 year old me…. You, skinny thing with the ethics, the braces and black eyeliner…

Those compromises I made were made out of love... And also fear. 

Please stop looking at me like that little girl.

“It’s true” writes my friend. They’re trying to breed us out. It’s all an elite Zionist plot.”

I close Whatsapp.

Here I go again I guess…

[peachyteabuck]

pull you out of here

summary: asgard needs a queen, thor wishes to defy his father, and you seem to be the solution to both

pairing: dark!thor odinson x reader

words: 4,971

trigger warnings: dark possessive thor, stalking, emotional manipulation, heavy dubcon, smut, slight breeding kink, heavy angst, cheating, unhealthy relationships 

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

To say that Thor was mad would be an understatement. To say Frigga cared would be a complete lie.

“He’s trying to get me to marry, Mother,” he nearly screams. Nonetheless, the woman remains calm. “To cede some of my power to some woman!”

Frigga watches her son stomp around her chambers with a watchful eye, never moving from her seat across the room. She’s watched her son – her lovely, wonderful son – perform this long-winded act many times before; when Loki came into their lives, whenever Frigga had to force them to share. Thor, in classic eldest-sibling fashion, thoroughly disliked anyone impeding on what he thought to be his.

His toys, his room, his room, his power. All of it, everything he wished for, was his.

This included his throne, apparently, as is made obvious by his red-faced rambling.

“What, is he going to pluck some maiden from the streets of Asgard? Make her some puppet for during in my rule?” he’s stomping now, nearly spitting.

He stays like that – acting the same way he did when Loki stole a single potato from his plate when he was old enough to walk and talk and feel but young enough to not have a single muscle on his lanky body.

Just like usual, he eventually tires himself out, using his last bit of energy to bark in the general direction of a servant to get him some ale. He sits in the chair across from his mother, elbow resting on his knees.

Thor’s voice is quieter now, much more pensive. “Mother, what am I going to do?”

Frigga waits for the servant to bring the large drink and for Thor to gulp half of it down before responding. “What you father wants is for you to have a bride – it’s important to the people you rule over. What your father wants –“

“Is for me to give my power to some woman,” Thor scoffs into his drink. “I’m aware.”

Frigga rolls her eyes. “No, darling. What your father wants is to make sure the woman is to his tastes.”

Her son scoffs. “What does that mean?”

“It means, if you picked a woman from say,” the woman shrugs. “Midgard, then he wouldn’t be able to say no to her for fear of backlash from the Asgardians,” Thor smiles as she continues talking, now understanding. “They love their humans, you know.”

They laugh together, happy as their devised their plan: Thor would leave the next day for Midgard, spend some time there, woo some woman he knows will not impede too much into his duties as king.

So, when Thor saw you in that faded orange cardigan, the leggings that showed off your thick thighs, and a well-loved t-shirt that looked incredibly soft with your hair piled on top of your head and fuzzy socks on your feet and you yawning so adorably as you waited for your coffee to be finished, he knew he had to have you. Sure, maybe he was being shallow when he thought about being buried between your thick thighs or laying on your large breasts, and maybe he should’ve learned more about your personality before calling you his “dream girl.” But still, he knew you were the one and he needed to get you to fall in love with him ASAP.

There were a few problems with this mission:

First: he didn’t know your name, your job in the tower, or how to find you. He knew you as “the adorable one who likes coffee,” which doesn’t narrow it down, especially because they were in New York and more specifically Stark Tower, where everyone within city limits was running on two gallons of coffee, anxiety, and institutional access to research databases.

Second: after pestering every Avenger he could find, Thor found out that you had a boyfriend. A long-term one, too. About five years is what Steve begrudgingly told Thor after the God broke into his personal gym during his morning run on the treadmill (that day it was hailing, and Captain America will put up with a lot – but he refuses to get hit in the face with golf-ball sizes sphere of ice). A few minutes later, Barton (who admitted very quickly to listening through the vents) told Thor that rumor had it he was going to propose pretty soon – had picked the ring and restaurant out but hadn’t booked the reservation.

Third: very soon after learning that you were taken, Thor also learned that he would likely be spending a lot of time with you since where you worked and his favorite place ended up being the exact same. Tony’s personal lab (where he often worked with Bruce), was pretty much where you lived. Your official job description was akin to “personal librarian,” which meant keeping the lab orderly so Tony could on inventing things (or whatever else it is he does). Once, about a day before Pepper decided to hire someone, Tony spent four hours sorting screws.

Four. Entire. Hours.

You, with your degree in IT and concentration in database creation and management, were perfect for the job. He was even allowing you to use his lab for research – making you a pioneer in a field you didn’t realize existed until LexisNexis contacted you asking to moonlight as a consultant during their company-wide restructuring.

Some (mostly those who interviewed for the job and didn’t get it) called you a glorified assistant, a nanny whose only job was to clean up toys. Still, Tony spoke highly of you during parties and interviews and whenever anyone complimented his lab.

Given your dedication to your work, a few months in Tony offered you an apartment a few floors down. It was newly renovated, and since most Stark employees lived in Stark Industries-subsidized housing not located within HQ, you lived mostly secluded from everyone else.

To you, it was amazing. You never had to see anyone you didn’t intend to and you never had to brave the famously-bad New York winter weather just to go to bed. In all honesty, it was your dream life.

Thor, though, had to disagree. It made it impossible to “bump into you,” he never saw you when you weren’t working (you made it very clear you preferred to either a) work in silence or b) listen to music or an audiobook you picked). Even if he managed to catch a glimpse of you on your lunch break, you always seemed to be more interested in something else – a book, a conversation, whatever. Never, ever, did he seem to be able to catch you off guard.

About a week in, he realized this would be much harder than he originally thought.

Over the course of six months, Thor learned a few things:

First: you really like to read. He ends up asking Natasha (arguably the person you’re closest with) about every book you like in an attempt to have something to talk about.

Second (before he wanted to talk to you about the Poisonwood Bible but after he finally got Natasha to crack): You really don’t like your boyfriend, and your boyfriend doesn’t really seem to like you. When he asks why you two are still dating, Natasha just shrugs sadly.

“That’s a story for her to tell, not me, Odinson,” she said.

Third (the next morning, he sniffed around the kitchen to find anyone who would tell him anything about you): You were incredibly insecure about your body. He learned that from Steve. He learned from Sam that this was why you stayed with your emotionally distant romantic partner; because you thought you couldn’t find anyone better.

This, of course, was a lot of information to handle at once. So Thor did what a bunch of bubbly college students on YouTube called “mind-maps” so he could sort out his thoughts. What started as a fresh, clean, white sheet of graph paper ended up being a masterplan to win you over.

Step 1: Have a solid conversation with you

This happens much faster than expected. The next morning, to be exact. It’s sort of warming up, so you’re wearing a thin pullover and a pair of tight, light grey jeans. The pullover has some Midgardian logo on it, one Thor doesn’t recognize. When you turn around as you wait for the coffee machine, he asks you about it.

“What’s on your…” he gestures to said logo.

You smile bashfully, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “It’s, uh, it’s just some concept art for a book I like. ”

Thor beams. He knows he’s got you. “What book?”

You shrug, grabbing the pot and pouring the steaming liquid into your peach pink travel mug. “It’s called Nothing, it’s by Janne Teller…

From there, you and him talk about what’s possibly the darkest book of all time. You explain to him the plot, the emotion it evokes from you. It truly is your favorite piece of literature; you really could talk about it for hours.

So, you do. Over your morning coffee, then a larger-than-usual breakfast, and then lunch. You make grilled cheese and tomato soup, biting every few sentences.

“God, my favorite line, like of the entire book is like,” you take a bite, chewing as you speak. “So Pierre is talking to these kids, and this one kid is Muslim, and gave up the prayer mat, or rather was made to give up his prayer mat. And Pierre is like ‘what price was your faith?’ And that line has like, continued to haunt me. It’s just,” you swallow. “What price do we pay to prove ourselves to others, you know?”

Thor listens intently as you speak, nodding and smiling as you go on. It’s amazing how much someone lights up when they talk about something they’re passionate about. It’s probably mid-afternoon when you finally realize that you’ve been talking for literal hours.

“Oh my god,” you gush, collecting the dishes and placing them in the sink. “I’m so sorry, I’ve been-”

Thor grabs your wrist, bunching at the sleeve. “No, please do not apologize. I have been meaning to talk to you for a long time.”

You blush, not meeting his eyes. “Why would someone like you want to talk to someone like me…”

That’s sort of when Thor’s suave facade cracks a little. You’re everything he’s ever wanted in a partner. Literally ever. And your inability to see that troubles him deeply.

“My dear, you’re so smart and quick and eloquent,” he tells you, never break eye contact. “Don’t even think I don’t want to be around you.”

You blush, not responding while scuttering off and mumbling something about having to go to a meeting for Stark.

Step 2: Get you to spend what Natasha and Wanda call “quality time” with him.

This one happens a little while later. Tony, in an effort to reward you, gave you some time off. The problem is that you hate taking off work, you always have. It’s impossible for you to feel good when you’re not being productive, and the idea of laying around for three days is unimaginable to you.

“Listen, you need some sun, you’ve been cooped up in here for weeks,” Tony tried to plead with you as he hanged upside down from the ceiling.

“C’mon, I’m not a house plant! What am I going to do anyway?” you cry out from your spot on the floor.

Just then, Natasha happened to walk through the door with a paperwork mishap. If there was a lightbulb above her head, it would’ve burned bright enough to blind them. Without doing anything that even resembles what she originally walked into the lab to do, Natasha bolts out at the speed of lightning.

“THOR!” she screams when she enters his apartment. “THOR, I HAVE SOME VERY GOOD NEWS!”

Promptly, he comes out in just a towel, glowing like some candle in a dark room. “Yes, Natasha?”

