#and then i unexpectedly became the best of friends with a ta from one of my classes and i love her she’s so great

[alxclaremont]

many thinky thoughts are being thinky thunk

[sweetcathedral]

🖤Hero Academia — Aizawa🖤

Note: I thought I’d post an old work here. Also, b/c I’m seeing a lot of minors migrate to ao3, I’m thinking of switching all my works to here since it’s easier to monitor, which means I’m deleting my ao3.

⚠️: bulge, breeding, somnophilia, cnc

He’s late. Just as you thought, but that’s expected of Pro Heroes and you can’t blame him for being one. You knowingly accepted your common law conditions, so you can’t complain. You reached for your phone hoping to see his name tangled within the notifications.

NekoZawa: late

Was the only message that caught your attention with a little bit of disappointment. Deep down you already knew it’d come to this, but you still can’t help feeling let down a bit. As you were about to change out of your getup a series of sharp knocks startled you, catching you off guard.

“It’s mee!” shouted the familiar voice.

Midnight?!

You rushed to open the door.

“Kayama? You’re ba—,”

“Ahhhh! So cute, so delicate, just youth!” she huffed in excitement at the sight of your longline lace bra and single-ruffled panties.

“Ah! Wai—youth? You know we're not that far in age,” you said, as you try to hide behind the door.

“Please, I'd kill to be 5 years younger, and don’t even try hiding from me. Even though he doesn’t care much about looks this definitely falls within his tastes,”

You blushed at the compliment, wishing it had come out of Aizawa’s mouth instead.

“Anyways,” she continued, “how about some bubble tea? I got your favourite,” she whipped out a bag of drinks from behind her. You wonder if she knew of your plans and came to cheer you up.

Who am I kidding, she’s an R-rated hero. Her sixth sense is basically her sex sense.

“Yeah, I could use some company,” you smiled in relief, thankful for her sharp intuition.

Before you knew it, 9PM became 11PM in what felt like 30 minutes and that heavy feeling weighing on your chest left after a couple of laughs here and there. You couldn’t help but feel better in the presence of Kayama, you have no choice but to feel better in her presence.

“And after I showed his class a pic of you, that grape idiot said ‘ if that raggedy ass man of a sensei is able to snatch a woman like that then there’s still hope for me, right?! Right?!’ in that stupid lisp of his! I couldn’t help, but cackle in his face! Hahahahahahahaha!”

“Grape idiot?!,” you laughed, almost choking on your tapioca.

“It caused this huge uproar which took Aizawa an hour to settle down,”

“Sounds like an exaggeration to me,”

“Really? Then I’d have to ask Principal Nezu for permission to let you visit. Hmmm, maybe a surprise visit during his birthday, I’d get to see that purple shit bleed from his eyes again. Hah!” she said, her sadistic side twinkling in her eyes.

You could tell she wasn’t lying about the surprise visit as she hummed her thoughts between sips of beer. Although you know how much Aizawa likes to keep his private life separate from his professional life, your thoughts couldn’t help but ponder in curiosity at how he acts around his infamous class 1-A students. All he ever does is complain about them every time you ask, but just thinking about him acting like the strict teacher Kayama says he is . . . makes . . . you . . .

“Oi, oooii . . . I said OI!”

“Gah!”

“What the hell’s got you blushing like a dazed mess?”

“Blushing? . . . !”

You clasp your hands over your face, as if you’re trying to keep your thoughts and daydreams from escaping. You let your imagination run wild just from thinking about Aizawa as a teacher — his strict demeanour and cold eyes piercing through you . . . his deep growls muffled at the base of your neck as his grip tightens around your waist and hair . . .

“Oh! What time is it?” Kayama exclaimed, disrupting your thoughts.

You reach for your phone to check the time, seeing 11:17PM illuminating from the screen before flipping it to Kayama.

“Perfect!”

You cock your head to the side trying to think of what could make Kayama that excited, but before you could react, her quirk had already taken hold of your consciousness.

Aizawa let out a heavy sigh staring at the time on his phone. It wasn’t the first time he’d let you down like that, even though it’s out of his control he still can’t help feeling disappointed in himself. Pro Heroes always have unpredictable schedules, but still, he’d wish his schedule had gone his way today.

“Thanks as always, Eraserhead. I’ll send the details your way once we’ve confirmed the date,” Tsukauchi reassured, dismissing him for the day. Aizawa nodded in response, finally, he thought. As he walked out of the station, his phone vibrated.

Ugh, what now?

He reached for his phone and unlocked his screen.

Kayama? Probably just more cat pics.

But much to his surprise, the series of pics caused him to stop in his tracks.

Kayama: Bon appétit! *kissy face*

Was the only message that followed at the end of the series of pics. After Kayama used her quirk to put you to sleep, she happily cleaned the place up and settled you prettily onto the bed in an innocent, but also, somewhat tempting position. Who could blame her? She had a knack for setting up tempting situations for her best friends. Aizawa tapped on each pic, examining the details of your delicate lace bra and fluttery panties. He really wished his schedule had gone his way today. The longer he stared at each pic, the bigger his temptation and pent up emotions grew — frustration, doubt, confusion, jealousy, anger, greed, love, lust, it was causing him to lose all sense of logic. You were causing him to lose all sense of logic and he hated it. It’s his first time experiencing something like this, he’d never romantically loved anyone until you came into his life. At first you were just like any other Pro Hero he teamed up with in previous missions, but the mission you two took on escalated into an emotional high profile case, which caused him to spend more time with you. One thing led to another and now, you’re each other’s common-law spouse. Both of you could care less about the huge wedding traditions of planning a wedding day, banquet halls, invitations and all that, but unexpectedly, he did buy you a wedding ring — a customized designer ring at that. Not only does he not care about appearances, but he also doesn’t seem to care about prices, so long as it serves its purpose.

“Uh, Eraserhead? Everything okay?” Officer Sansa tapped on Aizawa’s shoulder, breaking him from his thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, Detective Tsukauchi already settled on a date already?” Aizawa quickly locked his phone and tucked it back into his pocket.

“Um, no, he was actually worried about you . . . you’ve been standing still here for a while now, just staring at your phone . . .”

The logical Pro Hero himself didn’t even realize that he stopped walking and was surprised to see the station still behind him. Tch .

“. . . yeah, I think I should head home now. Someone’s waiting for me. Thanks, Officer Sansa.”

He waved at the cat officer before tucking his hand back into his pocket, unconsciously digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands in frustration. He hated this feeling . . . and he can’t wait to take it out on you .

Aizawa hesitates to open the door, unsure of how he’d react when he sees you for himself. He carefully turns the knob, making sure not to make a noise that’ll wake you from your peaceful slumber. You were just like the pics Kayama sent him — back exposed with the soft glow of the city night lights highlighting your dainty shoulder blades . . . arms clutching the pillow from underneath that pretty little head of yours . . . one leg hitched up to the side while the other was elongated and tucked half way into the sheets . . . As he reached to caress your face, he noticed his hand trembling from suppressing his temptation. Tch. He pulls his hand back in frustration.

“ . . . mmph . . . Shou . . . ta . . .” you murmured in your sleep in between heated breaths.

That was enough for Aizawa to let go of any sense of logic and common sense he had left, and before he knew it, he was hovering over you — the weight of his body sinking into the duvet. His eyes trailing over your features, watching your chest rise and fall with every breath you take — a reassuring feeling that you’re real and very much alive to him. He annoyingly hears his name from the teachers at UA all the time, but when it whispers out from between those pretty lips of yours, it made him experience a feeling he wasn’t used to controlling. He gave in, leaving trails of kisses that slowly turned into hickeys and then bite marks. He felt bad for leaving those marks on your supple skin, but he also wished they were permanent, as if the wedding ring doesn't speak for itself anymore. Aizawa’s grip tightened on your thigh at the thought of anyone else touching you, pinning your leg to your chest. His rough hand traces down your curves before slipping them in between your thighs — a wet sopping mess.

Ah, her panties are ruined . . . shame, he thought as he ripped a slit open, big enough for what you’re about to take in. Whoops . . . I’ll just get her a new one.

The temperature of your body was rising as he continued to press up against you, leaving marks on your collarbone and teasing your insides with his thick calloused fingers. A wave of pleasure ripples through your moonlight kissed skin, slowly pulling you back to your senses. You bat your eyes a few times to shake off the heaviness weighing on your eyelids.

“ . . . Shou—haa . . . !” your body twitched as another wave of pleasure came over you, shaking off your sleepy numbness, awakening your sense of touch as you grip his forearm trying to get him to slow down. It was no use given how enamoured he was with your reaction, your measly grip is as light as a feather against his strength.

“Haa . . . wait . . . slowdow—mmph!,”

Aizawa places his hand over your mouth, silencing your relentless begging. You finally noticed his flushed face and entranced eyes — a face you’re not used to seeing.

“Shut up, if you know what’s good for you,” his deep voice reverberated in your ear, sending a ripple of shivers down your neck. He was a completely different person in a completely different headspace. The only thing that can bring him back to his senses is your safe word, but you know that if you give in he’d completely stop and resist touching you for days as penance for losing control. But . . . you love it when he loses control along with his sense of logic, so you melt into your favourite position, signaling him to release all his pent up emotions in you — a mating press. You bite your trembling lower lip, begging with your wet eyes as a smirk played across his face. He gently kisses your forehead before pulling down his bottoms, revealing his thick throbbing cock. Your cunt twitched at the sight of it, squeezing out your fluids, dripping down like honey.

“How badly do you want it?”

“. . . badly . . . Shou~ta~ . . .” you cooed.

His cock twitched at the sound of your light and airy voice, precum drips onto the sheets.

“Not yet,” he said as he began stroking his cock on your clit, making sure not to let an inch slip inside you. The sensation drives you crazy as you whimper and whine for him to fill you up inside, desperately begging with your hips. But Aizawa’s firm grip on your thighs won’t let you, and keeps you from getting what you want. You miss the feeling of being bred full . His strokes were getting faster, his panting turning into growls. Your body tensed and toes curled as the feeling came closer, letting a desperate sigh escape from your mouth.

“Already? But I’m not done with you yet,” he playfully whispers in your ear before ramming himself inside you.

“Haa!” you yelped.

Your plump walls twitch at the sudden movement, tightening itself around his cock.

“That’s my good girl,” he chuckled, cockingly.

Tears well up in your eyes as you bite back your whimpering. He grabs your hand and firmly places it on your lower abdomen,

“Do you feel me? I’m right here.”

With your hand firmly placed on your stomach, you can feel his bulge every time he strokes his cock in you. He keeps it there, so that you have no choice but to feel it until the very end — up until his cum fills you up inside. His long strokes began to shorten, each stroke getting harder than the last and unable to hold in your pants and moans. Not only can you feel the warmth fill you up, but you can also feel his cock releasing globs of his milk from the bulge protruding from your lower abdomen. Your fingers dance around it making him twitch, his bruising grip tightening around your wrist.

“Fuck,” he grunts, looking down at the mess you both made.

Your cunt was swelling at the amount of cum it’s trying to keep from spilling, gushing out every time your sticky walls twitch. Before Aizawa was about to pull out, you grab his arm,

“Wait . . . not yet,” you must’ve been pouting when those words fell off of your swollen lips cause you’ve never seen his features soften like that before. He lowers himself, feeling his weight sinking into the bed as he tenderly kisses your forehead, brushing your slick baby hairs from your face . . . the warmth of his forehead resting against yours . . . the reassuring feeling of his hand gently cupping your flushed cheeks . . . You reach for his face, thumbing the scar under his eye, diving in for a deeper kiss and wrapping your arms around him. His heart begins to beat harder as you begin to feel his cock swelling up again from inside you.

[okimargarvez]

ABYSS- the Supreme sacrifice - Chapter 1

Original title: Abisso- il supremo sacrificio.

Prompt: mother’s love, kidnapping, distress, tragedy.

Warnings: mention of Character’ Death and rape, O.C..

Genre: angst, drama, action, romantic, family, friendship.

Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez, Derek Morgan, Savannah Hayes, O.C.

Pairing: Garvez, Morcia.

Note: multichapter.

Legend: 😘👓🔦🎈⚰.

Song mentioned: none.

Abyss- Masterlist

GARVEZ STORIES

Note: this is my real first Garvez (but even Morcia) fanfic. The song Slipped away by Avril Lavigne inspired me for the plot and the final. It’s a hard story, I talked about weighty topics, it’s not fluffy at all. If you think it’s better if I don’t post it here, please, tell me.

Chapter 1

The heart of a mother is a deep abyss at the bottom of which you will always find forgiveness. (Honoré de Balzac)

1- The germ

Every fiber of her body vibrates to that tenuous thought, but the woman is expert in pushing it away.

-Someone is very thoughtful tonight.- a voice says behind her, that causes a slight jolt.

-Ha ha, very funny.- she turns to him and smiles. It still seems impossible to think that only a few months before (well, a year now) she couldn’t even look at him in the face, because the calienti Latin traits were replaced by equally fascinating features, but much more painful. Too many similarities, if one was busy to see them. Both were handsome men, for whom all women dizzy and immediately stopped doing what occupied them at the time of the apparition, regardless of the importance of it. Both had something exotic and tasty.

And both (but this she can’t know) are attracted to her, an attraction that must be understood in the absolute sense of the term: an interest that, for someone, can lead to a deeper bond.

Something very similar is passing into the mind of the special agent Luke Alvez as he examines every detail of the woman in front of him. Blonde hair, slightly wavy, glasses that cover those spheres that are a direct mirror of her soul.

Derek is what he can read, printed in indelible characters. Derek Morgan, still present as a shadow that oppresses him, hides him. And he feels exactly like the second wife told by Hitchcock in Rebecca, so crushed by the first that she can’t even afford her own name, nor own personality. It wasn’t the first time he had to replace someone, indeed. Since he was a child he had been used to constant change, to the impossibility of making real friends, knowing full well that it would not last. Yet this had allowed him to have an elastic character, had developed in him an innate ability to forge relationships with people, at first glance, without too many turns of words and this had returned very useful in his work. So he had drawn the best from an unfavorable circumstance, which very often created children, then boys and then adults, unable to forge ties, to the constant search for a fixed point, which at the time when they lost it went into crisis and could become (also) serial killers like those who had to chase.

All this explained perfectly his attitude when, a year ago, he had been easily received by the whole team, consisting of a mix of different members, a super smart young boy, a blonde and a brunette (both not bad) that knows what they’re doing in more senses, a veteran and writer, a man with a severe appearance (it still hurts to think of him, although he has hardly had time to become attached to the big boss) which was then added an old acquaintance, a brunette also  interesting… in short, a beautiful variety that seemed to work as a Swiss mechanism, each had own place and made available their qualities and skills for the success of the mission, everyone seemed aware of the value of each other… yet despite having just lost a gear, they hadn’t shown particular anxiety in welcoming a new member. Everybody but one, the one that had immediately been more apart (although later, soon enough, he would have discovered that it was not a typical attitude of the girl in question): a shapely blonde in all the right places, quite eccentric in the way of dressing and also to furnish her own den. The computer technician Penelope Garcia. When he showed up she had barely looked at him and he, slightly aware of his charm, was disappointed. Even the other blonde, JJ, who wears wedding ring and as he would have learned later was busy, didn’t miss the opportunity to give him a look not really friendly, even if Luke had appeared more like a kind of verification to admission. Penelope had shaken his hand with difficulty and then had run out; during the discussion of the cases she did everything (in a way too obvious) to avoid being near him and when she was sending information while they were outside, never called his number.