She takes a minute to wolf whistle before she beings. “The darling girl you’ve had your eye on has a few days off coming up...you should take her somewhere! Do something!”

Thor’s silent. He sort of didn’t think this would ever happen...now that he has the opportunity he’s a little floored. It’s like when you’ve been doodling hearts with your crush’s name in them and then they actually talk to you. “Oh...oh Gods...what do I do? How should I ask her…”

Natasha’s a little giddy with excitement at the prospect of Thor taking you out. You’ve been so good to them in so many different ways...she wants someone to do something nice to you for once. If that meant setting you up with the super-hot God of Thunder (and Fertility...wink wink), then so be it.

“Oh goodness, you can do anything!” she mentally runs through all of the endless possibilities. “She’ll want something quiet, quaint...coffee shop? No, that’s too boring. Some fair thing? No, that’s too crazy, loud. Maybe you could...oh my God that’s perfect!”

Thor, still in a towel but now dry, looks confused. Appreciative, but confused. “What, Natasha...what is it?”

Her grin stretches from ear to ear, teeth flashing and eyes bright. “You should help her organize the bookshelf in her room, she’s been talking about it for ages and she’s always talks about she’s never had the time or the energy and-”

“You think the best way for me to get to know the future mother of my children is to help her organize her...shelf of books?” Thor is now dressed. Natasha doesn’t question it.

“Uh...hells yeah! Listen, dude. If you really want to get to know her you need to get her in a situation, she’s comfortable with,” Natasha sees she has a text indicating she’s needed for some logistical work for the next mission and turns to leave. Right before the elevator, though, she turns to face Thor again. “But don’t mention the ‘mother of children thing’...it’s weird.”

Thor takes note as he prepares to ask you about the...date? Is it a date? That he’s planning on taking you on. Luckily, he doesn’t have to try too hard, because Wanda and Steve less than five minutes later to help him.

“Oh Thor-egous Odinson!” Wanda sing-songs as she enters into his living room. She practically bouncing off of the walls as she goes to sit down next to Thor on the large, plush couch.

“Hey Thor,” Steve mumbles quietly. He chooses a chair across from both of them, obviously extremely uncomfortable with the situation. He’s one of the few people who knows you really well, though, so the need for qualified individuals overpowers his personal feelings about manipulating you into going on a date with the God (Natasha refused to use that word when Steve brought it up, though. “I’m just encouraging her, Steven, calm down,” she tried to explain to him on the elevator up. “Don’t call me that,” is all Steve replied).

“So,” Wanda chirps. “Nat told us you wanted to help our favorite little book worm organize her bookshelves on her sequence of days off?”

Thor gives a small noise of affirmation, knowing very well that Wanda and Natasha understand you the best. If he had any choice of making his plan work, they would have to be a part of it – whether they knew it or not.

They spent hours talking about you – both of them providing deep analysis of your likes, dislikes, preferences. The things you love, hate.

It ended with lists sprawled on scraps of paper, things they told Thor he had to memorize if had “a sliver of hope” of having you like him.

With pockets stuffed full of these promises, he walked away with a small smirk and much better idea of how execute his plan, as has all led him into the next step:

Step 3: Make you like him much more than your current paramour.

This part appears to be the easiest, given your boyfriend is an aggressively mediocre man-child. You’ve got a picture of you and him on one of the bookshelf cubicles not overcome by thick books, next to a few small figurines of miscellaneous origin.

Thor asks about them as you both work to clear the bookshelf, throwing everything on the floor to be sorted later. Each one makes smile brightly for a few moments before sadness overtakes your eyes. One of them – a small fawn curled into a sleeping position on a small, circular bed of grass – seems to bring a special wave of melancholy to your face.

“Yeah, that was from when we met, a, uh, a study abroad program to a Canadian university. He and I had a mutual friend who made miniatures for fun – still does, actually – and we met through her. He bought me that for our first anniversary.”

Thor does his best to hide his wicked smile, but nevertheless is appreciative of your downcast eyes. “It sounds like he really loves you.”

You don’t disagree, just sigh. “So, can you help me sort these books by color type?”

Thor smiles wide as he can. “Of course.”

As he separates the books into four piles (warms, cools, white, and black), he goes over the state of his plan:

Step 4: Have you break up with your current paramour.

This step seems to be a significantly harder step, given your stubbornness surrounding being with him. It’s not as if Thor can grab you by the shoulders and say “he doesn’t love you! He’ll never love you! Just stop being in a relationship with him!”

He totally can’t do that, right? Right?

(After a few communiques with his mother they both decide, no, he can in fact not do that.)

So he settles for driving a wedge between the two of you that even he can fit in. Somehow, that seems just as good.

Step 5: Have you join him in Asgard.

This, too, feels much harder than sowing dislike between you and your…previous courtesan.

You’re smart, interesting, something Thor has yet to see in many possible wives. The problem is, your intelligence and fascinating nature are tied to your highly demanding job that you are, unfortunately, very attached to. Attempting to keep you for anything longer than your contractually obligated lunch break is tough enough, how could he convince you leave your job? Your home?

The floor-to-ceiling bookshelves – now organized by color – stare down at Thor almost mockingly. He wonders, as he hears the teapot screeching and two mugs being placed onto the counter, if his plan worked. You’re naïve, sure, but too naïve for him to mold? He’s been manipulating people since he was a golden child – him misreading you would be a blow to his ego, his very being.

But he cannot give up. Not when he’s only two steps into his plan.

As such, Thor spends the next few weeks following you around – doing everything he possible could to make your life easier. A mug too high? He would grab it before you could sigh about what shelf it was on. Dirty dishes? He’d fill the dishwasher, do the handwashing, and put all the clean dishes away after drying them. He did laundry and put it all away in its exact place.

Natasha made a comment Thor didn’t understand about 1960’s housewives, to which the god said nothing in return. He’d join you multiple times a week to do whatever you wanted – sometimes you’d watch a movie together, other times he’d help you shop online. Sometimes he’d help you cook food for the week, once he listened to you talk about new academic research you were interested in.

One special week he even held you as you cried about the man who was supposed to be the love of your life. That week, he wiped your tears and held you as you feel asleep, nuzzling into one of the many large hoodies he had acquired on his time on Midgard. That week, he thought he had cracked it – thought he had finally figured out how to get what wants.

Unfortunately for him, the truth was not kind to his endeavors. Not even a full day had passed before you were gushing over the man once more, sparkles in your eyes and hands clutching the latest “cute” thing he had texted you.

It was sickening, really, how easily you allowed yourself to be manipulated by him. Still, it gave Thor an ounce of hope. It this imbecile could get you crawling back to him, surely a god could do it too.

So he kept with the constant visits, with the bringing you lunch and coffee and eating take out on the floor of your bedroom and watching bad movies with you. It was menial, but it was working.

You began to trust him, began to get used to his presence.

For this reason (and maybe a few more you didn’t want to talk about), the knock on your door at dusk on a Wednesday was not exactly unexpected. For this reason, you answered the door in a loose crop top and soft, worn pajama shorts and ankle socks with smiling avocados on them.

You opened the door to him, excited to show him the duvet he had helped you pick out. It looked so much better in person, and you thought he’d like it.

He followed you, of course he did, into your bedroom. You were expecting that.

What you weren’t expecting was him to slam you into one of the few spots on the wall devoid of posters, trinkets, other miscellaneous crap that made the place feel a little more like a home.

You couldn’t see much over his broad shoulders, but somehow the top shelf of the very bookcase he had help you organize all that time ago.

Each title seemed to mock you as he began to speak.

“You’ve been holding out on me, little lamb,” he said with a sneer.

You tried to push at his muscular chest to no avail. “Thor, I don’t know what you’re t-“

He pushes you against the wall once more, ignoring your cries in pain. “Shut the fuck up, you know exactly what I mean.”

He rips the crop top off – revealing your simple black bralette. He moans as his large hands palm at your breasts, and you have to fight one yourself, too. It’s been so long since you’d had sex, let alone gone to first base; your lover (the one you had been with for over five years) hadn’t touched you like that since you’d decided to move into Stark Tower and your less-than-extensive sex toy collection had satisfied you in the very least.

Still, this was wrong. Very, very wrong.

“C’mon,” he growls, moving his hands south. “You know you want to…”

“I-” You try to push him away, only being able to think of how you were going to explain this to a man you thought one day you’d marry. You have to tell him, right? You have to tell him about what Thor tried. That’s the basis of good relationships, communication. “No, I don’t, Thor please-“

That’s when the last bit of him cracks, the soft edges to his voice sharpening and his jaw squaring.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he growls, ripping the shorts off next. “Do you understand all the shit I’ve put up with for you? All while your shithead boyfriend barely sent you a fucking text once a week to see if you were alright.”

“Thor, I-“

“No,” he shouts, making you flinch away from him. “Don’t excuse him! Don’t try and tell me he loves you like I do!”

That makes your eyes widen in fear, makes your hands shake where they’re pined at your side.

Thor softens everywhere except in his grip, keeping you pressed against him. “Oh, darling you don’t have to worry. I’m never gonna hurt you…”

A smile spreads across his face, then, leaning close to your ear. “Unless you want me to.”

He palms your clothed pussy, slipping two fingers inside of your dripping heat. It’s a delicious feeling and you fight back a moan, terrified to give him the satisfaction.

“C’mon darling,” Thor coos. “Let me hear you.”

He removes his fingers, then, smiling when you whine before stuffing his thick cock inside of you. It fits easily, given how wet you are, and for a moment – just a moment – you lose yourself to the pleasure.

“O-Oh,” you moan. “Oh, that feels so good.”

It all breaks down when Thor speaks once more, though. words flowing between him biting at your hot skin.

“That’s right, love,” his hands roam your body with fervor. “Let me make you feel good.”

It’s then that your mouth goes dry and a sense of dread washes over you.

“I-,” you try to find your verbal footing, wanting to find a path away from him. “I shouldn’t be doing this, I-“

You freeze when Thor uses one of his large hands to wrap around your throat, pinning you between him and the wall.

“Are you fucking serious?” he growls. “You’re really thinking about him right now?”

He nearly spits when he mentions your boyfriend, skin hot from fury.

“Think of all the things I’ve done for you!” he hisses into your ear. “How much easier I made your life. What has your boyfriend done for you?”

You don’t respond. In turn, he only fucks into you harder.

“That’s right. I know how little he loves you, and how little you love him,” you scream as he flips you around, using one hand to pins both your arms behind your back with your cheek pressed to the cool wall. “And yet you stay with him, why?”

You say nothing in return, though it’s not like you could. Each word dies in your throat when Thor thrusts into you once again. All that’s able to escape are choked sobs, broken pleas that sound more animal than human. Part of you wonders if Thor can hear you, another part wonders, if he could, would he care? If he truly understands what he’s doing, does it matter whether or not you want to push him away and cut away the skin he’s touched?

You can’t tell which is worse – dangerous naivety in combination with his strength, or determination blended with disregard.

Fiery tears burn as they stream down the already heated skin of your cheeks, but even that isn’t enough to distract from the feeling of Thor’s large hands all over you.

“C’mon little lamb,” he growls, voice sending bolts of electricity through you. “Cum for me.”

He swipes at your clit in smooth, tight circles, golden hot pleasure flooding your veins.

You reach your peak with a deep, chesty moan, nails digging into the skin of his back as you bucked your hips near violently.

“F-fuck,” Thor growls, continuing to thrust into you. “You feel so good around my cock, little lamb. You’ll have to excuse me, you’re going to make me cum much sooner than I would on an average night.”

Your eyes widen in fear, ready to plead for him to pull out.

Thor just lets out a small laugh, nipping at your skin. “Don’t worry, lamb, I won’t fill you with my seed.”

You let out a sigh of relief, but it doesn’t last for long.

“The last thing either of us need is for you to be bearing the mark of my child away from our people.”

You barely have time to react before Thor tucks his face into your neck as he finishes himself off, thick white ropes of cum painting your lower half.

You think it’s over, but of course it isn’t – that would be too fucking easy. He moves two of his rough fingers – still smelling distinctly of your sex – through his masterpiece before shoving them deep into your mouth, smiling. At first you gag, but as your blood begs for oxygen you accept your fate and clean the salty substance with your tongue.

“There you go,” he coos, beaming as he gazes down at you. “Such a good little lamb…I wonder if you can clean my cock like that?”

You can’t tell which you flinch harder at, the nickname or the thought of him sticking his dick past your lips and down your throat.

“Oh, don’t try to act like you don’t like it,” Thor says between light kisses he peppers across your neck. “Don’t you just love the idea of servicing me forever?”

You can feel him getting hard again against your thigh and you whimper, desperate to get away.

“Fuck don’t make that noise, little lamb, makes me want you more,” Thor groans. “Just imagine it – you and me on Asgard. I can rule and you can be my pretty little pet.”

Your eyes widen in fear, brain now fully comprehending what, exactly, Thor wants from you.

“Thor, please,” you beg. “Please, let’s be rational. I mean, Stark needs me! Right? You know how much Tony needs me!”

Thor just laughs, burrowing his nose into the nap of your neck. “Oh, my little lamb. We’ll figure it out – maybe you can train someone else to do your job. Or Tony can finally figure out how to be a man and figure that shit out himself,” he pulls back to kiss at your temple, whispering into your sweaty hair. “To be honest, I really don’t care. He’ll lose you soon enough, and how he handles that is neither of our problems.”

It’s then that you understand, that you really understood what was happening with Thor, what he wants from you.

In that moment, you understood that if your world was crashing down, and Thor would be there to pick up the pieces – whether you wanted to or not.

[kyutown]

hi love! 🌌💗✨🔮 i was wondering if i could get a txt, stray kids and the boyz ship please?

my love language is quality time, words of reassurance.

i'm enfp, scorpio, hufflepuff, i'm french muslim pansexual nonbinary she/they. i have long curly light brown hair, almond shaped hazel eyes and a few moles on my face. i'm 5'4. i have a wide smile with dimples. i'm chubby and will start a diet for myself and only myself.

i'm open minded, would defend anyone i think is being right but judged. i'm a people pleaser. i'm an affectionate person. i show my love to my friends by making fun of them (i never cross the line though) or of myself, i am funny and creative. if I can make someone laugh i get really happy. i am clumsy (trip on air and hit myself against furniture constantly also almost drop anything i hold). i'm sarcastic and humourous. i often quote vine or audios on tiktok i find funny. i am basically a walking meme i guess. i have a funny laugh and laugh a lot, i am a happy person. i can be loud one moment and suddenly really calm. i am ambivert. i am always listening to music with earphones, dancing and making choreographies. i'm stubborn but patient. i'm sensitive and prefer to talk things out, i'm pretty calm but can get scary when annoyed or really angry.

i am a dancer. i have two cats. i like learning languages, i can speak french, english fluently, italian and spanish moderately (want to be fluent in italian) and i'm starting to learning korean seriously.

i dress in multiple aesthetic and don't limit myself to a couple, i own 'quirky' earrings (tank golden fish, cherries, bubble tea and shiba dog ones). i like makeup especially eyeliner, lipgloss and mascara. i believe that family doesn't necessarily mean blood for personal reasons and from experience.

my favourite soloist is jessi as well as hyuna. they are my role models in a way.

i am the kind of person who likes to do multiple things though i often stop something and never or later finish it. i'm overly confident yet extremely self-conscious. i often need reassurance because of trauma i have and trust issues with my family with transphobia and homophobia, and just what i do in general. i had my mother tell me i am manipulative that my friend and family actually didn't like me and it sometimes gets to my mind again even though i know they love me.

i've been a huge fan of harry potter since i was two year old with the videogames on ps1 my grandmother owned. i like marvel, the maze runner, parasite the hobbit alice in wonderland and peter pan. my favourite series are alice in borderland, the umbrella academy.

I get scared easily but laugh and scream when i get scared. i speak with my hands a lot and I'm really expressive (i make funny face, purse my lips a lot or frown). i use the finger guns too much and the word period too haha. i zone out a lot and talk to myself constantly. i would like to become an english teacher and still dance in the future.

the perfect date would be either chilling in my apartment or his, going out to the amusement park or a picnic. i get shy when i first meet someone but warm up to them fast. i get shy with people who are interested in me romantically even if i knew them for a while.

thanks and take your time! i hope you have a wonderful day/night love you! 💗💗💗😊😊😊

hi! thank you for responding!

for txt, i think huening kai would be a nice match! huening kai would be such a nice friend and companion! he would be the type to stick up for you, make you feel better, help you whenever you had a bad day, would make you smile and would always have time for you! huening kai would love that you like to try new things like new languages! he would also try to attempt to learn a new language and would always make sure to try things you like to do so that you guys can do it together!

for stray kids, i think chan would be a good fit! chan is very caring and would be the one to help you through your rough times and support you whenever! when something someone tells you gets to your head and you feel bad, he would comfort in any way possible. from snacks, cuddles, and movies to a nice car drive with a great view and music playing! he would also say many kind words to you like a compliment on your outfit to a sentence telling you what he likes about you!

for the boyz, i think you would match well with hyunjae! hyunjae is the type to laugh very easily so whenever you make a funny face or say something funny to him, he would always laugh and giggle at your funny actions! hyunjae would also dance along with you! he would create new choreographies with you and would learn new ones as well! he would watch movies with you and would share some of his favorites! he would also watch your favorite movies or movies you recommend so that he can enjoy things you enjoy!

[blacklungbaby]

hi! 🔮🌌🧚🏻‍♀️✨ i was wondering if i could get a ahs, harry potter, stranger things, the umbrella academy and 13rw ship please?

my love language is quality time, words of reassurance.

i'm enfp, scorpio, hufflepuff, i'm french muslim pansexual nonbinary she/they. i have long curly light brown hair, almond shaped hazel eyes and a few moles on my face. i'm 5'4. i have a wide smile with dimples. i'm chubby and will start a diet for myself and only myself.

i'm open minded, would defend anyone i think is being right but judged. i'm a people pleaser. i'm an affectionate person. i show my love to my friends by making fun of them (i never cross the line though) or of myself, i am funny and creative. if I can make someone laugh i get really happy. i am clumsy (trip on air and hit myself against furniture constantly also almost drop anything i hold). i'm sarcastic and humourous. i often quote vine or audios on tiktok i find funny. i am basically a walking meme i guess. i have a funny laugh and laugh a lot, i am a happy person. i can be loud one moment and suddenly really calm. i am ambivert. i am always listening to music with earphones, dancing and making choreographies. i'm stubborn but patient. i'm sensitive and prefer to talk things out, i'm pretty calm but can get scary when annoyed or really angry.

i am a dancer. i have two cats and i talk to them a lot as if them could understand me, either it speaking with words or meows. i like learning languages, i can speak french, english fluently, italian and spanish moderately (want to be fluent in italian) and i'm starting to learning korean seriously.

i dress in multiple aesthetic and don't limit myself to a couple, i own 'quirky' earrings (tank golden fish, cherries, bubble tea and shiba dog ones). i like makeup especially eyeliner, lipgloss and mascara. i believe that family doesn't necessarily mean blood for personal reasons and from experience.

my favourite soloist is jessi as well as hyuna. they are my role models in a way.

i am the kind of person who likes to do multiple things though i often stop something and never or later finish it. i'm overly confident yet extremely self-conscious. i often need reassurance because of trauma i have and trust issues in my family with transphobia and homophobia, and just what i do in general. i had my mother tell me i am manipulative that my friend and family actually didn't like me and it sometimes gets to my mind again even though i know they love me.

i've been a huge fan of harry potter since i was two year old with the videogames on ps1 my grandmother owned. i like marvel, the maze runner, parasite the hobbit alice in wonderland and peter pan. my favourite series are alice in borderland, the umbrella academy.