If she had seemed a shy girl, he might have thought the opposite of what had been ruminating for months, or rather that the tech had a crush to the new guy. But he was not so stupid and then he had seen her with the others, even if almost practically hidden and the attitude was quite different from what she had with him. She laughed, joked, always smiled, made fun of them by calling them with affectionate nicknames and others that probably only they knew. Even Hotch didn’t seem to be immune to the rite and was called “boss” with militaristic meaning. In addition, avoid him didn’t consist in keeping her eyes down when they crossed mistakenly in the corridor together, indeed, the few times that their eyes met, Penelope was never the one who lowered gaze first, but her expression suggested a kind of hate, what hate couldn’t be because this feeling takes time to bloom like love, rather we could talk about unjustified antipathy.

Or at least it remained until he had decided to ask the remaining members of the profiler section of the BAU. Unexpectedly, it was the last arrival, Emily, to put an end to his “sufferings”, explaining that she wasn’t angry with him, that he could also be the pope, the president of the United States or even David Bowie (he would have understood those things only later), in any case Penelope hated his role or rather the fact that he had taken that role, that place, or that which was until recently of Derek Morgan. From here she had begun to tell a series of memories, interspersed with anecdotes of others, who in the meantime had added since there were no cases to examine. Fortunately, Agent Garcia was home sick. From the various fragments, Luke had painstakingly made a global picture and finally understood everything. Agent Morgan had been “the hero” par excellence, especially for Penelope. He had climbed into an ambulance and risked blow up to save the lives of many people, including his colleagues; he was able to overcome a personal trauma not unimportant (but what kind they hadn’t absolutely wanted to tell him) and derive the strength to continue his work. But above all, he had always worried about his “baby girl” (epithet that first made him turn up his nose), he had tried to protect from the evils that they fought together. At this point it had seemed obvious to him asking how long they had been together and everyone had looked at him with shocked faces, before bursting out laughing. -Never.- JJ had finally answered, and then she had added more quietly -at least not officially.- he had thus come to know the epilogue of the idyll: Morgan had found a woman who had put an end to his being a playboy, a wife and he had settled down, creating a new life, then his wife had been kidnapped and he had decided that his family would no more be been put at risk by his job. End.

From that moment it was him who had stopped try to have a friendly relationship with Penelope, because now that he knew, he had absolutely no idea how to exploit the information in his possession. In other words, the thought that she had avoided him through no fault of his own, but because she was obsessed with the idea of ​​someone who was no longer, it was something too difficult to overcome. The Fate, however, was put in the middle and so, to make it short, they had found themselves in a situation where there was no way to avoid each other and in the end, after spending an hour exchanging secret and challenging looks, Luke had exploded and told her that he had never intended to replace her marvelous Derek Morgan, so he had headed for the exit, contravening Prentiss’s orders, which became after the death of Hotch the new chief of the unit, since Rossi had refused and JJ or Spencer didn’t seem suitable. Penelope had taken a little too many seconds to get out of the catalepsy she had fallen into, but then, just in time, she had managed to come back to life to stop him. And she had simply apologized for behaving so unjustly with him. She hadn’t cried, nor begged him. In a calm voice, she limited himself to explaining the situation to him (unaware that he already knew the plot) and then she had kept silent, probably waiting for him to let off steam, telling her who knows what. Instead, Luke gave her a quiet smile and gently touched her shoulder in a friendly gesture, and then said, -Let’s do what we came here to do.-

From that time there were no more real problems between them. Their relationship had grown to the point of turning in mutual trust, even though she always seemed distant when they met out of work context, as if she were afraid of going too far … without either of them really knowing where they wanted to go. Every now and then, Luke had the impression that Penelope didn’t see him but his predecessor because it was painting on her face a strange expression of joyous melancholy, where the sad component eventually prevailed. And he couldn’t help but wait for her to return to the real world.

As in this exact moment.

-Penelope… are you there ?- he doesn’t call her with any particular appellation, even if sometimes he would like to. He’s afraid of what might happen, although they’ve known each other for over a year, and she once told him she’d talked to Derek, about his life in Chicago, his baby, apparently as if she had overcome her “problem”. But the reality is very different, and Luke knows it.

-Sorry…. I was thinking of something that I dreamed the other night…- seeing a strange nuance in the expression of him, she hastens to specify -not of that kind, maniac!- and she lets away a laugh that only some time ago she would never have had the courage to do, as if Derek had taken away from her the right to be happy without him. -It’s a fairly recurring dream, but nothing classic, like falling to infinity… it’s about- and as soon as Luke catches her expression he understands that she’s about to tell him something important, so he becomes more careful and involuntarily even closer. -A sudden awakening, I’m anguished, I feel that there is something wrong, but without knowing what it’s, then a sudden idea illuminates me. Where are my parents? Inside of me I know the answer and yet pass a few but still very long minutes before I can remember that it’s useless to get excited and wait for them, because they are… dead, when I was eighteen… I told you that already, or not?- he, who was absorbed and completely absorbed by her evocative ability, emerges from the water and shakes his head. -Ah…- moment of embarrassment. -There often happens to me to have… this nightmare, the worst thing are those seconds when I haven’t yet realized the truth, because combined with the anxiety of expectation, there is indissolubly a damn and useless hope… sorry, sorry if I have harassed you with this story… you’ll be tired, you just came back from an intense case … – he is about to reply that she has been engaged in it, but then he lets it go.

-Don’t apologize. I’m interested.- he would say I’m interested in you, but for now he only allowed himself to look at her closely, but not too much. Foreshortening.

The acute shrill breaks the apparent quiet of the evening.

-Love, could you go?- what at first glance would seem a classic and quiet phrase, conceals hidden subtests, which only a trained ear can grasp. The man snorts and, knowing he isn’t seen, unleashes his frustration on the cards he was previously filling out, throwing them into the air, while aware that he’ll have to fix everything on his return. But the momentary euphoria in doing a wrong act repays the further future effort. When he reaches the object of the call, it’s visible only a warm smile on his face.

-Hello, little one, Daddy’s love, how are you?- that little creature so defenseless is also his merit, but is still hard to convincing himself. Another cry, this time female, destroys the atmosphere of mild tranquility that had been created. He snorts again, then tries to pretend nothing is happened, but it seems that tonight nothing wants to give him respite.

-Derek! It’s your phone, could you come and pick up the phone?- he goes quickly towards the voice, throwing a last glance at the bundle wrapped in blankets. He doesn’t even imagine that a ghost of the past (yet still so present, although he has tried in vain to deny it) is going to make it shake forcefully. He takes the device from his wife’s hands and responds in his classic way.

-Morgan.- there is a moment of silence before he hears someone speak from the other end of the line.

-Derek, I… I hope not to bother you…- he is about to interrupt her. Emily. It’s not like her call so late, without a reason… And he immediately realizes everything. Even before the woman can pronounce what he fears. -I… I would not ask you if it wasn’t really necessary. You should… be able to come here… to Quantico.-

-Why?- he finally manages to ask.

-Garcia… Penelope was kidnapped.-

Here, exactly what I feared. How did I know it was about her? It’s… it’s been months since I can’t think about how strange it’s not to see her every morning, don’t joke with her on the phone. It’s more than a year that someone doesn’t call me chocolate thunder. I would have needed her so much, few months ago, since… it’s too hard to think about it. She would have helped me, she would have been able to say the right words… He doesn’t need Prentiss to talk to remember everything suddenly. Penelope has been kidnapped. My baby girl is in danger, right now she could be… I can’t even say it in my head. I have to… I have to pack, pack a bag, I have to tell Savannah… Savannah. -I’ll get there as fast as I can.- and put down the phone. The brunette woman stops doing what she was doing and turns to him.

-Derek, where you are going?-

-Savannah, Emily called me… Garcia has been kidnapped and they need me to go to Quantico.- he tries to use a tone as quiet as possible, while the wheels of his brain go to a thousand per hour, thinking about  where it’s going to go.

-But you’re no longer part of the team, you’re not longer a federal. What do you have to do? - already feels the frustration make its way in the body of the woman he should most want.

-I still have some knowledge, I know some things that can help…- he sees anger rise to her eyes and finally explode.

-You don’t really know anything! You are no longer a profiler. Morgan, listen to me. If you go there I…- he has no more time to waste and certainly has no patience to gently convince his half of the need for his intervention. Or perhaps he simply doesn’t have the courage to say what he really feels, and he knows that she is aware, but he is convinced that until it’s pronounced aloud, that reality can’t be materialized.

-Do not say it.- he comes out more like a threat than the supplication he originally intended to express. -Savannah, I have to go.- a significant pause -I love you.- he lays a very quick kiss on her cheek. He feels a pain in his chest as he looks at her, but it’s not because he told a lie. Love is much more complicated than what one would like to believe. Much more stratified and complex.

________________________________

TAGS: @arses21434 @kathy5654 @martinab26 @reidskitty13 @jenf42 @gracieeelizabeth27 @silviajajaja @smalliemichelle99 @charchampagne14 @thinitta   @myhollyhanna23 @garvezz  @shyladystudentfan @cosmicmelaninflower @avengerquake123vanuusims  @inlovewithgarvaz @the-ellen-stuff

[basicsofislam]

PROPHET MUHAMMAD (PBUH)’s BIOGRAPHY : The Expedition of Umrah.Part1

(Sixth year of the Migration, the month of Dhulqada / March 13, 628)

The Dream of the Prophet

One night, the Messenger of God saw in his dream that he and his Companions went to Makkah and circumambulated the Kaaba without any fear or worry, and that some of his friends shaved and others trimmed their hair.[ Ibn Hisham, Sirah, Vol. 3, p. 336. ]

When the Prophet told his Companions about his dream, they became very happy and excited. Six years had passed since the muhajirs had migrated to Madinah from Makkah. During those six years, many big and small incidents took place but they were still missing their homeland. They always dreamed of rejoining the land in which they were born and grew up. The land that they missed was not an ordinary place; it was the holy land in which the Kaaba was located and which they turned toward five times a day during the daily prayers.  

Therefore, the glad tiding of the Messenger of God, “You shall enter the Sacred Mosque!” was welcomed by the Muslims. They thought and expected that they would circumambulate the Kaaba that year.  

The Quran informs us about this dream of the Messenger of God.[ al-Fath, 27. ]

Setting off from Madinah

The Prophet appointed Abdullah b. Umm Maktum as his deputy in Madinah. He set off on Monday with two clothes of Yemen style. About one thousand and four hundred Muslims set off with him. There were also four women Companions. One of those women was Umm Sa­lama, one of the wives of the Prophet. Only two hundred Muslims had horses. They only had swords, which they always had when they travelled; the swords were in their sheaths. There were also seventy camels to be slaughtered.[ Ibn Hisham, ibid, Vol. 3, p. 322; Ibn Sa’d, Tabaqat, Vol. 2, p. 95; Halabi, Insanu’l-Uyun, Vol. 2, p. 690. ]

Hazrat Umar and Sa’d b. Ubada Express their Concern

The Prophet reached the place called Dhul-Hulayfa with his Companions.

Meanwhile, Hazrat Umar went to the presence of the Prophet and said, “O Messenger of God! Will you go to the land of the tribe that is in a state of war with you without weapons and horses? Shall we not take our weapons to fight them when necessary?”

The Messenger of God said, “My aim is to perform umrah; I do not want to carry weapons.” Thus, he stated that their intention was not fighting but performing umrah only; that is, visiting the Kaaba.  

Sa’d b. Ubada, one of the notables of Ansar, expressed the same concern:

“O Messenger of God! I wish we had our weapons with us. If we perceived any suspicious acts from them, we would attack them.”

The Prophet answered him in the same way: “I will not carry weapons. I set off with the intention of umrah only.”[ Tabari, Tarikh, Vol. 3, p. 72; Halabi, Insanu’l-Uyun, Vol. 2, p. 689. ]

Dhul-Hulayfa is the place of miqat; that is, entering ihram. The Prophet entered ihram after performing the noon prayer here. He had the seventy camels to be sacrificed marked.

Some of the Muslims also entered ihram there.

After performing the noon prayer, the Prophet turned toward the qiblah and uttered the talbiya: “Labbayk! “Labbayk! Allahumma Labbayk! Lab­bay­ka la sharika Laka Labbayk! Innal hamda wan’ni­ma­ta la­ka wa’l-mulka la sharika laka. (Here I am, O God, here I am. Here I am, You have no partner, here I am. Verily all praise and blessings are Yours, and all sovereignty, You have no partner.)”

This lofty voice gave the environment a luminous atmosphere. The Companions were very excited.

Before leaving Dhul-Hulayfa, the Messenger of God sent Busr b. Sufyan to Makkah to find out about the state of the polytheists and to tell Makkans why he was going to Makkah. Busr had come to Madinah to visit the Prophet. He was returning to Makkah with the Prophet upon his request.

The Decision of the Qurayshi Polytheists

The polytheists found out that the Prophet was coming to Makkah with a large group of Companions and made this decision: “Muhammad and his friends will not be allowed to enter Makkah” Therefore, they sent a group of cavalrymen consisting of two hundred people under the command of  Khalid b. Walid to the place called  Kurau’l-Ghamim. On the other hand, they gave a feast to the tribes of Ahabish in order to persuade them to help them in case of a clash.

Busr b. Sufyan, who had been sent to observe the state of the polytheists, returned and told the Prophet the definite decision of the polytheists and their efforts.

When the Messenger of God heard about it, he said, “Woe on the Qurayshis! They will be destroyed. Wars have already demolished them. I wish they had not prevented me from talking to other Arab tribes. If they defeat me, that is what they want. If God makes me defeat them, they will accept Islam all together if they wish. If they do not do so, it means they take the risk of fighting. Alas! Do the Qurayshi polytheists think they have a great power? By God, I will not stop fighting them until I make the religion that God sent dominant and superior and until my head is cut off my body.”[ Ibn Hisham, ibid, Vol. 3, p. 321. ]

The Prophet got very sorry when he heard that the Qurayshi polytheists were getting ready to prevent them. Even the fiercest enemies used to circumambulate the Kaaba together like brothers during the forbidden months. The polytheists did not use to prevent them. They wanted to prevent only the Prophet and the Muslims from visiting the Kaaba, which was an innocent, lofty, holy and righteous desire.

The Prophet Changes the Route

The intention of the Messenger of God was to visit the Kaaba only. Therefore, he did not want any clashes to occur. When he heard that a Qurayshi group of cavalrymen under the command of Khalid b. Walid had reached the place called Ghamim, he said to his Companions, “Khalid b. Walid is in the place called Ghamim with some cavalrymen to watch us. Therefore, follow the way on the right.” Thus, the Prophet changed the route of the Muslims and led them through another way. When Khalid b. Walid saw the Islamic army from a distance, he returned to Makkah to inform the Qurayshis about the situation.  

Consultation with the Companions

Upon those conditions, the Messenger of God wanted to evaluate the situation. He called the Companions and asked them about their views.

They said, “God and His Messenger know the best. We came here with the intention of umrah only. We did not come here to fight anyone; however, if they want to prevent us from performing umrah, we will definitely fight them.”

The Prophet became glad when he heard that his Companions were determined and said, “Then, walk in the name of God.”

The Muslims who had set off with the intention of an innocent and holy aim only, that is, visiting the Kaaba, started to walk toward Makkah and the Kaaba with takbirs and talbiyas.

Qaswa Suddenly Kneels

The Messenger of God was riding his camel called Qaswa. When, Qaswa reached the border of Makkah, she wanted to kneel. The Companions tried to prevent her from kneeling but Qaswa resisted them and knelt down without moving even one step. They tried to make her stand up but they could not.

Thereupon, the Prophet said, “She never used to kneel like that. However, the one that had prevented the elephant from entering Makkah once is preventing Qaswa now. I swear by God, in whose hand of power my life is, that I will accept what Qurayshis want no matter how hard they are, meaning the respect to the things that God forbids within the boundaries of Makkah.”[ Ibn Hisham, ibid, Vol. 3, p. 324; Ibn Sa’d, ibid, Vol. 2, p. 96. ]

Indeed, if Qaswa had not knelt down, the Muslims would have walked toward the Qurayshi polytheists, which could have started a clash.

However, the Muslims had their swords only. They were deprived of the other weapons. They were not very crowded. On the other hand, The Qurayshis had more weapons and they were more than the Muslims in number because the other tribes living around supported them.

Nevertheless, the Muslims would not avoid fighting. The Muslims who acted like one body could defeat the Qurayshis despite their number and lack of weapons with their courage and heroism and with the help of God. However, it would mean disrespect to the Kaaba. The Prophet and the Muslims never wanted something like that.

Besides, there were many Muslims, men and women, that were living in Makkah but that were concealing that they were Muslims. The Muslims of Madinah did not know them; it was possible that they could be killed during a clash.

Furthermore, it was possible that many Qurayshi notables would embrace Islam soon and would serve Islam and that they would bring up many good children.

These were some of the reasons behind the fact that Qaswa knelt down unexpectedly.

Qaswa, who did not stand up and walk despite all of the efforts of the Companions, stood up and started to walk when the Prophet asked her to stand. However, she did not walk toward the Qurayshis but the dry well at the end of the place called Hudaybiyah. Thereupon, the Prophet ordered the Muslims to settle there.[ Ibn Hisham, ibid, Vol. 3, p. 324. ]

[parakayeja]

New Year Message Hihi

Bien:

Hi baby! sa iba man ay worst year nila ang 2020 but for me it's the best year! kasi ito ang year na nakilala kita 🥺 kahit ang dami mang ups and downs we manage to survive all of that. Let us cherish what we've experienced this year and let it be our guidance this coming year. Bring it on 2021!

More kulitan, kamuritan, kiligan, tawanan, iyakan? (wag naman Hahaha iyakan sa sobrang saya pwede pa) with you my baby this 2021, alam mo namang gusto kita kasama sa lahat ng oras. More kita na din and hopefully, makapag travel narin tayo! 😊 Wish ko lang satin this year ay continue loving each other, mahalin pa natin ang isa't isa at patuloy parin tayo maging strong para sa lahat ng darating na challenges this year ay malampasan natin 😘

This is our first of many many many new years together! Sisiguraduhin kong mag kasama tayo next new year para naman maranasan ko ang new year kiss Hahaha!! 😂 I love you so so so much my baby 😘🤗💚💙 Happy New Year to you and to your family! lets get ittttt 2021!!

Diane:

May nakahanda din akong gantong message baby kaya lang hindi ko natapos kaya eto now ko pa lang tatapusin hahaha:

Happy new year bienson kong murit! Never expected that this year would turn out differently especially during these trying times. They say good things in life happen unexpectedly and spontaneously and true, isa ka sa mga magandang bagay na nangyari sakin ngayong taon. Was never really looking for love, lagi lang kami naglolokohan ni Pau every year kung kelan kami magkakajowa pero wala naman kaming ginagawa. But then you came. Just like any other end-user that we have, normal lang kami makipagtransact dahil its just pure business and no need for personal agendas. But out of all of them, you were the most thankful and thoughtful. Nakakatuwa dahil nakaka-appreciate ka. And that’s how I started to like you.

We never really started good, we both know that, it was a hard decision pero as we became fond of each other, the doubts began to turn into something deep and real. You are one of the greatest blessings I received this year and I may not be looking nor waiting for love to come but I surely am praying for it. You are my answered prayer baby.

It was a very hard year for me, you know that — physically, mentally and emotionally but you made it bearable. I found a friend in you na always down for me at isa yun sa pinakasasalamatan ko dahil pinaramdam mo sakin na hindi ako nagiisa sa lahat ng bagay. Naiiyak ako habang tinatype to dahil naalala ko ung gabing pinagusapan natin to hahaha thank you 🥺🥺 lagi lang din ako nandito for you alam mo yannn

We have a lot to learn and hindi natin maiiwasan one day na magaway, magkatampuhan o ano man pero sana isipin natin bakit tayo nandito. Sobrang mahal kita at di kita kayang mawala pa. And true baby, umpisa pa lang to ng marami nating mga taon pa at malay mo sa susunod na dekada, mag-asawa na tayo hahhahaa char. Natutuwa ako dahil meron tayong clear vision ng future at napaguusapan natin kiligs hahaha 😂

I promise you this year na magkakasama pa tayo madalas at may mga maccross na tayo sa bucket list natin, naniniwala akong malalagpasan natin ang mga challenges na darating dahil sisiw satin yan as long as have faith in each other. I love you so much baby. Thank you for this year, to more years together and forever yieee. 2021, ready na kami anuna 🥰🥰 i love you Chris Bienson Guintooo!!!

PS: pangarap ko din po yang new year’s kiss 😘 hihi mwa mwa thank u sinamahan mo ko magluto kahit tahimik ako madalas hahaha na-appreciate ko yun sobraaa. Samahan kita maglaba minsan 😂

Bien:

Baby!!! 🥺 nakakaspeechless talaga kapag nag long message ka kasi english nakaka-nosebleed ne Hahaha 🥺 tinalo mo ako ngayon ah ang haba nito 🥺 nakakaiyak pero all joke aside baby thank you for this sobrang naappreciate ko to sobrang nakakataba ng puso alam kong hindi ka talaga masyado nag lolong message but once na nag long message ka napakaganda parang tula kaya thank you my baby. I love you so much 🥺

Yes tama ka baby na we never started good, naalala mo yung mga gabing nag heaheart to heart talk tayo 🥺 lagi nating sinasabi ""kung maging tayo man" ganto ganyan, okay lang bang ganun, magiging issue to panigurado" ang daming doubts and napaka hirap man but we both decide na pag patuloy parin ito nakakaamaze lang kasi dun palang sa time na yun napaka tapang and solid nanatin parang alam natin magiging okay lang lahat. Hindi ko pa ito nasasabi sayo baby but hindi ko talaga plan to enter a relationship after the breakup, plan ko na ito before pa tayo mag kakilala. But then you came, sabi ko kay Lord, love will come unexpectedly po talaga no, hindi po mapipigilan. Kaya sabi ko sa sarili ko God's plan ito kaya sobrang thankful ako sakanya and sayo I'm very grateful to have you my baby, binigay ka ni Lord sakin and I will take care of you forever for the rest of my life.

It's really amazing and nakakatuwang balikan yung mga panahong nag sisimula palang tayo baby ne, late night/ weekend/ after work chats sa viber, binigyan kita ng maraming cookies, ginantihan mo naman ako ng pizza at Jco, pinapanuod mo sakin how to get away, nag sesend ka ng selfie para makita kung gano ka pula mukha nung umiinom ka (baby since na sinabi mo narin na jinudge mo ako dati na babaero ako sasabihin ko naman yung akin ne akala ko tanggera ka talaga dati mahilig uminom ganun kasi nakwekwento mo na parang lagi kayo umiinom ng mga ka officemates mo tas anong oras na nakakauwi, nag chichill, nag babar minsan pero ayaw mo dun kasi maingay, tas tumitikim ng vape, ayun medj naturn off ako pero hindi ka naman pala ganun ne bait yang baby ko na yan ih 😘), lagi kitang nireremind baka makalimutan mo susi sa pinto mo, salamin mo, payong mo kasi nakahoodie kalang pag lumalabas tas naulan ne, umiwas sa mga matatalim na bagay lagi kakasi nasusugat ne, sinamahang bumili ng bumbilya nung napundi ilaw mo sa condo, panahong umamin ako, nagheart to heart talk tayo, hindi nag usap ng one month, may mga panahong hindi talaga natin kinaya kaya nag uusap parin tayo, nag selos ako kay Marikina (ahh karita 🙄), nag sendan ng dots, nag paparinigan sa ig story, binigyan mo ako ng cake, "GL -D", binigyan mo ako ng coffee and yung jacket, lumipat ako dito, nag resume mag usap nung Sept 29, nag first I love you ka sakin na naiyak ako, binigyan kita ng minimalist cake, late night calls (hindi na chat yiieee), HINDI NA AKO DISPLAY! naalala ko rin yan yiieee, and ang dami pang iba! ang dami ko pang hindi nalagay pero di ba!! How amazing is that?! Kaya pag kwinento natin sa iba yung love story natin pang MMK sis! Hahaha wala lang sobrang naaamaze lang talaga ako how we started ang sarap balikan baby and it all happened in 2020! Starting from the bottom now we're here! eyyy! basta nag start lang tayo as a friends then naging best friends then ngayon lovers na yiiieee naaalala ko pa sinabi natin dati na magandang mag simula ang relationship as friends kasi magiging strong yung foundation nun and look us now! We're super strong! 💪 Hahaha

Wala na akong masabi kundi thank you, thank you kay Lord, thankful ako to have you, lagi mo ako pinapasaya. Proud na proud ako na sabihing meron akong katulad mo and sa relationship na to. And yes sisiguraduhin kong mag kakasama tayo ng madalas this year para marami tayong macross out sa bucket list! I love you so much my baby! Thank you din for this year! sa lahat ng panahong kasama kita sa up and downs. As always, I'm here for you. You'll be always my favorite and lagi naman akong sayo at akin kalang! I promise na I'll be more patient and understanding to you and mas mamahalin pa kita baby. 😘 To more years together and forever yiiiee kakilig nung nabasa ko to Hahaha 🥰 and hindi malabong ikasal na tayo in the next decade as long as we support each other para matupad agad natin mga goal natin sa family 🥰 I love you Edrianne Joy Escobal Asuncionnnnnn!!!! 😘😘😘 lets goooooo 2021!

[ladyvean]

STLV17

Stories and photos under a cut to save your dash.

Photo-op with Armin Shimerman.  Posting the crappy snapshot I grabbed with my old as hell phone because the scanner I was using makes everything REALLY dark.  @guljerry blinked, so he’s been cropped out of the photo.  But Mr. Shimerman was so kind.  Unfortunately for me, that kindness resulted in me smiling with my teeth, which I prefer not to do!  LOL

Since our photo got messed up, I asked Creation if we could do a reshoot, but the said Mr. Shimerman was too busy.  However, I ran into (read: politely interrupted him having coffee with friends) him, who said he would have been happy to reshoot had he been asked.  He graciously agreed to let me grab a snap of him with Jerry. 

Noticed a similar problem on the signage last year.  Get your shit together, Creation!  XD

One of the best things about the conventions is hanging out with like-minded people, and here are some of the best!  Two Garaks and a Damar - @guljerry, @galinaredreznikov, @doctorparmak (thanks for the cookies)!

Ira Steven Behr had an early morning panel, so decided to buy coffee for those of us who showed up instead.  I opted to have hot tea, since I don’t like coffee.

Hey, you want to be intimidated?  Have your photo taken with a former super model!  What the hell was I thinking?  Thank God I brought 6 inch wedges. 

Supposedly this is a raktajino.  If that is the case, I think there would have been a lot more stumbling around on Deep Space Nine. 

Me, unprepared as always, for a selfie (of sorts) with Ethan Phillips and @guljerry.  The lighting in the vendor's room does not lend itself to good photo taking, but whatever.  It's Ethan Phillips!  And he was charming and gracious and kind - not to mention funny!

I hated my photo with Jeffrey Combs (Mr. Re-Animator himself!) from last year so much that I redid it this year.  Curse of the flat hair continues, but still an improvement over last year.  Also, this man is a total dollbaby. 

Took this plaque I made to Jeffrey Combs for an autograph.  He looks at it and says, "Oh, it's so pretty! What is it?"  "It's Dominionese, Jeff.   It says 'fuck you and every clone of you.'" He about fell out of his chair laughing. 

Notice how Marc Alaimo is literally leaning away from me and into @guljerry? The power of Jerry’s cuteness.

A good find, purchased from the man himself - Max Grodenchik! 

So, the conversation at the autograph table went like this -

Casey (feeling the shirt):  Oh! Nice shirt!  Where did you get it? Me:  I designed it and my friend made it. Casey:  Excellent.  So, is that my first name? Me:  Oh no, honey.  No. Casey:  So, is it another character?  Like, two characters? Me:  No, Casey.  Yadik is Cardassian for Daddy. Casey (grinning and muttering):  Daddy Damar, Daddy Damar... [starts to sign the shirt at the bottom] Me:  No, Casey, Sign it here.  [points to heart] Casey: [meticulously signs name in heart and draws a little heart, then looks at me with a smile]  Who loves you?  Daddy loves you.

My dudes, I am SO not making that up. 

It took me three years to talk myself into getting a photo with Casey and my hair is flat.  They should really put a mirror up so you can check these things before the shoot.  He looks amazing though. You can’t really tell from this photo, but his shirt was unbuttoned and one could get a really prime view of that gorgeous rug of silver chest hair.