I get scared easily but laugh and scream when i get scared. i speak with my hands a lot and I'm really expressive (i make funny face, purse my lips a lot or frown). i use the finger guns too much and the word period too haha. i zone out a lot and talk to myself constantly. i would like to become an english teacher and still dance in the future.

the perfect date would be either chilling in my apartment or his, going out to the amusement park or a picnic. i get shy when i first meet someone but warm up to them fast. i get shy with people who are interested in me romantically even if i knew them for a while.

thanks and take your time for the ships! love you and have a wonderful day/night! 💗💗💗

sorry this took so long love! xx

American Horror Story

I ship you with...

Misty Day

Harry Potter -

Cedric Diggory

Stranger Things -

Robin Buckley

The Umbrella Academy -

Klaus Hargreeves

13 Reasons Why -

Zach Dempsey

[monbeauloup]

my love language is quality time, words of reassurance. i'm enfp-t, scorpio, hufflepuff, i'm french muslim pansexual nonbinary they/he/she, i use any pronouns but this is the order i prefer. i have long curly light brown hair, almond shaped hazel eyes and a few beauty marks on my face. i'm 163cm/5'4ft. i have a wide smile with dimples. i'm chubby and will start a diet for myself and only myself. my favourite colours are lavender (or most shades of purple like russian violet and midnight purple), green sage, canary yellow, light grey blue and brick red. i'm open minded, would defend anyone i think is being right but judged. i really hate unfairness even in the littlest things, as well as toxicity in any form, it triggers me. i'm a people pleaser. i'm an affectionate person. i show my love to my friends by making fun of them (i never cross the line though) or of myself. i am funny and creative. if I can make someone laugh even if i have to embarrass myself in the process i get really happy. i am clumsy (trip on air and hit myself against furniture constantly also almost drop anything i hold). i'm sarcastic and humorous. i often quote vine or audios on tiktok i find funny. i am basically a walking meme i guess. i have a funny laugh and laugh a lot. i am a happy person. i can be loud one moment and suddenly really calm. i am an ambivert. i'm stubborn but patient. i'm sensitive and prefer to talk things out, i'm pretty calm but can get scary when annoyed or really angry. my biggest pet peeve is when people talk to me but when someone will try to get their attention they will right away go to talk to them as if i wasn’t talking in the first place and what i was saying is meaningless, so when people interrupt me and don’t listen to me. i have this habit of cracking my bones constantly, it relaxes me.

i am always listening to music with earphones, dancing and making choreographies. i enjoy listening to kpop. i like to write and when i do i like to put in as many details as possible. i have two cats. i like learning languages, i can speak french, english fluently, italian and spanish moderately and i'm starting to learn korean seriously. i dress in multiple aesthetics. i own 'quirky' earrings. i like makeup. i want to experience a lot with my hair, i would love to bleach and dye it in multiple colours. i believe that family doesn't necessarily mean blood for personal reasons and from experience. i am the kind of person who likes to do multiple things though i often stop something and never or later finish it. i'm overly confident yet extremely self-conscious. i often need reassurance because of trauma i have and trust issues with my family with transphobia and homophobia. my favourite series are alice in borderland and the umbrella academy. i like animes. i get scared easily but laugh and scream when i get scared. i speak with my hands a lot and i am really expressive. i use the finger guns too much and the word period too haha. i zone out a lot and talk to myself constantly. i would like to become an english teacher and still dance in the future. the perfect date would be either chilling in my apartment, going out to the amusement park or a picnic. i get slightly shy when i first meet someone but warm up to them fast. i get shy with people who are interested in me romantically even if i knew them for a while.

~*~

i ship you with dorcas meadowes! ♡

power couple.

leo and scorpio. when you put these two together sparks will inevitably fly.

you met for the first time, while she was on her way to the great hall and you bumped straight into her.

having been writing, you weren’t watching where you were going and bumped into her on complete accident.

she sweetly assures you, that everything’s fine and that she’s glad, you didn’t hurt yourself.

you meet again through a mutual friend and she asks you out.

having a lovely picnic at the black lake, while the sun is beaming down.

you’re both the happiest when you’re together. never ending laughs, glistening eyes and smiles.

same sense of humor and sarcasm.

when she asked you to be her partner, she follows it up with “should i call you my partner? significant other? do you have a personal preference?”

the black lake is your favorite place. just you and her slowly stepping down to the soft murmur of the water, the smell of flowers, picnics, braiding each other's hair and just spending some quality time together.

“i have something for you,” she says and holds out her hand, revealing a large shell. the spirals are perfectly formed and colored in lavender and all possible shades of purple. “a gift,” she continues.

you take the shell, fingertips brushing against dorcas' palm as you do. “thank you” you say. “it's beautiful.”

gestures like that to show you how much she cares.

deep talks about everything there is in life. she’s the one who understands, listens and gives you lot of reassurance.

feels like she needs to protect you and be with you always.

you dye each other’s hair with spells you found in a book from the library.

the magic seemed to flow fairly naturally, quite instantly beginning to yank at your hair, slowly recoloring it.

being bilingual and interested in languages, she loves that you’re french.

“what means doe (her nickname) in french, love?”

from that moment on, you're calling her "ma biche" and she gets all teary eyed.

the ESFJ / ENFP-T match is an interesting one.

attracted to each other's warmth, sensitivity and kindness to each other’s needs.

many subjects to discuss, a common sensibility, humanity and a very big envy to share and talk.

invites you to dance parties in the gryffindor common room and she regularly comes over for the monthly hufflepuff sleepover and helps you loot the kitchen for midnight snacks.

when she looks at you, she really looks at you.

always makes sure to make you feel you have her full attention.

loyal to a fault. she will stand by you until the very end and she'll do the same with what she believes in.

you both have a soft spot for the younger black brother regulus and make it your personal mission to befriend him.

“he always looks so sad y/n, his eyes hold so much pain.. is he okay? i mean obviously not, but is he good?”

like the gryffindor she is, she finally takes up the courage and approaches him, with you at her side.

taking the right approach being slow and letting him set the pace.

you three slowly become friends, even though you have a closer connection to him than dorcas.

his smile was something remarkably extraordinary to you bc you had not seen him reveal much emotion since the very beginning.

it feels as if some deeper connection has been established now - a closer one and it made you return his smile.

right now, the world seems okay. every moment, you love and support the people close to you.

⊱ ──── ˗ˏˋ✧*♡*✧´ˎ˗ ────⊰

for the lovely @chishiyas-backstory ! 💫✨

thank you for your request. it was a genuine pleasure to write this for you!!

[lifeofresulullah]

The Life of The Prophet Muhammad(pbuh): First Migration, the Year of Sorrow, the Splitting of the Moon

Boycott Against Muslims

It was 617 AD, the seventh year of the prophethood.

Until this date, all of the polytheists’ attempts to thwart Islam’s development had failed. Moreover, Islam was developing at a quicker pace. The number of Muslims was increasing daily despite the presence of all kinds of violence and resistance. In fact, the light of Islam was beginning to embrace the tribes outside of Mecca.

Heroes like Hazrat Umar and Hazrat Hamza had joined the ranks of the Muslims. Hazrat Umar completely changed from his prior state by striving in the way of Islam with all of his strength and rigor and as a result became Islam’s right hand man. While this situation provided courage and morale for the Muslims, it greatly rocked the polytheists and caused them to think deeply.

On the other hand, Qurayshi polytheists could not retrieve the Muslims that took refuge in the land of the Negus. Ashama, the King of Abyssinia, did not only refuse to give them back but he also promised that he would protect them.  

This forced and compelled the polytheists to make new plans and decisions.

The polytheists understood that torture and violence would not cause anyone to abandon his/her religion and they could not hinder Islam’s spreading and development. How was it that not one Muslim denounced his/her religion despite all the torture and cruelty they faced!

In that case, they had to implement different policies and that was what they did. They came together immediately. After thinking deeply and consulting with one another for a while, they decided to cut off all of their ties with the Sons of Hashim regardless of whether or not they were Muslims.

They wrote down the conditions of this decision that they had all agreed on together as follows:

1)      They would not wed any women from the Sons of Hashim and Muttalib.

2)      They would not give any women to the Sons of Hashim and Muttalib to wed.

3)      They would not sell anything to the Sons of Hashim and Muttalib.

4)      They would not purchase anything from the Sons of Hashim and Muttalib. 

They thought that hanging this agreement, which was written on a sheet of paper, on one of the Kaaba’s walls would attach a tenor of holiness. Furthermore, they swore they would not act against this agreement. 

This boycott was aimed at eliminating the Sons of Hashim and Muttalib and excavating their roots. In this situation, the families of the Sons of Hashim and Muttalib could no longer live in separate cities or scattered from one another. With the exception of Abu Lahab, the Sons of Hashim and Muttalib all moved to Shib (District) Abu Talib, which was located in the northern part of Mecca. 

The polytheists cut off all of their ties with the residents of this neighborhood. Those who went there by accident were badly scolded.

The polytheists did not allow any food or drink to enter this area. They only allowed the Muslims to leave during the time of Hajj (the pilgrimage) to go shopping, but this was only a façade. It was a façade since they would follow them and attempt to hinder them in all kinds of ways from purchasing anything. In fact, they would occasionally threaten the merchants to prevent them from selling anything to the Muslims. Sometimes, they would apply all sorts of schemes and tricks to seize the merchants’ goods so that nothing would be left for the victims of this cruel boycott to purchase.