Those are all the photos I have, but there were so many awesome moments at the con, I’m sure I can’t even remember them all right now!  Here are a few:

· Robert Picardo remembering me from two years ago, saying it was nice to see me again, and saying I had pretty hair (I queened out on him SO hard two years ago - it was BAD)

· Finally getting an audio copy of Robert Picardo’s EMH book – from the man himself

· Ethan Phillips stealing my joke and being charming

· Ethan Phillips also being sweet and kind when I became unexpectedly emotional about what Voyager meant to me as a teenager in an abusive household and giving me a hug

· Singing Let’s Talk Dirty in Hawaiian with Steve Rankin and Vaughan Armstrong in the vendor’s room

· Talking animals and politics with JG Hertzler

· Talking about OCD with Max Grodenchik

· Thanking Terry Ferrell for publically saying Jadzia was pan and her thanking me for bringing it up and discussing how the symbiot transcends gender

· Terry Ferrell hugging me

· Chase Masterson hugging me – repeatedly - and telling me I look amazing

· Chase Masterson touching my hands and saying how much she enjoyed seeing my face in the audience every night

· Chase Masterson singing Peel Me A Grape just for me and coming off the stage and running her fingers through my hair and down my neck and shoulder

· John de Lancie doing  a double take at me

· Smiling and waving to Robert Picardo and Chase Masterson in the hallways

· Almost crashing into Casey Biggs in the vendor’s room

· Stealing front row seats for the Rat Pack

· Ethan Phillips making me laugh so hard during the Rat Pack that my abdominal muscles ached

· Jeffrey Combs telling me I looked great (I’m 3/3 with that man; he said I looked ‘lovely’ the two previous years)

· Jeffrey Combs’ insane manic energy during the Rat Pack

· Hugging Casey Biggs

· All the amazing singers at the gala, especially Tim Russ singing Moondance

· People liking my cool Cardassian bag

· Marina Sirtis being her usual awesome self during the TNG panel, and putting that Kirk woman in her place (if you’ve been to the con, you know who I’m talking about)

· Seeing my buddy Mike again and doing an interview about Trek

· Armin Shimmerman and James Darren both asking what my For Cardassia shirt said (to be clear, it’s NOT in Cardassian; it’s in English - so the fact that they BOTH asked what it said just makes me laugh)

· Aron Eisenberg giving me a copy of one of his photographs

· Yelling at Ira Steven Behr to get a shot of @guljerry in Cardassian make-up with a Bajoran dude for his documentary – and him doing it

[alynonymousstuff]

Social Information Processing Theory

Christelle Alynna Marie S. Agustin BA COMM II

@preiiofficial liked your tweet.

@preiiofficial followed you.

2 weeks later.

@xtellea94: “Happiest birthday to my realest ate! God bless you always!”

@preiiofficial: “Thank you, bebe! See you real soon!”

Considering social media as an environment to meet good people is like fishing in a huge pond and it requires you to move from corner to corner. We get to hook people that comes along and we gain them. Being an online communicator means we get to know each other and develop mutual affinity by using the medium’s available cues – text.

I met Ate Precious (Preii) in 2017 when she appeared in my twitter notification, liking my tweet with an EXO content. Apparently, she’s a big fan since 2012 while I just started around February 2017. Let’s say it’s the fact that our common denominator as EXO fans encouraged us to pursue an interaction that we even reached each other’s direct message until our Instagram, Facebook and Snapchat accounts got linked together. Being friendly as one of her dominating traits, it was never hard for me to share topics with her even behind typed messages. It is an Ilocos-Cavite friendship connection.

All thanks to the presence of the internet. Months passed and we found ourselves talking about our personal lives through chats, dismissing the margin that limits us about anything we can talk about. She’s always been so open about anything so I did the same thing. She told me that she transferred school when she was in 2nd year college, she narrated how much she loathed her family when they rejected her idea of studying Multimedia Arts and how she got disappointed when they asked her to take Pharmacy instead. She also gave me an overview of her plans to her future; to study hangul and work in Korea.

We are so comfortable that our conversations became a sewing machine of our collective experiences; be it the best or the most embarrassing ones. Despite not seeing each other yet, we unconsciously built a common ground where we see ourselves as residents who are in need of comfort. She always asks me about my studies or how it stresses me. She makes time to ask about my condition whenever I’m sick. She never neglectd to drop a message delivering her congrats text when she knows something good happened to me. The thing is, we never had a conversation that might broke off our closeness.

Being the realest ate as she’s always been, she never failed to actually let me see the brighter aspect of everything. She would tell me more of her experiences where I can relate and that gives me chunks of courage and enlightenment. I still remember those traumatic situations for her and how she managed to handle it. I know for a fact that she is being real and authentic, that’s how my impressions goes.

Believe me, those who doesn’t know us personally really has that power to bring mirrors for us – they always provide unusual reactions which later on makes us discover something new and deeper about ourselves. I’ve been on that point because of her.

Years passed and our relationship even got better that it made me feel like I have an older sister from a distance. It was January 2018 when she went to South Korea for the third time and that’s when she got me my first EXO lightstick. It’s always been my goal to have this stuff from EXO’s agency building itself (SM COEX) and she made it possible. I received the lightstick with her surprise gifts/pasalubong for me when she came back after her trip in Korea, for once, I’ve realized that this kind of people are not just internet friends because they possess unanticipated effort. Whenever I order EXO merchs from online shops, she’d always do it for me because she got plenty of trusted connections. Stating a direct quote from her, she says “Ako na bahala, baka kasi hindi legit yung mga ibang shops tas mamaya scammer pala.” In fact, I got my first album because of her help.

April 2018 when we finally met each other in EXO’s concert and of course, I also brought gifts prepared for her. We were talking to each other in a phone call, updating where we are for us to meet in a particular area. I was walking within the Pacific Drive outside MOA Arena with my phone in my ears and my left hand holding a paper bag when I stopped and saw a familiar person along my way, and that person did the same way. I knew at that point that we quickly recognized each other that’s why we immediately smiled and hurriedly hugged. I was surprised when she handed me a graduation gift. We settled at Coffee Bean and talked a lot of things like it’s not our first time to meet because there was no awkwardness at all, she’s as sweet as she is in chats. We seized the time being together before the concert started at 6 PM.

We met each other again twice this year. Last July, in between her work, she came to see me for a bit at MOA around 11:30 PM after LANY’s concert and to quote her, “Siyempre need kita i-meet always kapag nandito ka sa Manila, wala tayong papalagpasin na chance para magkita.” and unexpectedly she gave me another set of gifts. Same thing happened last August when we both watch EXO’s concert again in Manila for 2019.

Base on this specific branch in my life, I have agreed to what Social Information Processing Theory implies that people who meet online have an opportunity to make and sustain an overwhelmingly positive impression and its claim that human beings are creative communicators who are able to use text-only channels to convey a level of relational warmth that eventually equals that expressed when face-to-face.

The length of time that me and ate Preii have shared contains the rich flow and exchanged of information about us wherein this resulted for multiple meetings, thus may also construct our future relationship as we choose to stay at the same line where we can meet. Getting to know a person online is not that harmful as others may say, but if we focus on the goal on why we are on this platform which is to actually gain friends who can help or positively influence us, then we are able to meet people who are intended to be a part of our lives.

[solivar]

WIP: Ghost Stories On Route 66

aka the one where  Hanzo Shimada is an expatriate student of the Fine Arts, attending college in what he assumes to be a reasonably sedate corner of the American southwest. Jesse McCree is an occasionally leather-clad NPS ranger whose duties extend somewhat further than shooing lost tourists back onto the clearly marked hiking trails. Something weird is going on in the desert south of Santa Fe and their lives unexpectedly come together in the middle of it.

The bit in which Hanzo has a frank and meaningful conversation with Tekhartha Zenyatta.

The UMN annex was four hoverbus transfers and one short stretch on the rapid pedestrian transit speedwalk which, this time at least, did not result in any form of grievous bodily harm, not even a bit of unscheduled nipple-surfing across the raked-stone-and-succulent-beds lawn at his point of exit. Given that his last trip out to the annex had resulted a) missing the exit, b) attempting to return to the exit by the expedient method of hopping over the lane separator, and c) being sent to the hospital via ambulance because having one foot going one direction and one foot going the other direction and each moving at roughly twice the average human walking speed was a recipe for tragedy, he considered this at least an unqualified success. In his own defence, the last time he traveled out to the annex was also his first, carrying Zenyatta’s forgotten lunch since he was the one who didn’t have any scheduled classes or studio time or anything resembling work that day, and had not expected what he found upon arrival. In the world of his childhood, buildings called “annexes” were either ancient, crumbling cinderblock-and-sheet-metal edifices that would probably exist until an earthquake strong enough to topple them came along  or else post-Crisis modular prefabs of recycled and poorly insulated plastics meant to be replaced by more permanent construction but which never seemed to rate high enough on anyone’s priority queue to quite get there.

This annex, by way of cruel and distracting contrast, was a Pueblo Deco Revival architectural masterwork purpose designed and built as a showcase piece for the style, as well as to house the off-campus professional enrichment classrooms and offices for the chosen few among the faculty. His research, conducted while he was spending six weeks with his left leg in a full immobilization brace, suggested that being assigned space there was generally the result of a member of the faculty either dying or moving on and the survivors engaging in the sort of academic heft/staff seniority knife fights only spoken of in shellshocked whispers by TAs and adjuncts who’d had the misfortune of witnessing them first hand. That Tekhartha Zenyatta, known by all for his thoroughgoing gentleness and fundamentally mild nature, occupied a prime chunk of that real estate suggested that his publish-or-perish game was thoroughly on point or he knew where a substantial number of bodies were buried and probably both. His office was a second-floor corner, not quite as desirable as some spaces, significantly more desirable than others, gifted with more than adequate storage and sitting space as well as enormous windows in two of the four walls and a view of the city and the mountains beyond that could genuinely be described as a vista.

Zenyatta was sitting at his desk, silhouetted against said vista, when Hanzo arrived, having missed him in the classroom by a double handful of minutes, and knocked on the frame of the open door. He looked up and never was the praying mantis resemblance more acute than when the westering sun caught the shaved curve of his skull and the highlights in his hazel eyes as he blinked a slow and vaguely astonished blink at the apparition that appeared before him. Hanzo held up a thermos. “I have soup.”

Zenyatta smiled and his eyes glinted with unconcealed humor. “And this time emergency services were not involved in the delivery. Come in, my friend.”

Hanzo stepped inside and closed the door behind him. By the time he turned around, Zenyatta had retrieved two bowls from the depths of his desk and shut down the holoscreens of its internal workstation. Hanzo sat, and poured, the soup still warm enough to steam, and a for a moment the sat together in companionable silence and drank.

“Ah.” Zenyatta finally said. “Grandmother Sumiko’s miso soup recipe. Never tell your brother this, but I am of the opinion that no one in the household makes it better than you.”

“You flatter me.” Hanzo replied, but couldn’t help the smile that grew across his face. “And I would never break my brother’s heart that way, I assure you.”

A warm chuckle. “I hope you do not mind me saying it, but you also have the look about you of a man who wishes to unburden himself without having to spend the next two hours talking his excitable, wildly overprotective little brother out of shipping him back to Japan tied up in a crate marked live cargo, do not taunt.”

“You...are not even a little bit wrong about that,” Hanzo admitted, and set his bowl down. “I -- “

He opened his mouth to speak, and for a long, long, horrifyingly long moment, absolutely nothing came out. Zenyatta’s pale silver brows, always startling against his dark skin, rose questioningly as he finished drinking his soup and set the bowl aside. Hanzo closed his mouth, breathed deeply, exhaled, breathed deeply again, and found words absolutely failing to emerge from his word-making hole despite the ardent desire burning beneath is breastbone to expel the tale of every weird-ass thing that had happened to him over the last four days, unpleasant, pleasant, and enjoyment-neutral. His throat worked fruitlessly with the effort to produce them, his brain chased itself in fully coherent narrative circles, but the only thing to emerge from his throat was a thin, wheezy whine not entirely unlike the pitiful utterance of a woodwind whose reed was so hopelessly saturated with saliva it was utterly incapable of effective vibration. With a wordless moan of despair, he collapsed against Zenyatta’s desk and buried his head in his arms.

“I have the sense,” Zenyatta said, gently, “that this is not something you have done very often. Or perhaps at all. Ever.”

Hanzo found he could not raise his head from his arms and so he lifted a hand in a complex gesture he hoped Zenyatta would interpret as agreement.

“Would it, perhaps, be easier for you if I asked questions?” Again, oh so very gentle.

“...Maybe?” From the depths of his defensive stronghold, Hanzo managed to force out a response.

“Very well.” Zenyatta’s tone became, if anything, even more serene. “I understand that you intended to visit Shiprock. Was it all that you expected it to be?”

“...Yes.” He very much wished, at that moment, to wax rhapsodic at length, to utter self-condemnatory words for never having visited sooner, despite having the time to do so more than once over the years, to describe how it was impossible to fully appreciate the place in all its stark beauty without standing in the cool of its shadow, and settled for croaking into the crook of his arm, “I’ll show you the pictures when we get home.”

“Hanzo, my friend, are you comfortable with this? We can stop if -- “

“No,” Hanzo muttered, lifting his head enough to catch a glimpse of Zenyatta looking down at him, naked concern on his face. “No -- I wish to continue. Please.”

“As you wish.” Zenyatta leaned slightly closer, his hands folding together atop his desk in a fashion Hanzo was inclined to call mudra-ish. “I also understand that you intended to visit the Omnic graveyard in that area, as well. May I ask why? The two goals seem entirely divergent from one another.”

“Part of my Visual Thesis.” Hanzo admitted to the surface of Zenyatta’s desk. “A...comparison and contrast between natural forms of desolation -- the desert, particularly now that winter is approaching -- and the wreckage left behind by the collapse of modern civilization, the towns abandoned during the Crisis and never reoccupied, the scars left behind by hubris and war. I thought the graveyard, and the town closest to it, which was also called Shiprock, would make a striking example.”

“I tend to agree.” A little smile touched the corners of Zenyatta’s mouth. “I would very much enjoy seeing those photographs, I think, and to visit the your thesis exhibition next spring.”

“Iwillmakecertainmyadvisorhasyouonthelist.” He could feel all the blood evacuating his extremities and heading directly to his face and so he positioned his otherwise useless hands to hide it as much as possible. “The whole experience left me feeling...melancholy. There was -- there is -- an intrinsic sadness to the whole thing, even now, thinking of how much death and destruction could have been avoided, how much more could have been done in the aftermath, the appalling waste of it all.”

And now was the weird part. Where the emphatically Not Normal stuff began. He could feel the urge to beg Zenyatta’s forgiveness for wasting his time welling up in his throat and the even stronger urge to stand up and flee even if it meant risking death or dismemberment on a snow-slicked speedwalk taking up residence in his legs, pleading with him to retreat from what was certain to be a scene of pure humiliation. You should really spare your brother’s boyfriend the necessity of calling the hospital and having you admitted for psychiatric evaluation -- that’s the sort of thing that can put a strain on even the best relationships, a little voice that seemed to partake of rationality murmured in the back of his mind, seduction spiked with reproach because, really, what kind of asshole would do that to Zenyatta? He absolutely did not have to be forced to make that sort of judgment call and --

“And then where did you go?” Zenyatta’s voice, warm and smooth as oil, poured through the cracks in his internal monologue and caused how now-slippery thoughts to skid away like an unsteady but enthusiastic two year old on a particularly lubricious skating rink.

“Cerrillos,” Hanzo blurted out, before the voice of rationality could reassert itself. “Well -- eventually. This is where things become...strange. Very, very strange. I would humbly ask that you listen first and then, if you think me thoroughly irrational afterwards, we can discuss...options?”

Zenyatta’s hands lifted away from the table and took on a second, even more mudraish posture just below his chin. “Agreed. Though I should also tell you that, having lived and worked here for a number of years my standards for strange are quite liberal.”

“My car’s GPS began malfunctioning even before I left the vicinity of the graveyard -- I believe I was technically still within Shiprock town limits.” He retrieved the second thermos and jiggled it gently; Zenyatta brought out two tea bowls this time, and he poured for them both. A few sips and he was fortified to continue. “It refused to hold the route I indicated. I had to reset it several times and it misdirected me all over the hills until I reached what used to be Route 14, where it showed me a course back to Santa Fe from the south. The car itself was sputtering for miles and it finally died completely just after I made that turn.”

“I have heard of this sort of thing before from both students and colleagues.” Zenyatta informed him, meditatively. “Global positioning devices frankly refusing to function properly in certain regions south of the city, that is. The theories I have heard in relation to why this may be tend to extremes to say the least.”

“Oh?” Hanzo asked, somewhat more warily than he liked.

A certain mischievous sparkle came into Zenyatta’s eyes. “The most reasonable suggest some form of localized, persistent geomagnetic disturbance in the Earth’s atmosphere, though how such a thing could both exist and completely defy conventional forms of detection is a debate all by itself. Some of the others...well. Roswell is only two hundred miles away, and well within the observed radius of GPS disturbances.”

“Roswell?” Hanzo asked, blankly this time.

The mischievous sparkle was now a mischievous gleam. “Aliens, my friend. Visitors from another world. One of my students is involved in the production of a journal of amateur UFOlogy and swears with a great deal of passionate conviction that the United States government has been covering up the existence of extraterrestrial life since a vehicle not of this world crashed in Roswell in the late 1940s.”

“I...believe I read about that at some point.” Hanzo leaned back in his chair. “A crashed weather balloon?”

“A crashed nuclear test observation balloon that spawned thousands of conspiracy theories, some of them more plausible than others.” He shook his head slightly. “But I agreed to listen first. Please...continue.”

“Yes. Uhm.” And now came the Really Incredibly Strange Parts and before his rational mind could start whispering helpful advice, he pushed himself all the way up into a normal sitting position, gripped the armrests of his chair and said, “I think there were coyotes. Actual real, living coyotes. At least one. When the car died, it was almost dark -- the road I was on barely existed on the GPS and from what I could see it wasn’t traveled regularly at all. My cell had no reception, not even the emergency contact signal. I knew that waiting wasn’t really an option, so I gathered my things and began walking north along Route 14. I saw their eyes from a distance at the edge of my light and for at least a few hours, I was convinced I was going to be eaten.”

A smile curled Zenyatta’s mouth, but he mercifully said nothing.

“I reached Cerrillos -- I want to say near midnight? I lost track of time while I was walking. It was cold, I was exhausted, and at first I didn’t realize I was looking at real lights, an occupied building. The ranger’s...station, I should probably say, but it was more like just a house? I think he’s lived there a long time, is what I’m saying. He took me in and I sort of passed out on his couch and the next morning he gave me breakfast and can I just say that if you and he got into a gently soothing smile contest, I am legitimately unsure who would win? He’s just so -- “ Hanzo’s hands, he realized with dawning horror, had released their grip on the armrests through no conscious direction of his own and started talking for themselves; he hastily stuffed them under his thighs. “Anyway, the next day he took me to my car to see if anything could be done for it and there was...something...more than one something...not a coyote...lurking around it. Nearby. We heard them first -- they howled, like a pack of animals communicating with one another.” He found he could recall that hideous, unearthly sound with horripilating intensity, a shudder running the length of his body as he did so, and Zenyatta’s sympathetic listening face took on a hint of genuine alarm. “Jesse -- that’s the ranger’s name, Jesse McCree -- told me to get back into our vehicle and as we were driving away there was something else, something louder and closer and I --”

The sensation that gripped him now was less a shudder than a convulsion as, for an instant, he nearly remembered what he saw -- the outline, the contour, the texture, the stomach-churning awareness that none of those things were born of any sane world, or even the one they both now occupied, and he deeply regretted everything he’d eaten thus far that day. He clamped his jaw and his eyes shut and swallowed hard and, as he did so, a pair of warm hands cradled his face. At a vast distance, he heard Zenyatta saying his name. With an almost superhuman effort, he forced his eyes to open and ground out, “I saw it. Something unnatural. It saw me, too, and it tried -- “

“It tried to devour your soul.” Zenyatta finished it for him.

“How -- ?” Hanzo croaked, not quite certain how many possible permutations of that question he actually meant, but he knew it was more than one.

“Did I know?” The kindly smile had a slightly sad tinge to it. “I sensed the change in you when you returned home last night, but I wasn’t certain how or when to approach you about it. Your spirit has always been wounded, for as long as I have known you, but this is...more. Not so deep nor so old but more immediately serious. Your soul was severed from your flesh?”

“Yes,” Hanzo croaked again, his stomach still seriously considering rebellion and his mind now beginning to get in on the uncivilized revolution action. “How -- ?”

“The ranger saved you? He must have, he was the only one close enough to do so. How...unusual.” Zenyatta’s eyes gleamed again, almost with a light of their own, golden welling up from beneath gray and green. “And he protects you still. I can see his aegis wrapped around you like a cloak of crimson and gold, holding you while you heal, hiding you from...the thing that saw you.”

“Really?” It came out sounding horribly, pathetically needy and he tried to cringe away, but Zenyatta refused to relinquish his hold.

“Yes.” The smile that curved his lips held more than a trace of impishness; Hanzo found that bizarrely comforting. “I would like to meet this ranger of yours. Other professional craftworkers are so hard to find outside the specialized academic sphere, and those assholes would never dirty their hands with actually rescuing someone.”

“I’d like to see him again too.” It was nothing more or less than utter honesty and it fell out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“Excellent. We shall have to make a day of it.” Gently. “Can you stand? Walk?”

Hanzo tested his legs and found his knees wobbly but not so much he wouldn’t risk getting out of the chair. “I think?”

“Good, because I am not certain I could carry you.” Zenyatta leaned back, resting on the edge of his desk. “I realize this has been several sorts of shock to you, my friend. I will do what I can to help ameliorate that, and assist in your recovery however I am able.”

“He gave me a medicine. A kind of tea? It’s supposed to help.” Hanzo took a deep breath, forced his racing thoughts to slow, and then to organize themselves into at least one coherent utterance. “Professional craftworkers?”

“A term of relatively modern provenance, I must admit.” Zenyatta reached out and grasped his hand gently. “I understand that you were, in essence, studying to be part of our kindred order once.”

Hanzo swallowed with some difficulty, his own grip involuntarily tightening. “Oh.”

“Yes.” He glanced out the western window at the sunset beginning to blossom in scarlet glory over the city. “We should go home -- it’s my night to cook, after all. If it is not objectionable to you, I would like to examine the medicine you were given?”

“Of course.” Hanzo replied, numbly, feeling as he did so the ache of that older wound again, for the first time in ages. “Genji. Did he...did he tell you what…”

“No.” Zenyatta’s smile softened into something close to sorrow again. “Only that you left your path for reasons of your own. We may discuss that also, if you wish.”

“No.” It came out more curtly than he wished and he squeezed Zenyatta’s hand in apology. “No -- I...do not wish to...visit that again. Not right now.” Never, whispered that silent ache, and he pushed himself slowly to his feet. “I...would like to be home before dark, if we could.”

“Of course.”

*

[8cetera]

Track #5: No More

(A string of short imagines based on Rafael Barba, inspired by the songs from Jonathan Larson’s Tick, Tick…Boom!) #1. 30/90  #2. Green Green Dress  #3. Johnny Can’t Decide  #4. Sunday  #5. No More #6. Therapy

The sunlight peered through the gaps in the blinds and landed directly upon his eye. He squinted in irritation and slumped his head on his pillow to face away from the sudden intruder, that being of nature.

He knew there was very little chance that he would be able to fall back to sleep but nevertheless, he tried. He reminded himself that he deserved an extra hour or two in bed.

The clutter of papers, Blue Diamond nuts containers and the growing pile of coffee stained mugs on his side table attested further to the fact. He inserted additional effort in relaxing his mind and began his process that, proven countless times in the past, has worked seamlessly.

He was on the twenty third sheep when he began to feel it working. The sounds of the kids playing basketball in the court nearby began to fade as his eyelids granted him exactly what he wanted.

Twenty six, twenty seven, twenty eigh—

“Rafi!”

This was just a dream.

He was simply having a dream that his mother was knocking excessively on his door at this very moment. He thought he was a sensible man. A smart one, even, and so when he thought the best course of action was to not move an inch and to keep his eyes shut tight in hopes that she made a mistake, he kept that thought.

However when the parent he loved to absolutely no end decided to come in anyway and plant herself at the foot of his bed, he felt his determination to fall back to sleep quickly falter.

“Rafi-” She shook the ankle of the foot that was hanging off the bed.

“Rafael.” He made a noise that might have resembled a combination a grunt and wail, and curled his legs underneath the blanket. He felt so childish, and felt even more so when he realized that his mother must be thinking the exact same thing.

“Rafael Barba you better get up right this minute or so help me God I will make sure you never do.”

Well that certainly did the trick.

The thought of sleep and sheep became a distant memory as he immediately sat up against his headboard, not missing the proud expression directed at him.

“What is it, Mamí?” He said in the middle of a yawn.

He rubbed his tired eyes with the palms of his hands and squinted as he waited for a response. When none came, he studied his mother in search for clues. When his line of sight landed on her hands, he thought his heart would separate itself from his body.

If humans miraculously had the capability to see snapshots of what people were thinking, all they would see from Rafael’s mind would be a symbol.

A symbol of a shield with crimson detail at the top and accompanied with the letters ve ri tas written across. Many things ran through his mind at any time of day, but this symbol was the one thing that has always remained constant. That is, for the last eight years of his life.

It just so happens that that symbol, the one that was engraved on the very core of his mind, was the same symbol on the top corner of the envelope that his mother was holding.

He could hear her calling out his name again, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her hands. For the first time in a long time, he felt fear. It was as if his entire life depended on the contents of that four by nine inch envelope.

Newsflash, Rafael thought to himself, it does.

He slowly reached for the envelope with both hands, trying to control the way his fingers were shaking. He saw his name and address printed on the center but that didn’t cease himself from questioning the reality he was in.

“Mamí, what if—” He stopped himself, senselessly worried that if he released it out to the universe, it would be tempted to make it so.

“Rafael—” His mother put her hand over his shaking one and squeezed, “whatever’s in there, whether it’s what you expected or—”

He could see that she, too, didn’t want to say the words. Like mother, like son.

“You will get past it. I know you will.”

She assured him, and while he still felt the nauseating sense of nervousness, he also felt comforted from his mothers words.

After a couple of deep breaths, he turned the envelope over and began to peel off the seal.

Rafael hated running.

Running, jogging, brisk walking—anything that required more effort than his average walking speed, he wasn’t a big fan of. One of the things that gave him joy about graduating high school was that he no longer had to attend gym, which of course involved running, and lots of it.

Yet here he was, running close to a mile now, with the biggest smile on his face with only one destination in mind. When he reached it, he bent to put his hands on his thighs, trying to catch his breath.

He pressed the buzzer and impatiently waited for a response. He sighed in relief as he heard the short static that indicated that there was someone on the other line.

“Yeah, who is it?”

“It’s me!” He only realized after, especially after a passerby gave him a concerned look, that he might have said it too loudly. He cleared his throat and proceeded with a softer tone.

“Wanna go for a walk?”

“Raf! Sure, I’ll be right down.”

He saw her come down the stairs through the glass on the door, and just when he thought his smile couldn’t be any wider, he proved himself wrong.

“Hey, you! I was actually just about to head over—”

He knew it was forward and relatively presumptuous, to unexpectedly pull someone into an embrace, even if the person his arms were around was a childhood friend.

“Raf—” She laughed nervously as she returned his hug but patted his back when his hold began to feel too tight for her to continue her sentence, “I can’t exactly breathe.”

“Oh sorry, I’m so sorry.” He immediately let her go, suddenly embarrassed at his behavior.

“It’s fine” she nudged him on the shoulder, “What’s up?”

He motioned for them to start their, as he tried to find the best way to share the news.

“Rafi, you’re never this quiet and I can’t believe I’m saying this but its actually starting to concern me so would you please spill—”

“I’m going to Harvard.”

He continued walking, but she didn’t, and so now his back was turned to her as they both tried to process the information. It was the first time he said it aloud, and while he made sure she didn’t see it, he couldn’t lie to himself by saying that his eyes didn’t begin to water.

“Rafael.”

He rubbed his face before turning around and laughed at the way her mouth was agape.

“Full scholarship.”

“Rafael!”

If it was indeed forward and presumptuous to hug ones childhood friend, he now realized, as his arms were once again wrapped tightly around her, that none of it mattered. What mattered was that

“I’m so happy for you.” She whispered.

“Thank you.” He responded, but not without craning his head ever so lightly that his nose traced the side of her neck.

The action didn’t go unnoticed between the two of them. She loosened her hold and looked away from his gaze, both silently agreeing that they continue their walk and not talk about it.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” She asked him playfully as they circled the playground for the third time.

“What?”

“You’re moving up, Barba. Before you know it you’re gonna’ call me to tell me you have your own washing machine. No more having to walk five blocks to Peters’ with thirty pounds worth of laundry to do in the middle of winter.”

He threw his head back in laughter, which she soon joined.

“No more broken heaters, or leaking ceilings”

“No more brushing your teeth in the kitchen sink because the pipes are always screwed up.”

“You’ll get a fancy apartment, one with a walk-in closet.”

“Wait, wait- a walk in closet? How much clothes do you think I'll have, exactly?”

She waved her hand in front of his face.

“Shh- shh- don’t spoil my vision.”

Laughter and good conversation made time go fairly quickly, and soon enough they stood in front of her apartment. He was a second away from bidding his goodbye when she spoke.

“I-I have news too.”

She looked at his curious face for a few moments and smiled, “Sri Lanka.”

He stared at her with a blank expression.

“What about it?”

“That’s where I’m going, Rafi. In three months. I’ll be volunteering with Global Vision in Sri Lanka.”

“Wha-what? Since when did you—? When did you—”

“I applied earlier this year. There were so many things to consider, I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure. Which I now do. Rafi… don’t look at me like that. This is a good thing.”

He sighed and felt bad about the look he didn’t mean to give her. He took both of her hands in his.

“Of course it is. Congratulations, I mean it. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Thank you. And I know it’s sudden but this feels right, Raf. For the first time in a while I feel like I’m making the right decision and I know there are risks about not knowing what happens after but I need to trust myself and, and—”

“Stop.” He rubbed her knuckles with his thumbs and made sure she was looking into his eyes. “It’s the right decision. If you think so, that means it is. Your gut has only led you to good things, so don’t start doubting it.”

She landed her head on his chest and made a noise that sounded very close to the one he made earlier when he had woken up.

“I’m scared, Raf.”