Despite the fact that Abu Lahab was from among the Sons of Hashim, he openly wanted his own siblings, kinsfolk, and relatives to die from starvation and did everything he could in this matter. On the outskirts of the city, he would greet the caravans carrying food to Mecca by saying, “Oh merchants! Do not sell anything to the Sons of Hashim! Make your prices high so that they cannot purchase anything from you. You know that I am wealthy. Whenever I make a promise, I will always be sure to fulfill it. Raise the prices of your edible and wearable goods. I will purchase remaining goods!” He caused the Muslims to go home empty-handed to their children who screamed out of hunger.  The polytheists’ ears and hearts were plugged in the face of the heartbreaking and sorrowful screams of the hungry children.  

They derived unparalleled pleasure from hearing these screams that had the potential to shatter stones. This is a lesson-filled example as to how disbelief, denial, and blasphemy can make people merciless and cruel even against their fellow humans.

Those who were subjected to this boycott were left to face a harsh scarcity and endure starvation since they were not able to purchase anything. This situation was so extreme that some began to eat leaves when they were unable to find anything else as well as any dry leather pieces they could find to roast over an open fire.

However, there were still some who felt compassion for the Muslims. One day, the son of Hazrat Khadija’s brother, Hakim bin Hizam, tried to save his aunt, Hazrat Khadija from despair by sending a camel load of flour.

On another occasion, he loaded wheat on the back of his slave to take to his aunt. He set off on the road with his slave and coincidentally bumped into Abu Jahl on the way.

Abu Jahl said to him, “You are taking groceries to the Sons of Hashim, is that right? By God, you cannot go. If you attempt to go then I will disclose this action of yours to all of Meccans and humiliate you.”

At that moment, Abu’l Bahtari came and chided Abu Jahl, “What’s happening to you? It is not right to hinder a person from taking some flour to his aunt.”

However, Abu Jahil did not forgo his stubbornness and persistence. Upon this, he engaged in a physical fight with Abu’l Bahtari. Abu’l Bahtari wounded his head with the bone of a camel’s chin and then later pounced on Abu Jahil while punching him.

Hisham bin Amr bin Harith was someone else who did not withhold his help from the Sons of Hashim and the Muslims out of his feelings of kinship. He had taken food with his camels to Shib a few times without the polytheists knowing.

They Spend their Wealth

Followed by Abu Talib and Hazrat Khadijah, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) was the first to spend his belongings to fulfill the needs of those who were subjected to this boycott. Nonetheless, they still could not save them from starvation.

A frightening state of hunger reigned in Shib.

Why was this all being done?

For only one thing: to make our Holy Prophet (PBUH) surrender.

The polytheists thought they could reach their goal in this way; however, the situation turned out to be different from what they had expected and hoped. The Muslims and the Sons of Hashim were immensely careful in guarding our Holy Prophet (PBUH) against any possible dangers. In fact, Abu Talib took our Holy Prophet (PBUH) by his side at nighttime or had others guard him by virtue of the possibility that our Holy Prophet (PBUH) could be assassinated.

This boycott that began in 617, the seventh year of the prophethood, at the beginning of the month of Muharram went on for three years. The starvation, despair, and famine the polytheists put the Muslims through could not hinder Islam’s development. Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) continued to duly deliver the message he had been appointed with and did not stop teaching Islam to his relatives and the Sons of Hashim for the slightest moment.

The Boycott was Lifted

It was the third year of the boycott.

Allah set a worm to go eat the sheet that the polytheists had hung on the Kaaba’s wall and notified His Messenger (PBUH) of this situation through a revelation. Only the writing, “Bismika Allahuma” (Allah, I begin with your name) remained on the sheet.

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) explained the situation to his uncle, Abu Talib. Upon this, Abu Talib went to the polytheists and made the following offer:

“According to the news that my brother’s son has brought, Allah set a worm on the paper that you had hung on the Kaaba’s wall and this worm ate everything on this paper-your terms of cruelty, cutting ties with relatives, and slander, except for the expression regarding Allah’s name. Go to the Kaaba and look at the sheet. If what I am saying is true, then forgo your cruelty and bad treatment of the Muslims. If he has, may Allah forgive me for saying this, lied, then I will surrender him to you. You are free to kill or keep him alive.” 

The polytheists went to the Kaaba and saw the situation exactly as Abu Talib described. Despite being amazed, they did not accept our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) miracle and turned their eyes away from the light.

This circumstance slightly lessened the intensity of this boycott. In 619 AD, when a few reputable people came forth, this practice, which stemmed from disbelief and a boundless level of stubbornness, was lifted. The community heard that this agreement had now been abolished; thus, they ripped and threw away the sheet containing the boycott’s terms.

In this way, the polytheists were turning away from the heresy and cruelty they had characterized as “an irrevocable decision.” This openly declared the victory of faith over disbelief once more.

The three-year blockade was so harsh and grueling that our Holy Prophet (PBUH) never forgot this situation even after the passing of many years. When the time came for Muslims to conquer Mecca and as they were going toward the city from Mina, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) reminded his companions of those difficult days by saying, “InshAllah (By Allah), the place that we are going tomorrow, the homeland of the Sons of Kinana, that is Muhassab, where the Qurayshis and sons of Kinana had agreed on unbelief and denial"

[sestra-inestro]

Buried Alive

Summary: Your squad was ambushed on a mission and you are held hostage, buried alive in a box in the middle of nowhere with a phone. Will the team be able to get to you in time?

Notes: Inspired by Ryan Reynolds movie Buried. Not at all ment to target any Arabic, Muslim or any other religion or nationality that has ever or will be associated with terrorism or stereotyped. I have replaced the terrorists labeled in the movie with an unspecified nationality/religion.

Warnings: being buried alive, near death, mentions of terrorism.

Pairings: Bucky x reader

You woke with a gasp. Darkness surrounded you as you gasped for air.

Where am I? What’s happening?

You raised your hands to feel a wooden board stopping you from moving any further. You start panicking as you try to move you legs, only to feel them also be forced to stop by more wood.

“Hello?” You yelled, seeing if anyone would answer you. “Hello?!” You yelled louder.

Your chest heaves as you panic even more. What was happening? You don’t know how you got there or who put you in a box.

You suddenly heard a vibration rumble through the box you were in. You scramble to find the source and you reach passed your leg to feel a solid form buzzing in your hand.

You held it in your fist and lifted it to your face to see an old phone. The screen flashed at you and an unknown word showed on the screen. You frowned and slowed your breathing. You pressed the green phone button and put it to your ear.

“Hello?” You rush out as soon as you answered. “Hello? Please help me.”

“Hello, Ms June.” A males voice said through the speaker.

“Who is this?” You growled into the phone. “This isn’t funny.”

“It most certainly is not a joke.” The man said. “Listen carefully, I will not repeat.”

You stayed silent and breathed heavily as you listened and sat in the darkness. “One hundred million dollars before midnight or we will leave you to die.”

“How do you expect me to get you one hundred million dollars in a box?!” You raised your voice.

“Before midnight, Ms June. Or you will pay with your life.” The man said before hanging up.

You groan and resumed to your panicking. You raked your brain of solutions. Until one name popped into your head.

~

Tony was sitting quietly in the conference room as Steve gave a briefing of the next mission. His phone decided to announce its presence as it rang through the air.

Everyone turned to look at Tony as he lifted his phone to see who it was. Unknown number. He pressed decline and sighed. “Sorry, continue.” He said.

Steve carried on with the briefing before Tony’s phone rang again.

“Tony,” Steve said.

“I know, I know, sorry.” Tony stood and looked at his phone again. It’s Unknown again.

Tony stepped out of the room and answered the call. “Baskin Robbins.”

“Tony.” Your voice breathed through the receiver.

“June, what’s wrong.” Tony frowned. You sound panicked.

“Tony I need help I’m in trouble. I think I’ve been buried alive.” You rushed out.

“What?” Tony asked shocked.

“I’m in a box, Tony!” You yelled at him. “And the guy who put me here wants one hundred million dollars before midnight! Tony I’m going to die.”

Tony turned quickly and rushed back into the room. “June just stay calm.”

“What’s going on?” Steve asked Tony as he rushed into the room.

Tony threw the phone on the table and connected it to speaker.

“Tony I don’t have time, they are going to leave me to die!” Your voice screamed through the speaker and at the rest of the team.

“June?” Bucky stood up as he heard your voice.

“Buck, I need help.” You breathed out.

“It’s okay, just tell us where you are right now.” Tony began to try to trace your call.

“I don’t know!” You cried. “I’m in a box in the ground, I don’t know where I am!”

You were beginning to become hysterical.

“June, you need to calm down so we can understand you.” Steve tried to calm you.

“They want one hundred million dollars.” You took a deep breath.

“Who does?” Tony asked.

“I don’t know, the guy who attacked us.” You said, and then gasped. “My mission in Luxor.”

“What happened? You were attacked?” Tony asked and he looked through Egypt’s landmarks.

“We were ambushed. They shot all of my squad and must’ve knocked me out.” You rushed. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “Please help me.”

“Don’t worry, June, we are closing in on your location and we are getting on the Quinjet now.” Tony said as he picked up the phone and left the room. The entire team following.

~

You waited in the box. The phone light allowing you to see the inside of the box you were in. The phone buzzed and showed the same unknow name from before.

You answered and shoved it to your ear. “Listen you piece of shit. Don’t think you are getting anything out of me.” You breathed out.

“It’s not you we want it from, but we will take it if we have to.” The man said. “Can you still breathe in there?”

“You can bet your sorry ass I will find you when I get out of here.” You growled through the phone.

“So be it.” He hung up.

A massive explosion rattled the box and the ground above you. The box split and sand started to pour in.

You yelped as sand started to collect at your feet. Your fingers danced across the phone buttons as you contacted the team. It was answered quickly.

“Doll, we heard the explosion. Are you okay?” Bucky answered and rushed.

“Bucky, the box is broken. Sand is coming in.” You breathed out, trying to breathe steadily.

“We are very close, doll. We are gonna get to you don’t worry.” Bucky reassured you.

“Stay with us June.” Tony yelled to you. “We are closing in on your location.”

“Please, hurry.” You muttered, taking deep breaths. The sand closing up the space in the box and causing pressure to push on your chest.

“We’re coming, baby doll.” Bucky’s voice sounded close as he spoke into the receiver.

“I can’t breathe.” You started to gasp.

“Hold on, doll. Just hold on for me. Please.” Bucky begged. “We are landing now! Coming to you, stay with me.”

“Okay.” You gasped out. Your eyes fluttered as the air began to thin.

The sand was rising quickly and was blanketing your shoulders now. It had made its way underneath you and your forehead and nose was pressed against the top of the box. You were still gasping for air but it was slowing.

You heard digging from above you.

“I can hear you!” You cried out. “I can hear you!”

You were crying out and becoming hysterical once again.

“June!” You heard them call out from above you and over the phone. The sand filled to your hair and was now surrounding your face.

“Hey!” You called through the box and started pounding against the box. “I can hear you!” You smiled and cried.

You could hear scuffling from far above you. They were coming for you. The sand had covered your eyes and was climbing your nose. You took a deep breath and allowed the sand to swallow your body.

Your head was feeling dizzy and your lungs screamed for air. You heard banging and roaring from above you. The sound of wood breaking and being torn from nails. Hands grasped you and pulled you back to air.

You opened your mouth and gasped for air and your lungs burned. You coughed as your throat stung from the grains of sand mixed with oxygen, making you feel like you were breathing razor blades.

Arms were touching and pulling you out of the sand but you couldn’t hear anyone. A ringing sliced through your eardrums and you had yet to open your eyes.

You were pulled to stand up and you felt the sand leave your body. A cool breeze brushed against your skin, which invited you to open your eyes.

You saw the many worried faces of your team mates and the desert. You were in a ditch that almost reached your shoulders and your lips felt chapped.

Bucky’s worried head filled your vision as he spoke to you. His voice slowly came clear to your ears and so did your emotions to your chest.

The tears sprung from your eyes and you leant into his chest. His arms instantly wrapped around you as he held your shaky body.

“It’s okay, doll. I’ve got you now.” He mumbled into the top of your head. “Let’s get you home.”

[legionmaster001]

My second and maybe, just maybe last post, as editing in the Tmblur app is still hell. This one still goes for @bl00dalchemist​’s characters, wich I love and owe a ton of inspiration.

I insist that this is not the kind of story that fits with them. However, I seriusly need to do this right, for the demons, for the bastard himself.

Again, I hope you all enjoy it.

The Black Death

“A dense mist engulfed the portuary town of Sicily as a dirty withe chariot aproached from the Northside one fatidic morning of October. The horses that pulled it looked sick, with their whinny resounding through the souls of those who first saw them like the pleads of a dying men, the rhymt of their gallop confessed the bad omens they carried in tounges that no one could speak. The sun wasn’t coming out that day, as even it cowered to the darkness that acompained the chariot.

—Aye! Aye! —exclaimed the charioteer, coughing and whipping his horses with his famelic arms and an old wip.

The mist stopped as the chariot did, like if it were a simple passanger itself. Near the entrance of the town, under the few houses that went to the end of the town and a sign of putrefacted wood and worn out letters, the real passager got out, saying not a single word to the poor looking driver before giving him a fist of herbs and a small sheet of paper.

—I owe you my life, sir —claimed the charioter, thankful and trustful.

—You shall pay me soon, then… —whispered the young man as he turned around, willing to travel what path was left to his destination on foot.

Only the sound of footsteps and the clicking sound of a wooden cane could be heard, as the townsfolk that stayed in their homes and businesses observed the withe haired but young foreigner with suspicion and intrigue. The man, with his black clothes, stiff cane and leather bag, never stared back. He was the doctor that the town needed, and he wasn’t in humor to humilliate the peasants that day.

—Maybe it’s too late… —Wondered the Doctor, scratching his withe beard. 

Almost running through the streets he directed himslef to the city’s port, guided by no one. Promptly he arrived to the dock, where rotting carcasses of the hanged still moored with rope around their necks. Ships of all sizes slowly swung, exhibiting like the corpses of the condemned. But the one that was supposed to soon touch land was an emissary of death was about unload a terrible charge; a Plague. 

His superiors had heard about it long before, and terrified predicted a wave of death and decay so great that it might as well be the end of all men. A disease so terrible that made the greatest Imperium of the world quail, that cared not about the children of god, killing everyone in its path, and transformed the deserts of the East in black seas, making all the Crusades look like a simple bar fight, and leaving piles upon piles of corpses, tall enough to cover the light of the morning sun.

—He is here!

—It can’t be.

—Just in the right moment.

The people that had gathered among the docks welcomed the Doctor with most expectation and joy. The strange man was a light of hope in their eyes, as the dim light of the early sun was completely covered by the mist of the morning, that with the help of the cloud that the Doctor carried, claimed the town for themselves. 

—What is happening here, my friend? —Asked the Doctor to the nearest man, putting his best smile. However, fear started to grow inside him as he realized that he already knew what was the problem.

—Ships came, the mariners look so sick, we’d never seen something like that! —Answered the man with nothing but fear in his eyes.

The Doctor walked to the sick mariners, seemingly calm, with only a few corageous enough and the constant feeling of having the spirits of the hanged swirling in the mist, to accompany him. Dead flesh by fingers and tumors as big as apples adorning their necks; the mariners had what was soon to be known as the Black Death. Such sight deeply affected the Doctor, that feared they wouldn’t survive enough to be played with, and make the townsfolk help them arrive to a church. He had more important things to do in the main ship, and as so, giving the excuse of finding a cause to such an horrible illness, he went alone. The folk cheered such an heroic behavior, for the Doctor was about to enter the guts of the beast.

He wandered to the insides of the ship, slowly revealing his nature: skin gray as ashes of the dead, theet and claws sharp and short as daggers to eviscerate, a tail that moved elegantly over the ground, and horns long and curved in a beautiful but simple way, with black ends. The demon Doctor finally was free, as he both rejoiced and shivered at the results of the Black Death; mariners abandoned still alive, drowning in their own vomited blood, corpses filled to the brim with tumors, and at the end of it all, a rotten, destroyed last corpse of what seemed to be a rather small and young man roughly dressed as a Eastern Companion Lady. It was of a unnatural pinkish color, from hair to inners, including the skin. It’s odor was strangely sweet.

—Not even the rats would claim this one… —Said the Doctor, poking the rotten corpse with his cane, not impressed with the weirdness of the body. A expression of disgust was on his face.

—But you can, it’s not that expensive —answered the supposed corpse in a sweet tone, or at least the sweetest it could do with its vocal cords so damaged.

—What in the bloody name of lord Baal…?

The now somewhat alive youngster extended a tounge like a venomous serpent, wich slowly coiled around the Doctor’s cane in a unsuccessful attempt to look somewhat provocative. The Doctor looked at him with mistrust, as he didn’t want another demon on his lands, even less one that could put in risk his entire career. But something called the attention of the Doctor: the young, rotten, blighted and lustful demon had glittering eyes with a strange beauty on them. The Doctor stared at them, almost forggoting for what he was there. Something was deeply wrong with its irregular and dead green iris and yellow sclera, but it wasn’t any kind of magic.

—Who the hell are you and what is your business here? —Asked the Doctor as politely as his word enabled him to be, snapping out of his trance and pulling his cane out of the mouth of the living corpse, ripping its tounge— I just cleaned this thing…

—My name is Gillian, and I am a humble Satan’s servant like you —said Gillian after he grew another tounge— born in holy land like you, ended up in the west, where Lord Belcebub gave me his most recent toy. Really not my type, but kinky, I must admit.

—Go to the point —The Doctor was quickly losing his scarce patience.

—Whatever you say, big boy. I was taken by those called Mongols in an invasion, they used me and threw me to the walls of a city —Gillian stopped to whisper, curses or compliments, it didn’t matter to the Doctor —, and I came with the merchants that ran from the war, and here you have me. So, do you want me to…?

The Doctor interrupted Gillian, tapping the wooden planks with his cane. The smug and peaceful expression with wich he entered the ship was again in his face. He Scratched his beard again, meditating about the situation. Before speaking he put on a small pair of reading glasses.

—I want you to leave. Now! —Shouted the Doctor, clearly mad. Fur od the same grey of his skin slowly spreaded around his body as it grew taller and demonic in form— I can’t afford to lose all my potential patients because of your pestilence!

The horns of the Doctor were about to break the ceiling when a flame materialized between them, taking the form of a shining crown.

—You don’t sound like a doctor at all —said Gillian, carefree and rather relaxed, almost like if he enjoyed the anger proyected at him, and unable to see.

—I am, but I have no enough hands, nor patience to amputate all this people, it wouldn’t even be fun anymore —The Doctor turned around, ready to leave. The boy didn’t whort the risk of beign discovered that soon— I am not the only one that will get damaged by this situation, so is better if you swim back to the East.

—I will see what I can do, hotstuff, but, sure u’ don’t want some of this? —Gillian lifted his leg, showing off what was left of it before it fell, leaving nothing but a small pool of black mush.

—Never in my 1,369 years of life have I been so horrified…

—It is not the last time you’ll say that, I bet —Gillian chuckled.