“Sure you are. But that isn’t a reason not to do this.”

She lifted her head and struggled to find the words to describe her gratitude.

“Besides if things don’t work out, you could always sleep in my walk-in closet.”

She shook her head, finding it very difficult to hide her amusement.

“I’m going to miss these walks.”

“Me, too.”

The uncomfortable silence returned, and Rafael was quick to acknowledge it.

“I better go. Mamí wants to head over and see abuelita to share the news.”

“Of course, of course. You’ll call me later?”

He nodded, and waited for her to head back up before he began his walk back.

No more, he found himself chanting quietly.

No more.

[lifeofresulullah]

The Life of The Prophet Muhammad: The Battle of Khandaq and Afterwards

The Expedition of Umrah: Part 1

(Sixth year of the Migration, the month of Dhulqada / March 13, 628)

The Dream of the Prophet

One night, the Messenger of God saw in his dream that he and his Companions went to Makkah and circumambulated the Kaaba without any fear or worry, and that some of his friends shaved and others trimmed their hair.

When the Prophet told his Companions about his dream, they became very happy and excited. Six years had passed since the muhajirs had migrated to Madinah from Makkah. During those six years, many big and small incidents took place but they were still missing their homeland. They always dreamed of rejoining the land in which they were born and grew up. The land that they missed was not an ordinary place; it was the holy land in which the Kaaba was located and which they turned toward five times a day during the daily prayers.  

Therefore, the glad tiding of the Messenger of God, “You shall enter the Sacred Mosque!” was welcomed by the Muslims. They thought and expected that they would circumambulate the Kaaba that year.  

The Quran informs us about this dream of the Messenger of God.

Setting off from Madinah

The Prophet appointed Abdullah b. Umm Maktum as his deputy in Madinah. He set off on Monday with two clothes of Yemen style. About one thousand and four hundred Muslims set off with him. There were also four women Companions. One of those women was Umm Sa­lama, one of the wives of the Prophet. Only two hundred Muslims had horses. They only had swords, which they always had when they travelled; the swords were in their sheaths. There were also seventy camels to be slaughtered.

Hazrat Umar and Sa’d b. Ubada Express their Concern

The Prophet reached the place called Dhul-Hulayfa with his Companions.

Meanwhile, Hazrat Umar went to the presence of the Prophet and said, “O Messenger of God! Will you go to the land of the tribe that is in a state of war with you without weapons and horses? Shall we not take our weapons to fight them when necessary?”

The Messenger of God said, “My aim is to perform umrah; I do not want to carry weapons.” Thus, he stated that their intention was not fighting but performing umrah only; that is, visiting the Kaaba.  

Sa’d b. Ubada, one of the notables of Ansar, expressed the same concern:

“O Messenger of God! I wish we had our weapons with us. If we perceived any suspicious acts from them, we would attack them.”

The Prophet answered him in the same way: “I will not carry weapons. I set off with the intention of umrah only.”

Dhul-Hulayfa is the place of miqat; that is, entering ihram. The Prophet entered ihram after performing the noon prayer here. He had the seventy camels to be sacrificed marked.

Some of the Muslims also entered ihram there.

After performing the noon prayer, the Prophet turned toward the qiblah and uttered the talbiya: “Labbayk! “Labbayk! Allahumma Labbayk! Lab­bay­ka la sharika Laka Labbayk! Innal hamda wan’ni­ma­ta la­ka wa’l-mulka la sharika laka. (Here I am, O God, here I am. Here I am, You have no partner, here I am. Verily all praise and blessings are Yours, and all sovereignty, You have no partner.)”

This lofty voice gave the environment a luminous atmosphere. The Companions were very excited.

Before leaving Dhul-Hulayfa, the Messenger of God sent Busr b. Sufyan to Makkah to find out about the state of the polytheists and to tell Makkans why he was going to Makkah. Busr had come to Madinah to visit the Prophet. He was returning to Makkah with the Prophet upon his request.

The Decision of the Qurayshi Polytheists

The polytheists found out that the Prophet was coming to Makkah with a large group of Companions and made this decision: “Muhammad and his friends will not be allowed to enter Makkah” Therefore, they sent a group of cavalrymen consisting of two hundred people under the command of  Khalid b. Walid to the place called  Kurau’l-Ghamim. On the other hand, they gave a feast to the tribes of Ahabish in order to persuade them to help them in case of a clash.

Busr b. Sufyan, who had been sent to observe the state of the polytheists, returned and told the Prophet the definite decision of the polytheists and their efforts.

When the Messenger of God heard about it, he said, “Woe on the Qurayshis! They will be destroyed. Wars have already demolished them. I wish they had not prevented me from talking to other Arab tribes. If they defeat me, that is what they want. If God makes me defeat them, they will accept Islam all together if they wish. If they do not do so, it means they take the risk of fighting. Alas! Do the Qurayshi polytheists think they have a great power? By God, I will not stop fighting them until I make the religion that God sent dominant and superior and until my head is cut off my body.”

The Prophet got very sorry when he heard that the Qurayshi polytheists were getting ready to prevent them. Even the fiercest enemies used to circumambulate the Kaaba together like brothers during the forbidden months. The polytheists did not use to prevent them. They wanted to prevent only the Prophet and the Muslims from visiting the Kaaba, which was an innocent, lofty, holy and righteous desire.

The Prophet Changes the Route

The intention of the Messenger of God was to visit the Kaaba only. Therefore, he did not want any clashes to occur. When he heard that a Qurayshi group of cavalrymen under the command of Khalid b. Walid had reached the place called Ghamim, he said to his Companions, “Khalid b. Walid is in the place called Ghamim with some cavalrymen to watch us. Therefore, follow the way on the right.” Thus, the Prophet changed the route of the Muslims and led them through another way. When Khalid b. Walid saw the Islamic army from a distance, he returned to Makkah to inform the Qurayshis about the situation.  

Consultation with the Companions

Upon those conditions, the Messenger of God wanted to evaluate the situation. He called the Companions and asked them about their views.

They said, “God and His Messenger know the best. We came here with the intention of umrah only. We did not come here to fight anyone; however, if they want to prevent us from performing umrah, we will definitely fight them.”

The Prophet became glad when he heard that his Companions were determined and said, “Then, walk in the name of God.”

The Muslims who had set off with the intention of an innocent and holy aim only, that is, visiting the Kaaba, started to walk toward Makkah and the Kaaba with takbirs and talbiyas.

Qaswa Suddenly Kneels

The Messenger of God was riding his camel called Qaswa. When, Qaswa reached the border of Makkah, she wanted to kneel. The Companions tried to prevent her from kneeling but Qaswa resisted them and knelt down without moving even one step. They tried to make her stand up but they could not.

Thereupon, the Prophet said, “She never used to kneel like that. However, the one that had prevented the elephant from entering Makkah once is preventing Qaswa now. I swear by God, in whose hand of power my life is, that I will accept what Qurayshis want no matter how hard they are, meaning the respect to the things that God forbids within the boundaries of Makkah.”

Indeed, if Qaswa had not knelt down, the Muslims would have walked toward the Qurayshi polytheists, which could have started a clash.

However, the Muslims had their swords only. They were deprived of the other weapons. They were not very crowded. On the other hand, The Qurayshis had more weapons and they were more than the Muslims in number because the other tribes living around supported them.

Nevertheless, the Muslims would not avoid fighting. The Muslims who acted like one body could defeat the Qurayshis despite their number and lack of weapons with their courage and heroism and with the help of God. However, it would mean disrespect to the Kaaba. The Prophet and the Muslims never wanted something like that.

Besides, there were many Muslims, men and women, that were living in Makkah but that were concealing that they were Muslims. The Muslims of Madinah did not know them; it was possible that they could be killed during a clash.

Furthermore, it was possible that many Qurayshi notables would embrace Islam soon and would serve Islam and that they would bring up many good children.

These were some of the reasons behind the fact that Qaswa knelt down unexpectedly.

Qaswa, who did not stand up and walk despite all of the efforts of the Companions, stood up and started to walk when the Prophet asked her to stand. However, she did not walk toward the Qurayshis but the dry well at the end of the place called Hudaybiyah. Thereupon, the Prophet ordered the Muslims to settle there.

Like a Fountain with Ten Taps…

The place where the Muslims stopped at Hudaybiyah was a dry place. They were without water that day.

Meanwhile, when they saw that the Prophet wanted to make wudu from his pitcher, the Companions ran toward him. The Messenger of God said, “What is the matter with you?”

They said, “We are ruined, O Messenger of God! We have no water to drink or make wudu except the water in your pitcher.”

The Messenger of God put his hand on the pitcher and said, “Take, Bismillah!” Suddenly, water started to gush from among his fingers as if coming from taps. The Muslims drank from that water, made wudu and filled their pitchers up to the brim.  

When Jabir b. Abdullah, who narrated this miracle of the Messenger of God, was asked  “How many of you were there?”, he answered,  

“It would have been enough even if there were a hundred thousand of us! However, there were about one thousand and five hundred of us.”

[lifeofresulullah]

The Life of The Prophet Muhammad: The Battle of Khandaq and Afterwards

The Expedition of Umrah

(Sixth year of the Migration, the month of Dhulqada / March 13, 628)

The Dream of the Prophet

One night, the Messenger of God saw in his dream that he and his Companions went to Makkah and circumambulated the Kaaba without any fear or worry and that some of his friends shaved and others trimmed their hair.

When the Prophet told his Companions about his dream, they became very happy and excited. Six years had passed since the muhajirs had migrated to Madinah from Makkah. During those six years, many big and small incidents took place but they were still missing their homeland. They always dreamed of rejoining the land in which they were born and grew up. The land that they missed was not an ordinary place; it was the holy land in which the Kaaba was located and which they turned toward five times a day during the daily prayers.  

Therefore, the glad tiding of the Messenger of God, “You shall enter the Sacred Mosque!” was welcomed by the Muslims. They thought and expected that they would circumambulate the Kaaba that year.  

The Quran informs us about this dream of the Messenger of God.

Setting off from Madinah

The Prophet appointed Abdullah b. Umm Maktum as his deputy in Madinah. He set off on Monday with two clothes of Yemen style. About one thousand and four hundred Muslims set off with him. There were also four women Companions. One of those women was Umm Sa­lama, one of the wives of the Prophet. Only two hundred Muslims had horses. They only had swords, which they always had when they traveled; the swords were in their sheaths. There were also seventy camels to be slaughtered.

Hazrat Umar and Sa’d b. Ubada Express their Concern

The Prophet reached the place called Dhul-Hulayfa with his Companions.

Meanwhile, Hazrat Umar went to the presence of the Prophet and said, “O Messenger of God! Will you go to the land of the tribe that is in a state of war with you without weapons and horses? Shall we not take our weapons to fight them when necessary?”

The Messenger of God said, “My aim is to perform umrah; I do not want to carry weapons.” Thus, he stated that their intention was not fighting but performing umrah only; that is, visiting the Kaaba.  

Sa’d b. Ubada, one of the notables of Ansar, expressed the same concern:

“O Messenger of God! I wish we had our weapons with us. If we perceived any suspicious acts from them, we would attack them.”

The Prophet answered him in the same way: “I will not carry weapons. I set off with the intention of umrah only.”

Dhul-Hulayfa is the place of miqat; that is, entering ihram. The Prophet entered ihram after performing the noon prayer here. He had the seventy camels to be sacrificed marked.

Some of the Muslims also entered ihram there.

After performing the noon prayer, the Prophet turned toward the qiblah and uttered the talbiya: “Labbayk! “Labbayk! Allahumma Labbayk! Lab­bay­ka la sharika Laka Labbayk! Innal hamda wan’ni­ma­ta la­ka wa’l-mulka la sharika laka. (Here I am, O God, here I am. Here I am, You have no partner, here I am. Verily all praise and blessings are Yours, and all sovereignty, You have no partner.)”

This lofty voice gave the environment a luminous atmosphere. The Companions were very excited.

Before leaving Dhul-Hulayfa, the Messenger of God sent Busr b. Sufyan to Makkah to find out about the state of the polytheists and to tell Makkans why he was going to Makkah. Busr had come to Madinah to visit the Prophet. He was returning to Makkah with the Prophet upon his request.

The Decision of the Qurayshi Polytheists

The polytheists found out that the Prophet was coming to Makkah with a large group of Companions and made this decision: “Muhammad and his friends will not be allowed to enter Makkah” Therefore, they sent a group of cavalrymen consisting of two hundred people under the command of  Khalid b. Walid to the place called  Kurau’l-Ghamim. On the other hand, they gave a feast to the tribes of Ahabish in order to persuade them to help them in case of a clash.

Busr b. Sufyan, who had been sent to observe the state of the polytheists, returned and told the Prophet the definite decision of the polytheists and their efforts.

When the Messenger of God heard about it, he said, “Woe on the Qurayshis! They will be destroyed. Wars have already demolished them. I wish they had not prevented me from talking to other Arab tribes. If they defeat me, that is what they want. If God makes me defeat them, they will accept Islam all together if they wish. If they do not do so, it means they take the risk of fighting. Alas! Do the Qurayshi polytheists think they have great power? By God, I will not stop fighting them until I make the religion that God sent dominant and superior and until my head is cut off my body.”

The Prophet got very sorry when he heard that the Qurayshi polytheists were getting ready to prevent them. Even the fiercest enemies used to circumambulate the Kaaba together like brothers during the forbidden months. The polytheists did not use to prevent them. They wanted to prevent only the Prophet and the Muslims from visiting the Kaaba, which was an innocent, lofty, holy and righteous desire.

The Prophet Changes the Route

The intention of the Messenger of God was to visit the Kaaba only. Therefore, he did not want any clashes to occur. When he heard that a Qurayshi group of cavalrymen under the command of Khalid b. Walid had reached the place called Ghamim, he said to his Companions, “Khalid b. Walid is in the place called Ghamim with some cavalrymen to watch us. Therefore, follow the way on the right.” Thus, the Prophet changed the route of the Muslims and led them through another way. When Khalid b. Walid saw the Islamic army from a distance, he returned to Makkah to inform the Qurayshis about the situation.  

Consultation with the Companions

Upon those conditions, the Messenger of God wanted to evaluate the situation. He called the Companions and asked them about their views.

They said, “God and His Messenger know the best. We came here with the intention of umrah only. We did not come here to fight anyone; however, if they want to prevent us from performing umrah, we will definitely fight them.”

The Prophet became glad when he heard that his Companions were determined and said, “Then, walk in the name of God.”

The Muslims who had set off with the intention of an innocent and holy aim only, that is, visiting the Kaaba, started to walk toward Makkah and the Kaaba with takbirs and talbiyas.

Qaswa Suddenly Kneels

The Messenger of God was riding his camel called Qaswa. When Qaswa reached the border of Makkah, she wanted to kneel. The Companions tried to prevent her from kneeling but Qaswa resisted them and knelt down without moving even one step. They tried to make her stand up but they could not.

Thereupon, the Prophet said, “She never used to kneel like that. However, the one that had prevented the elephant from entering Makkah once is preventing Qaswa from now. I swear by God, in whose hand of power my life is, that I will accept what Qurayshis want no matter how hard they are, meaning the respect to the things that God forbids within the boundaries of Makkah.”

Indeed, if Qaswa had not knelt down, the Muslims would have walked toward the Qurayshi polytheists, which could have started a clash.

However, the Muslims had their swords only. They were deprived of the other weapons. They were not very crowded. On the other hand, The Qurayshis had more weapons and they were more than the Muslims in number because the other tribes living around supported them.

Nevertheless, Muslims would not avoid fighting. The Muslims who acted like one body could defeat the Qurayshis despite their number and lack of weapons with their courage and heroism and with the help of God. However, it would mean disrespect to the Kaaba. The Prophet and the Muslims never wanted something like that.

Besides, there were many Muslims, men, and women, that were living in Makkah but that was concealing that they were Muslims. The Muslims of Madinah did not know them; it was possible that they could be killed during a clash.

Furthermore, it was possible that many Qurayshi notables would embrace Islam soon and would serve Islam and that they would bring up many good children.

These were some of the reasons behind the fact that Qaswa knelt down unexpectedly.

Qaswa, who did not stand up and walk despite all of the efforts of the Companions, stood up and started to walk when the Prophet asked her to stand. However, she did not walk toward the Qurayshis but the dry well at the end of the place called Hudaybiyah. Thereupon, the Prophet ordered the Muslims to settle there.

Like a Fountain with Ten Taps…

The place where the Muslims stopped at Hudaybiyah was a dry place. They were without water that day.

Meanwhile, when they saw that the Prophet wanted to make wudu from his pitcher, the Companions ran toward him. The Messenger of God said, “What is the matter with you?”

They said, “We are ruined, O Messenger of God! We have no water to drink or make wudu except the water in your pitcher.”

The Messenger of God put his hand on the pitcher and said, “Take, Bismillah!” Suddenly, water started to gush from among his fingers as if coming from taps. The Muslims drank from that water, made wudu and filled their pitchers up to the brim.  

When Jabir b. Abdullah, who narrated this miracle of the Messenger of God, was asked  “How many of you were there?”, he answered,  

“It would have been enough even if there were a hundred thousand of us! However, there were about one thousand and five hundred of us.”

The Second News

When the Messenger of God was in Hudaybiyah with his Companions, Budayl Ibn Warqa, the leader of the Khuzaa tribe, came to his presence with a few people from his tribe. The tribe of Khuzaa, which was one of the tribes of Tihama, had been the allies of Sons of Hashim, to which the Prophet belonged, during the Era of Jahiliyyah. After the emergence of Islam, they showed respect to that alliance and supported the Prophet. All of them, whether they were Muslims or polytheists, informed the Prophet about what was happening in Makkah.

Budayl said to the Prophet, “The Qurayshis swore that they would fight you. They will never let you visit the Kaaba.”

The Messenger of God repeated their aim of coming to Makkah: “We did not come here to fight anyone. Our aim is to make umrah and to circumambulate, and to visit the Kaaba. Wars have battered, weakened and harmed the Qurayshis. If they want, we can declare a period of ceasefire. During this period, they will be safe. They should not prevent me from talking to other tribes. If I persuade those tribes and if they embrace Islam, the Qurayshi polytheists can become Muslims, too, if they want. If I cannot persuade the other tribes, then, they will be relieved and strengthened. If the Qurayshis do not accept what I offer and attempt to fight me, I swear by God, in whose hand of power my life is, I will fight them in the way of this religion, which I convey, until my head is cut off my body. Then, God will definitely keep his promise to help me.”

Budayl said, “I will report the Qurayshis what you have told me.” Then, he left.

Budayl wanted to tell the Qurayshis about what the Prophet had said when he returned to Makkah but they said, “We do not need any news from him. We want him to know one thing: He cannot enter Makkah even if there is only one of us alive.”

However, Urwa b. Mas’ud, one of their notables intervened and said, “Why do you not want to listen to what Budayl and his friends will say? Listen to them! If you like what Budayl says, you can accept it; if not, you can reject it.”

Thereupon, they listened to Budayl. He told them the reason why the Prophet had come to Makkah and his offer of a ceasefire.

The Qurayshi Envoy in the Presence of the Prophet

Urwa b. Mas’ud, one of the notables of the Quraysh found what Budayl said appropriate and said,

“Indeed, Budayl came here to show you the way of honesty and peace. Accept his offers and let me go and talk to him.”

The Qurayshi polytheists did not like what Urwa said. They said to him as if scolding him, “Go to Muhammad but do not come and tell us your view.”

However, Urwa went to the presence of the Prophet. He told the Prophet about the preparations of the polytheists, that they were waiting next to the Hudaybiyah Well and that they had decided not to allow anybody into Makkah.

The Prophet said to Urwa, “O Urwa! Speak for God: Is it appropriate to prevent these camels from being slaughtered, to prevent us from visiting the Kaaba and circumambulating it?” He continued,

“We have not come here to fight. We want to perform umrah and slaughter the camels that we want to sacrifice.

Tell this to my tribe, my family and my people: War has weakened them. Let them decide a period of the ceasefire between us. Tell them to let us visit the Kaaba. Tell them to let us perform umrah and sacrifice our animals. Otherwise, I swear by God that I will not stop fighting them until God keeps His promise that He will spread the religion of Islam on earth and until my head is cut off my body.”

Urwa b. Mas’ud was talking to the Prophet and at the same time observing their attitudes and acts toward the Messenger of God. He admired the respectful acts of the Companions toward the Prophet and their submission to the Prophet.

When he returned to the Qurayshi polytheists, he told them about the aim of the Prophet and his observations expressing his admiration. He said,

“O, my people! I have been to the presence of many rulers as an envoy. I swear by God that I have never seen any men showing respect to their rulers as his Companions showing respect to him. No Companion spoke without getting permission from him. When Muhammad ordered them something, everybody competed with each other to fulfill it. When the Companions talked near him, they spoke in a very low voice; they did not stare at him due to their respect to him and lowered their gazes. I realized that they would never leave him alone and they would not surrender even one hair of him to anybody; they would not let anybody touch his body. You can think of the rest of yourselves!”

Then, he said, “He offered peace; Come on! Let us accept his offer.”

The Qurayshi notables did not like this offer of Urwa; they even scolded him because of the way he spoke. Being disturbed by their scolding, Urwa left them and set off to Taif.

The Envoy of the Prophet

Both parties started to make negotiations in their headquarters and sent each other envoys with offers. The Prophet sent Khirash b. Umayya from the tribe of Khuzaa to the Qurayshis in order to inform them about his aim of coming. Thus, Khirash became the first envoy sent by the Messenger of God to the Qurayshis.

Khirash b. Umayya told the polytheists about the aim of the Messenger of God but they did not want to understand him. They treated him harshly, slaughtered his camel and even wanted to kill him. However, when the people of Ahabish intervened, they released him. Khirash b. Umayya saved his life with difficulty; he returned to the Prophet and told him what had happened.

The Messenger of God did not attack them though they tried to kill his envoy. He acted cautiously and patiently. He waited for their new offers. His aim was not to shed blood.

One More Envoy from the Quraysh…

When the Qurayshis saw that the Prophet did not return despite what was said, they sent Hulays b. Alqama, the leader of the Ahabish tribe as their envoy to the Prophet. The Prophet recognized Hulays from a distance. He said to his Companions, “This man is from a tribe that shows respect to animals to be sacrificed. Release the camels to be sacrificed and direct them toward him.”

The Muslims directed the camels toward Hulays and uttered talbiya: “Lab­bayk! Allahumma Labbayk!”

When Hulays saw this lofty and innocent scene, he started to cry. He could not help shouting,

“Subhanallah! It is a very ugly act to prevent this magnificent congregation from circumambulating and visiting the Kaaba. I swear by the Lord of the Kaaba that the Qurayshis will be destroyed due to those wrong attitudes and acts. The Muslims came here in order to perform umrah only.”

The Prophet heard the words of Hulays and said, “Yes, you are right; O Brother from Sons of Kinana.”

Hulays had nothing else to say when he saw the scene. He did not want to approach the Prophet and talk to him due to his respect for the Messenger of God. He went directly to the Qurayshis.

Hulays and the Qurayshi Polytheists

The lofty scene impressed and softened the spirit and the heart of Hulays so much that he said to the polytheists bluntly,  

“I think it is not appropriate to prevent the Prophet from circumambulating the Kaaba.”

However, the notables of the Quraysh had the view that nobody other than themselves could think truly. They were astonished and even infuriated when they heard what Hulays said. They insulted him by saying,

“You are an Arab of the desert! You are ignorant! Keep silent; you do not know about these issues.”

Hulays got very angry when he heard those words. He said, by defending the Prophet, “How can we prevent a person who came here to show respect to the Kaaba? I did not make an agreement with you regarding this issue. By God, either you will allow Muhammad to do what he wants or I will take all of the members of the Ahabish tribe and leave.”

However, even this threat did not persuade the Qurayshi polytheists. They persuaded Hulays by telling several lies and prevented him from breaking their alliance.

The Second Envoy: Hazrat Uthman

Negotiations through envoys continued.

The Messenger of God wanted to attain a definite result as soon as possible. He wanted to send Hazrat Umar to the Qurayshis in order to tell them why they had come.

Umar said, “O Messenger of God! The Qurayshi leaders know what a fierce enemy I am. I fear that they might assassinate me. There is nobody from my tribe in Makkah to protect me. However, if you definitely want me to go, I will go.”

The Prophet kept silent.

Thereupon, Hazrat Umar said, “It would be more appropriate if Uthman b. Affan went for this task because he has many people from his tribe and many relatives in Makkah.”

Indeed, Sons of Umayya, who were among the notables of Makkah, were all Uthman’s cousins.

The Messenger of God accepted Umar’s offer and summoned Uthman. He said to Uthman,

“Go to the Qurayshis. Tell them we have not come here to fight anyone; we have come here to visit the Kaaba. We will sacrifice these camels and return. Then, call them to Islam.”

The Prophet also told Uthman to meet the Muslims who are forced to conceal their religion and console them and to tell them that Makkah would be conquered soon and that they would not have to conceal their religion.

Hazrat Uthman went to the Qurayshi polytheists. He told them why the Prophet had come there and called them to Islam.

However, this negotiation did not yield a positive result, either. They said to Uthman, “Go and tell the person who sent you that he will never be able to enter Makkah and circumambulate the Kaaba.”

About ten muhajirs went with Hazrat Uthman to visit their relatives upon the permission of the Prophet. They also told their Muslim relatives that Makkah would be conquered and rejoiced them.

Hazrat Uthman does not Circumambulate the Kaaba Though he is Given Permission

Meanwhile, The Qurayshi notables said to Hazrat Uthman, “Circumambulate the Kaaba if you wish.”

Hazrat Uthman said, “No. I will not circumambulate it unless the Messenger of God (pbuh) does.”

The Qurayshis were disturbed by what Hazrat Uthman said and retained him for a while.

However, this news reached the Prophet as if Hazrat Uthman and the muhajirs had been martyred by polytheists.

[lifeofresulullah]

PROPHET MUHAMMAD: The Life of The Prophet Muhammad: The Battle of Khandaq and Afterwards

The Expedition of Umrah (Part.1)

(Sixth year of the Migration, the month of Dhulqada / March 13, 628)The Dream of the Prophet

One night, the Messenger of God saw in his dream that he and his Companions went to Makkah and circumambulated the Kaaba without any fear or worry, and that some of his friends shaved and others trimmed their hair.

When the Prophet told his Companions about his dream, they became very happy and excited. Six years had passed since the muhajirs had migrated to Madinah from Makkah. During those six years, many big and small incidents took place but they were still missing their homeland. They always dreamed of rejoining the land in which they were born and grew up. The land that they missed was not an ordinary place; it was the holy land in which the Kaaba was located and which they turned toward five times a day during the daily prayers.  

Therefore, the glad tiding of the Messenger of God, “You shall enter the Sacred Mosque!” was welcomed by the Muslims. They thought and expected that they would circumambulate the Kaaba that year.  

The Quran informs us about this dream of the Messenger of God.

Setting off from Madinah

The Prophet appointed Abdullah b. Umm Maktum as his deputy in Madinah. He set off on Monday with two clothes of Yemen style. About one thousand and four hundred Muslims set off with him. There were also four women Companions. One of those women was Umm Sa­lama, one of the wives of the Prophet. Only two hundred Muslims had horses. They only had swords, which they always had when they travelled; the swords were in their sheaths. There were also seventy camels to be slaughtered.

Hazrat Umar and Sa’d b. Ubada Express their Concern

The Prophet reached the place called Dhul-Hulayfa with his Companions.

Meanwhile, Hazrat Umar went to the presence of the Prophet and said, “O Messenger of God! Will you go to the land of the tribe that is in a state of war with you without weapons and horses? Shall we not take our weapons to fight them when necessary?”

The Messenger of God said, “My aim is to perform umrah; I do not want to carry weapons.” Thus, he stated that their intention was not fighting but performing umrah only; that is, visiting the Kaaba.  

Sa’d b. Ubada, one of the notables of Ansar, expressed the same concern:

“O Messenger of God! I wish we had our weapons with us. If we perceived any suspicious acts from them, we would attack them.”

The Prophet answered him in the same way: “I will not carry weapons. I set off with the intention of umrah only.”

Dhul-Hulayfa is the place of miqat; that is, entering ihram. The Prophet entered ihram after performing the noon prayer here. He had the seventy camels to be sacrificed marked.

Some of the Muslims also entered ihram there.

After performing the noon prayer, the Prophet turned toward the qiblah and uttered the talbiya: “Labbayk! “Labbayk! Allahumma Labbayk! Lab­bay­ka la sharika Laka Labbayk! Innal hamda wan’ni­ma­ta la­ka wa’l-mulka la sharika laka. (Here I am, O God, here I am. Here I am, You have no partner, here I am. Verily all praise and blessings are Yours, and all sovereignty, You have no partner.)”

This lofty voice gave the environment a luminous atmosphere. The Companions were very excited.

Before leaving Dhul-Hulayfa, the Messenger of God sent Busr b. Sufyan to Makkah to find out about the state of the polytheists and to tell Makkans why he was going to Makkah. Busr had come to Madinah to visit the Prophet. He was returning to Makkah with the Prophet upon his request.

The Decision of the Qurayshi Polytheists

The polytheists found out that the Prophet was coming to Makkah with a large group of Companions and made this decision: “Muhammad and his friends will not be allowed to enter Makkah” Therefore, they sent a group of cavalrymen consisting of two hundred people under the command of  Khalid b. Walid to the place called  Kurau’l-Ghamim. On the other hand, they gave a feast to the tribes of Ahabish in order to persuade them to help them in case of a clash.

Busr b. Sufyan, who had been sent to observe the state of the polytheists, returned and told the Prophet the definite decision of the polytheists and their efforts.