Breathing deep the Doctor started to leave, thinking of ways to actually save some lifes before the plage started to get worse. His demonic form disipated with the mist of the outside, letting the sun light enter through the few holes in the ship and hit both demons.

—Anyway, before you leave, what is your name? —Asked Gillian, trying to slowly cralw.

—Kinto —Was the only answer.

Gillian stopped in his tracks, now looking at Kinto under the sun light, he knew the name, everyone did. Kinto was the demon that singlehandedly transformed part of the Holy Order of Knights of the Hospital of Saint John of Jerusalem from loyal and godfearing warriors to an encrazed cult that practiced surgery on the child of the christian and muslim alike in the chaos of the damned cruzades, and the demon who made his golden earrings from the crosses of the Templar fallen heroes. All despite of being all but a warrior demon.

One last time Kinto looked behind, to see the pink son of the wither, angrier than ever, not for his actions and indiference, but because he felt a kind of warmth that no scream, bloody murder or great payment had given to him, all when looking at those rotten, glittering eyes.

In that cold morning Kinto, the cruel image of the sadism dressed as men of medicine, the corruption of those to swore protect, cure and save, met both the factor and the person that would end his current life, and forever change his eternal one, just like the world itself”.

Omfg I realized how many errors of all kinds I commited. I am so sorry. I don’t feel like a Fan anymore.

For those to made it to the end despite it beign just a slightly improved version; a trillion thanks.

[lyricpoets]

Single and Loving It? Wallada bt. al-Mustakfi, Lizzo, and the Breakup Blast

The first line of Lizzo’s chart-topping ode to making better choices, “Truth Hurts,” can be taken a few ways. “Why men great ‘til they gotta be great?” could relate to having the boldness to, as a subsequent line suggests, tell women the truth about their feelings in relationships rather than cowering behind text messages and vagaries. It could also mean that men are great until they get ideas of grandeur in their heads, and want to find grass they perceive to be greener. In either case, with this one line Lizzo puts all would-be lovers on blast for their fickle natures. By contrast, the artist presents herself as an assertive, emotionally in-touch, and self-assured catch, after all, as she says, “you coulda had a bad bitch.” In framing her iconic breakup song in this way, Lizzo follows a trend of styling a song about lost love as one of found singleness, which brings a woman freedom and confidence, rather than the wallowing and whiny, self-blaming breakup ballads of crooners past and present—think Beyoncé’s “Irreplaceable” vs. Beyoncé’s “Love Drought.” Instead of a breakup ballad, I prefer to call pieces like Lizzo’s a breakup blast—one last callout to call attention to the fine, fine woman that some idiot has given up. It’s an exuberant “fuck you” along the lines of elaborate job resignations or, if you’re a boring academic type who gets thrills from strongly worded letters, “quitlit.” And, as it turns out, this trend has a long history.

I’ve discussed women’s poetry in Classical Arabic on this blog before, and in particular, the fact that women in the pre- and early Islamic periods were often expected to compose only within certain, highly ritualized genres such as the rithā’, or mourning verse. Such poems have been looked at by scholars as instigating male action: women would mourn the fallen and call for vengeance against their killers, which men would then go exact. Even works not on this pattern, such as women’s war poetry, at times fall into this trope of the feminine voice as a catalyst for male movement, as with Hind bt. ‘Utbah’s famed poem about the women of the Ṭāriq tribe refusing their lovers’ embraces unless they succeed in battle—a sort of reverse-Lysistrata. Love poetry composed by women, meanwhile, is relatively sparse in the early Islamic period except in the most rarefied halls of high society, with courtesans composing amorous poems for their patrons that, once again, would have instigated male ardor and—ideally—lavish generosity. The call-and-response dynamic of women’s verse tailored to evoke men’s reactions is not merely an invention modern Orientalist or misogynist interpretations that want to view Arabic-speaking women of the past as submissive or impotent (though it surely has been abused to reach such conclusions). Rather, they are products of social hierarchies and modes of female exchange that flourished in order to navigate the power structures innate to their realities. Ritual mourning, pre-battle poetry exchanges, and mixed-gender courtly salons were all commonplace institutions with well-known rules, and as such they provided occasions for the relatively public communication of carefully constructed messages between differently gendered subjects.

A particularly exceptional figure to arise was Wallāda bt. al-Mustakfī, a Spanish Umayyad royal born at the end of the 10th/beginning of the 11th century. Not only did Wallāda compose poems about her lovers—and in particular her on-and-off-again flame, the famed poet Ibn Zaydūn—but she also often wrote not with the aim of impelling a male response but of preventing one. That’s right, Wallāda was a master of breakup verse, or, more appropriately, the breakup blast. Some of her most sparkling verses are, in effect, cease and desist orders issued to Ibn Zaydūn because he has slighted her in some way, or simply because she’s bored with him. It seems only fitting to pair Wallāda with Lizzo, not least because of the ongoing success both have enjoyed. In fact, much of what is commonly known about Wallāda is blown up to larger-than-life proportions—she has become a feminist figure of some renown, known as an irreverent Muslim Spanish princess who, according to some accounts, would walk around scantily clad before all the courtiers on a lark. However, it is essential to keep in mind that most of these impressions are derived from either her own poems or Ibn Zaydūn’s verses about her, which are often filtered through an amorous and emboldened male lens which may feature no small fraction of exaggerated boast or bathos, as when he exclaims “If my night grows long without you, how I’ll complain over having cut short a night with you!” Muslim biographers offer some facts about Wallāda in accounts of her life, but their reports are at times stitched together with connective tissue used to make her poetry fit a continuous narrative of her relationship with Ibn Zaydūn. In other words, there is a lot of room for imaginary thinking even in the medieval sources, to say nothing of modern feminist readings. So, to give Wallāda her proper due, let’s start with what we can know about her and her context before diving in to her works.

Wallāda bt. al-Mustakfī

^N.B. this is an Orientalist-as-shit painting by Frank Bernard Dicksee and we. have. no. clue. if our girl looked like this. But good Lord, those textiles! That freaking leopard skin in the background!

Before we proceed, it’s worth noting that one of the reasons that the annals of history have preserved so much of Wallāda was the remarkable fact of her elite social station: as a woman of noble birth, her words were inevitably valued as more precious, as well as refined and shaped by the education to which she had access. Often, collections of woman poets from the medieval period are peopled with a figure analogous to Wallāda in access to court culture, but far removed from her in degree of freedom, namely, the slave concubines of the upper-crust. These “singing slave girls,” or qiyān, occasionally attained great heights of renown for their witty repartee and their amorous effects on the people who owned them. Long before these women became courtesans, they were given training in arts and language. Kristina Richardson notes that qiyān were “typically purchased as children,” and the surest way to secure their position in the court was not through their literary practice, but rather through bearing children to their owners—their issue was born free, ensured that their mother would not be sold into another family, and guaranteed her eventual manumission once her owner expired. In his recent book, Slavery & Islam, Jonathan Brown uses the case of the caliphal consort ‘Arīb—poet, musician, and much lauded romantic interest of a variety of ‘Abbasid potentates—to illustrate that there were scenarios of elite slavery in the Islamic world that afforded one great visibility and admiration. Though Brown acknowledges that these women led “challenging lives,” he adds that the most successful among them were “protagonists in the epics spun around them,” and earned commemoration in the works of other elite, free male litterateurs.

All of this is argued by way of perturbing what Brown imagines his readers think of when they think of “slavery”—an unfree and permanent social underclass without freedom of movement or the forms of social and material access that these courtesans seem to have had in abundance—but it is worth noting that elite slave-concubinage is hardly an institution unique to Islamic societies. Moreover, it was hardly an enviable position in comparison to that of Wallāda, who was simultaneously plugged into courtly life and insulated from some of its most dangerous intrigues by dint of her position as a daughter of the caliph Muḥammad III. In other words, Wallāda was sitting pretty by comparison. Where court concubines were subordinated to both caliphs and their brides, Wallāda could enjoy the eventual prospect of wedding someone of her station, not being groomed as a proprietary mark of her lover’s prestige. Though marriage was often articulated as ownership in Islamic law (with a wife, like a slave, being milk al-yamīn), Wallāda’s poetry, in which she repeatedly brags of her free choice of suitor, shows that this dynamic was not absolute. In her writings on trysts with Ibn Zaydūn, it’s clear she does not feel she owes him anything--sex, children, emotional consistency...

Most importantly, Wallāda’s poetic utterances are enshrined not because she rose through the ranks and plotted carefully to bend the ears of those around her, but because she was already even from birth a prominent enough figure that her silver tongue was well-placed to be exercised and noticed. Unlike with ‘Arīb—who once fled an owner that she could not tolerate and, when about to be beaten for doing so, supposedly screamed “I am ‘Arib, and if I am owned, then he must sell me. If I am free, he shall have no way with me.”—when Wallāda laments that love is her enslaver, saying, “the nights march on without me seeing separation’s end/nor any emancipator from desire’s bondage,” she is speaking purely from metaphor. Moreover, when she rages against Ibn Zaydūn for havinga fling with one of Wallāda’s own maids—herself a slave woman ensconced in an elite household—she could still vaunt her class over her competitor by referring to the woman as her property (jāriyatī, “my servant”) and saying “You’ve left a fruiting branch in all its beauty/And inclined toward a barren branch,” with fruitfulness suggesting Wallāda’s wealth and breeding.

^For more on ‘Arīb, and for sheer delight, READ THIS. DO IT.

Even by the standards of her time, both literary and socio-cultural, Wallāda seems to have taken more liberties in her relationship with Ibn Zaydūn than was conventional: she names him openly in her poems, mocks his body, and airs his sexual proclivities. Wallāda was to be one of the last of her line to enjoy quite this degree of leniency and luxury, as the caliphate of the Spanish Umayyads was to end during her lifetime—when Wallāda was nearly 30 years old, civil war fractured al-Andalus into a series of ta’ifa states run by local nobilities, and Umayyad sovereignty came to an end.

^Umayyad sovereignty be like...

Wallāda’s poetic works, while ostensibly controversial, are represented in the biography of her found in al-Suyūṭī’s work Nuzhat al-Julasā’ fī Ash’ār al-Nisā’  simply as striking; she is said to be, “unique to her age, known in her era, an embellishment to assemblies and a grace to conversations.” Despite her supposed love of risqué outfits, including one garment with which the text opens—a tunic embroidered with her lines (with some translator liberty), “I am well-suited to finer things, and as I walk I sway/ I offer my cheek to a lover, and kiss their cravings away!” –al-Suyūṭī is sure to quickly follow by telling us of her “solicitousness and integrity.”  With this in mind, here are some of Wallāda’s choicer lines in which she’s breaking it off in her tempestuous fashion with Ibn Zaydūn:

Ibn Zaydūn has an anus that loves trouser staffs, Were it to spy a penis in a palm tree, It would become a bird [ṭayr abābīl] and flock to it!

And:

O, is there any way forward for us after this parting?

Lovers all around have long bewailed their fates.

Even in our winter visits, I remained inflamed, standing over passion’s embers. How, though I seemed to linger this way a while, Did the moment I feared so quickly come to pass? The nights march on without me seeing separation’s end, Nor any emancipator from desire’s bondage. God pours forth on the land you have departed Endless torrents of rain, rushing and flowing.

And, on the pain of loving him:

Wait until the shadows conceal our visit, For surely the night is good for secret trysts From you, I’ve experienced [such torment], If the sun felt this way, It would not shine The moon would not rise, And the stars would not traverse the skies.  

And just for fun, on a dude named al-Asbaḥī who she clearly didn’t like much:

O Asbaḥī, rejoice, for how many a luxury has God, enthroned, bestowed you? From your own son’s asshole you’ve gotten that which Cannot be acquired from the pussy of Būrān, al-Ḥasan’s daughter!

Between the first and second of these two short poems, we essentially see the two different sides of the breakup song dichotomy. In the second poem, we get the weepy (or, per Wallāda, torrential) emotional vulnerability of a woman writing her way through a breakup with a ballad—a studied melodrama featuring all the staples (“how did this happen?” “I kept loving you though you’d grown cold,” and “I still love you, ouch, it hurts”). In the first poem, we get a breakup blast—a heavy dose of mockery, a callout by name, and a heaping side-dish of “you’re not my type anyway,” colored deeply by the taboo of male bottoming. And, even when she’s in her more emotionally volatile state, Wallāda still plays the role of exhibitionist, repackaging what she herself acknowledges as the well-trod terrain of lovers’ complaints (fa-yashkū kull ṣabb bi-mā laqī), but imbuing it with her own style. In her poem about the pain of actually *being* in love, she stages her feelings on a cosmic plane.This poem was supposedly written, according to her biography, after she had been long rejecting Ibn Zaydūn’s visits and had decided to let him back into her bed. Even when Wallāda is in a relationship, it’s her emotions alone that reach beyond the stratosphere. If there’s way in which Wallāda and Lizzo are especially kindred, it’s this interest in the reversal and the subversion that can take a love song or a breakup ballad and place the woman at the center in intriguing ways, rather than focusing on her beloved.

Lizzo

Watch the video first, folks.

Before she got nominated for, like, 1 billion Grammys, Lizzo was Melissa Viviane Jefferson. Born in Detroit, MI, Lizzo grew up across a few different cities in the U.S. (Detroit, Huston, Minneapolis, and most recently, L.A.), and long knew she wanted a career in music. In college, she studied classical flute, and she often finds ways to incorporate that into her songs, live performances, and even into an iconic scene set in the backstage area of a strip club in the film “Hustlers.” Unlike Wallāda, who is an elite insider par excellence, Lizzo comes to the world of mainstream hip-hop from the outside: she’s not from money, she’s not from the industry, and her hobbies haven’t exactly been conventionally chic and on-trend, from her long commitment to marching band flute, anime, and writing fantasy stories, to her admission in her soulful EP track, “Coconut Oil,” “I remember back, back in school when I wasn’t cool/shit I still ain’t cool, but you better make some room for me.” Perhaps most prominently, she’s a plus-sized woman who loves to sing upbeat "bops” about loving yourself as you are. Lizzo has said before in interviews that she learned to love herself and her size a while back and that it wasn’t until body positivity went mainstream and the discourse caught up to her that her music really took off and started resonating with people. One New York Times article characterizes her music as “pure gospel,” and it does often feel like Lizzo is part preacher. She closed out her Tiny Desk Concert on NPR by saying, “I just want everyone to remember, if you can love me you can love yourself […] if you can love my big black ass at this tiny, tiny desk, you can love yourself. Can I get one more hallelujah?!” But where gospel tends to be characterized by reveling in certainty—in salvation, in God, in truth—there are many moments in her breakup songs where Lizzo revels in ambivalence and reversal. Take her hit “Jerome,” which made waves with her performance at the AMA’s, the song is structured as a crooning ballad, the sort of melancholy, juicy sound you might associate with Whitney Houson’s “I Will Always Love You,” or, more recently, Adele’s “Someone Like You,” yet the refrain goes “Jerome, take your ass home/ and come back when you’re grown.” Despite appearances, it’s not a meandering ode to lost or unrequited love so much as a wakeup call about a man who isn’t complicated or emotionally torn or broken, just disappointing. Another brilliant reversal comes in the music video for her most famous breakup blast, the chart-topping “Truth Hurts,” the first line of which (“I just took a DNA test, turns out, I’m 100% that bitch”) has resulted in some controversy over possible plagiarism, as well as an endless stream of cringe-worthy riffs, including Pete Buttigieg’s (please-clap-style) attempt at relatability here:

In the video (didn’t watch it yet? scroll up, come on now), Lizzo appears bedecked in a frilly wedding dress and flanked by bridesmaids clad in robin’s egg blue, a shirtless officiant in a bedazzled hat, a groom’s party, and—conspicuously—no groom. At the line “You tried to break my heart, well that breaks my heart, that you thought you ever had him but you ain’t from the start,” another woman in the assembled crowd stands up and begins voicing the words herself, as the verse’s tension builds (“hey I’m glad you’re back with your bitch, I mean who would wanna hide this…”) the camera moves between the two women—Lizzo and the guest—culminating with them both wagging their fingers at each other and saying the line “I will never ever ever ever ever be your side chick!” Where the term “side chick” seems to unambiguously label who is at the margins of a relationship, this clever camerawork shows that when two women are both being played in a relationship, each thinks of the other as the expendable, extraneous mistress.

This critique of the “side chick” concept and the intra-female competition it signifies it something Lizzo actively contests throughout the song by emphasizing bonds of female friendship instead; in the aftermath of her breakup, her friend takes her to the salon to wash the relationship away. After all, competition over a less-than-worthy guy not only draws fire away from failings of the man (who breaks up via text in the song for crying out loud!), but also, to quote Emily Gordon, often is simply a way for women to contend with the idea of their own selfhood by pitting ourselves against a “fun-house mirror that reflects an inaccurate version of who we are.” Wallāda is perhaps finding one such fun-house mirror in her servant with whom Ibn Zaydūn has a dalliance, as mentioned above. The full poem compares Wallāda as the brilliant, close-by full moon with the servant as remote, dim Jupiter even as it acknowledges the woman’s enchanting effect on her lover:

If you only shared the passion between us,

You wouldn’t have been charmed by my handmaid

You’ve left a fruiting branch in all its beauty

And inclined toward a barren branch

Surely you’ve come to know that I am the

Full-moon of the sky, but with Jupiter,

You’ve sparked distress in me.  

Meanwhile, Lizzo shows that she already has enough self-assurance and awareness to realize that she’s “100% that bitch,” even when she’s “crying crazy” in a spell of heartache, and moreover that she would rather be the player than be played. References to other prospects are strewn throughout the song, from “something more exciting,” to a “new man on the Minnesota Vikings,” to other guys “in my DMs.” Lizzo indicates that these relationships are transient, though, with the line “I put the sing in single, ain’t worried ‘bout a ring on my finger,” showing us that the most important thing after a breakup is not learning how to forgive, to support other women and recognize their pain, or even to love again in the conventional, coupled-off sense. Rather, the greatest achievement is to learn how to love and have a sustaining relationship with yourself.

With Wallāda, self-love trickles in here and there throughout her oeuvre, but it is often articulated as a function of her status (she is high-born, beautiful, etc.) and the power and allure this enables her to exert over men. Though the breakup blast may traverse times and regions, its open celebration of single womanhood—and especially single womanhood that isn’t depicted as something fleeting, an in-betweenness rather than an identity—is far less universal and historically commonplace. Indeed, it’s still something many are uncomfortable with today, though we may be on the precipice of a change in the United States. As Rebecca Traister writes in her book All the Single Ladies: Unmarried Women and the Rise of an Independent Nation, “Many women, unmarried into their thirties, living in geographic, religious, and socio-economic corners of the country where early marriage remains a norm, as well as many women who remain single less by choice than by circumstance, into their forties, fifties, and sixties, do not feel as though they are living in a new, singles-dominated world. They feel ostracized, pressured: they are challenged by family and peers. However, statistically, across the country, these women are not alone. Their numbers are growing by the year.” Lizzo, at 31, continues to live her self-loving, single truth (and has explained that she doesn’t seek relationships out of need, but rather out of want, because she’s still at base a “single-minded” individual)—a truth that is increasingly applicable for many of her listeners. Wallāda, who never wed, would perhaps find this a welcome shift.