When the Messenger of God heard about it, he said, “Woe on the Qurayshis! They will be destroyed. Wars have already demolished them. I wish they had not prevented me from talking to other Arab tribes. If they defeat me, that is what they want. If God makes me defeat them, they will accept Islam all together if they wish. If they do not do so, it means they take the risk of fighting. Alas! Do the Qurayshi polytheists think they have a great power? By God, I will not stop fighting them until I make the religion that God sent dominant and superior and until my head is cut off my body.”

The Prophet got very sorry when he heard that the Qurayshi polytheists were getting ready to prevent them. Even the fiercest enemies used to circumambulate the Kaaba together like brothers during the forbidden months. The polytheists did not use to prevent them. They wanted to prevent only the Prophet and the Muslims from visiting the Kaaba, which was an innocent, lofty, holy and righteous desire.

The Prophet Changes the Route

The intention of the Messenger of God was to visit the Kaaba only. Therefore, he did not want any clashes to occur. When he heard that a Qurayshi group of cavalrymen under the command of Khalid b. Walid had reached the place called Ghamim, he said to his Companions, “Khalid b. Walid is in the place called Ghamim with some cavalrymen to watch us. Therefore, follow the way on the right.” Thus, the Prophet changed the route of the Muslims and led them through another way. When Khalid b. Walid saw the Islamic army from a distance, he returned to Makkah to inform the Qurayshis about the situation.  

Consultation with the Companions

Upon those conditions, the Messenger of God wanted to evaluate the situation. He called the Companions and asked them about their views.

They said, “God and His Messenger know the best. We came here with the intention of umrah only. We did not come here to fight anyone; however, if they want to prevent us from performing umrah, we will definitely fight them.”

The Prophet became glad when he heard that his Companions were determined and said, “Then, walk in the name of God.”

The Muslims who had set off with the intention of an innocent and holy aim only, that is, visiting the Kaaba, started to walk toward Makkah and the Kaaba with takbirs and talbiyas.

Qaswa Suddenly Kneels

The Messenger of God was riding his camel called Qaswa. When, Qaswa reached the border of Makkah, she wanted to kneel. The Companions tried to prevent her from kneeling but Qaswa resisted them and knelt down without moving even one step. They tried to make her stand up but they could not.

Thereupon, the Prophet said, “She never used to kneel like that. However, the one that had prevented the elephant from entering Makkah once is preventing Qaswa now. I swear by God, in whose hand of power my life is, that I will accept what Qurayshis want no matter how hard they are, meaning the respect to the things that God forbids within the boundaries of Makkah.”

Indeed, if Qaswa had not knelt down, the Muslims would have walked toward the Qurayshi polytheists, which could have started a clash.

However, the Muslims had their swords only. They were deprived of the other weapons. They were not very crowded. On the other hand, The Qurayshis had more weapons and they were more than the Muslims in number because the other tribes living around supported them.

Nevertheless, the Muslims would not avoid fighting. The Muslims who acted like one body could defeat the Qurayshis despite their number and lack of weapons with their courage and heroism and with the help of God. However, it would mean disrespect to the Kaaba. The Prophet and the Muslims never wanted something like that.

Besides, there were many Muslims, men and women, that were living in Makkah but that were concealing that they were Muslims. The Muslims of Madinah did not know them; it was possible that they could be killed during a clash.

Furthermore, it was possible that many Qurayshi notables would embrace Islam soon and would serve Islam and that they would bring up many good children.

These were some of the reasons behind the fact that Qaswa knelt down unexpectedly.

Qaswa, who did not stand up and walk despite all of the efforts of the Companions, stood up and started to walk when the Prophet asked her to stand. However, she did not walk toward the Qurayshis but the dry well at the end of the place called Hudaybiyah. Thereupon, the Prophet ordered the Muslims to settle there.

Like a Fountain with Ten Taps…

The place where the Muslims stopped at Hudaybiyah was a dry place. They were without water that day.

Meanwhile, when they saw that the Prophet wanted to make wudu from his pitcher, the Companions ran toward him. The Messenger of God said, “What is the matter with you?”

They said, “We are ruined, O Messenger of God! We have no water to drink or make wudu except the water in your pitcher.”

The Messenger of God put his hand on the pitcher and said, “Take, Bismillah!” Suddenly, water started to gush from among his fingers as if coming from taps. The Muslims drank from that water, made wudu and filled their pitchers up to the brim.  

When Jabir b. Abdullah, who narrated this miracle of the Messenger of God, was asked  “How many of you were there?”, he answered,  

“It would have been enough even if there were a hundred thousand of us! However, there were about one thousand and five hundred of us.”

[solivar]

WIP Ghost Stories On Route 66

aka the one where Hanzo Shimada is an expatriate student of the Fine Arts, attending college in what he assumes to be a reasonably sedate corner of the American southwest. Jesse McCree is an occasionally leather-clad NPS ranger whose duties extend somewhat further than shooing lost tourists back onto the clearly marked hiking trails. Something weird is going on in the desert south of Santa Fe and their lives unexpectedly come together in the middle of it.

In which Hanzo tries to spill his guts and his guts aren’t having any of it.

The UMN annex was four hoverbus transfers and one short stretch on the rapid pedestrian transit speedwalk which, this time at least, did not result in any form of grievous bodily harm, not even a bit of unscheduled nipple-surfing across the raked-stone-and-succulent-beds lawn at his point of exit. Given that his last trip out to the annex had resulted a) missing the exit, b) attempting to return to the exit by the expedient method of hopping over the lane separator, and c) being sent to the hospital via ambulance because having one foot going one direction and one foot going the other direction and each moving at roughly twice the average human walking speed was a recipe for tragedy, he considered this at least an unqualified success. In his own defence, the last time he traveled out to the annex was also his first, carrying Zenyatta’s forgotten lunch since he was the one who didn’t have any scheduled classes or studio time or anything resembling work that day, and had not expected what he found upon arrival. In the world of his childhood, buildings called “annexes” were either ancient, crumbling cinderblock-and-sheet-metal edifices that would probably exist until an earthquake strong enough to topple them came along  or else post-Crisis modular prefabs of recycled and poorly insulated plastics meant to be replaced by more permanent construction but which never seemed to rate high enough on anyone’s priority queue to quite get there.

This annex, by way of cruel and distracting contrast, was a Pueblo Deco Revival architectural masterwork purpose designed and built as a showcase piece for the style, as well as to house the off-campus professional enrichment classrooms and offices for the chosen few among the faculty. His research, conducted while he was spending six weeks with his left leg in a full immobilization brace, suggested that being assigned space there was generally the result of a member of the faculty either dying or moving on and the survivors engaging in the sort of academic heft/staff seniority knife fights only spoken of in shellshocked whispers by TAs and adjuncts who’d had the misfortune of witnessing them first hand. That Tekhartha Zenyatta, known by all for his thoroughgoing gentleness and fundamentally mild nature, occupied a prime chunk of that real estate suggested that his publish-or-perish game was thoroughly on point or he knew where a substantial number of bodies were buried and probably both. His office was a second-floor corner, not quite as desirable as some spaces, significantly more desirable than others, gifted with more than adequate storage and sitting space as well as enormous windows in two of the four walls and a view of the city and the mountains beyond that could genuinely be described as a vista.

Zenyatta was sitting at his desk, silhouetted against said vista, when Hanzo arrived, having missed him in the classroom by a double handful of minutes, and knocked on the frame of the open door. He looked up and never was the praying mantis resemblance more acute than when the westering sun caught the shaved curve of his skull and the highlights in his hazel eyes as he blinked a slow and vaguely astonished blink at the apparition that appeared before him. Hanzo held up a thermos. “I have soup.”

Zenyatta smiled and his eyes glinted with unconcealed humor. “And this time emergency services were not involved in the delivery. Come in, my friend.”

Hanzo stepped inside and closed the door behind him. By the time he turned around, Zenyatta had retrieved two bowls from the depths of his desk and shut down the holoscreens of its internal workstation. Hanzo sat, and poured, the soup still warm enough to steam, and a for a moment the sat together in companionable silence and drank.

“Ah.” Zenyatta finally said. “Grandmother Sumiko’s miso soup recipe. Never tell your brother this, but I am of the opinion that no one in the household makes it better than you.”

“You flatter me.” Hanzo replied, but couldn’t help the smile that grew across his face. “And I would never break my brother’s heart that way, I assure you.”

A warm chuckle. “I hope you do not mind me saying it, but you also have the look about you of a man who wishes to unburden himself without having to spend the next two hours talking his excitable, wildly overprotective little brother out of shipping him back to Japan tied up in a crate marked live cargo, do not taunt.”

“You...are not even a little bit wrong about that,” Hanzo admitted, and set his bowl down. “I -- “

He opened his mouth to speak, and for a long, long, horrifyingly long moment, absolutely nothing came out. Zenyatta’s pale silver brows, always startling against his dark skin, rose questioningly as he finished drinking his soup and set the bowl aside. Hanzo closed his mouth, breathed deeply, exhaled, breathed deeply again, and found words absolutely failing to emerge from his word-making hole despite the ardent desire burning beneath is breastbone to expel the tale of every weird-ass thing that had happened to him over the last four days, unpleasant, pleasant, and enjoyment-neutral. His throat worked fruitlessly with the effort to produce them, his brain chased itself in fully coherent narrative circles, but the only thing to emerge from his throat was a thin, wheezy whine not entirely unlike the pitiful utterance of a woodwind whose reed was so hopelessly saturated with saliva it was utterly incapable of effective vibration. With a wordless moan of despair, he collapsed against Zenyatta’s desk and buried his head in his arms.

“I have the sense,” Zenyatta said, gently, “that this is not something you have done very often. Or perhaps at all. Ever.”

Hanzo found he could not raise his head from his arms and so he lifted a hand in a complex gesture he hoped Zenyatta would interpret as agreement.

“Would it, perhaps, be easier for you if I asked questions?” Again, oh so very gentle.

“...Maybe?” From the depths of his defensive stronghold, Hanzo managed to force out a response.

“Very well.” Zenyatta’s tone became, if anything, even more serene. “I understand that you intended to visit Shiprock. Was it all that you expected it to be?”

“...Yes.” He very much wished, at that moment, to wax rhapsodic at length, to utter self-condemnatory words for never having visited sooner, despite having the time to do so more than once over the years, to describe how it was impossible to fully appreciate the place in all its stark beauty without standing in the cool of its shadow, and settled for croaking into the crook of his arm, “I’ll show you the pictures when we get home.”

“Hanzo, my friend, are you comfortable with this? We can stop if -- “

“No,” Hanzo muttered, lifting his head enough to catch a glimpse of Zenyatta looking down at him, naked concern on his face. “No -- I wish to continue. Please.”

“As you wish.” Zenyatta leaned slightly closer, his hands folding together atop his desk in a fashion Hanzo was inclined to call mudra-ish. “I also understand that you intended to visit the Omnic graveyard in that area, as well. May I ask why? The two goals seem entirely divergent from one another.”

“Part of my Visual Thesis.” Hanzo admitted to the surface of Zenyatta’s desk. “A...comparison and contrast between natural forms of desolation -- the desert, particularly now that winter is approaching -- and the wreckage left behind by the collapse of modern civilization, the towns abandoned during the Crisis and never reoccupied, the scars left behind by hubris and war. I thought the graveyard, and the town closest to it, which was also called Shiprock, would make a striking example.”

“I tend to agree.” A little smile touched the corners of Zenyatta’s mouth. “I would very much enjoy seeing those photographs, I think, and to visit the your thesis exhibition next spring.”

“Iwillmakecertainmyadvisorhasyouonthelist.” He could feel all the blood evacuating his extremities and heading directly to his face and so he positioned his otherwise useless hands to hide it as much as possible. “The whole experience left me feeling...melancholy. There was -- there is -- an intrinsic sadness to the whole thing, even now, thinking of how much death and destruction could have been avoided, how much more could have been done in the aftermath, the appalling waste of it all.”

And now was the weird part. Where the emphatically Not Normal stuff began. He could feel the urge to beg Zenyatta’s forgiveness for wasting his time welling up in his throat and the even stronger urge to stand up and flee even if it meant risking death or dismemberment on a snow-slicked speedwalk taking up residence in his legs, pleading with him to retreat from what was certain to be a scene of pure humiliation. You should really spare your brother’s boyfriend the necessity of calling the hospital and having you admitted for psychiatric evaluation -- that’s the sort of thing that can put a strain on even the best relationships, a little voice that seemed to partake of rationality murmured in the back of his mind, seduction spiked with reproach because, really, what kind of asshole would do that to Zenyatta? He absolutely did not have to be forced to make that sort of judgment call and --

“And then where did you go?” Zenyatta’s voice, warm and smooth as oil, poured through the cracks in his internal monologue and caused how now-slippery thoughts to skid away like an unsteady but enthusiastic two year old on a particularly lubricious skating rink.

“Cerrillos,” Hanzo blurted out, before the voice of rationality could reassert itself. “Well -- eventually. This is where things become...strange. Very, very strange. I would humbly ask that you listen first and then, if you think me thoroughly irrational afterwards, we can discuss...options?”

Zenyatta’s hands lifted away from the table and took on a second, even more mudraish posture just below his chin. “Agreed. Though I should also tell you that, having lived and worked here for a number of years my standards for strange are quite liberal.”

“My car’s GPS began malfunctioning even before I left the vicinity of the graveyard -- I believe I was technically still within Shiprock town limits.” He retrieved the second thermos and jiggled it gently; Zenyatta brought out two tea bowls this time, and he poured for them both. A few sips and he was fortified to continue. “It refused to hold the route I indicated. I had to reset it several times and it misdirected me all over the hills until I reached what used to be Route 14, where it showed me a course back to Santa Fe from the south. The car itself was sputtering for miles and it finally died completely just after I made that turn.”

“I have heard of this sort of thing before from both students and colleagues.” Zenyatta informed him, meditatively. “Global positioning devices frankly refusing to function properly in certain regions south of the city, that is. The theories I have heard in relation to why this may be tend to extremes to say the least.”

“Oh?” Hanzo asked, somewhat more warily than he liked.

A certain mischievous sparkle came into Zenyatta’s eyes. “The most reasonable suggest some form of localized, persistent geomagnetic disturbance in the Earth’s atmosphere, though how such a thing could both exist and completely defy conventional forms of detection is a debate all by itself. Some of the others...well. Roswell is only two hundred miles away, and well within the observed radius of GPS disturbances.”

“Roswell?” Hanzo asked, blankly this time.

The mischievous sparkle was now a mischievous gleam. “Aliens, my friend. Visitors from another world. One of my students is involved in the production of a journal of amateur UFOlogy and swears with a great deal of passionate conviction that the United States government has been covering up the existence of extraterrestrial life since a vehicle not of this world crashed in Roswell in the late 1940s.”

“I...believe I read about that at some point.” Hanzo leaned back in his chair. “A crashed weather balloon?”

“A crashed nuclear test observation balloon that spawned thousands of conspiracy theories, some of them more plausible than others.” He shook his head slightly. “But I agreed to listen first. Please...continue.”