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deimos-awaits · 3 days

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The Prime Conduit

The Fabricator Minoris tries to access memories very long ago moment in her life that have never quite been recorded correctly.

Adepta Aleph-Gimmel of Deimos in those days was only a young tech priestess. She had left the flesh vats of Deimos over a century and a half ago by standard reconing. Against her own desires she had been assigned as a diplomat to the First Deimos Explorator Fleet, to meet with both representatives from other forgeworlds including both extremes from beautiful Metallica to wonderous Sanctum Novis as well as members of other imperial organizations such as the stalwart Imperial Guard or frustrating ecclesiarchy. Such a position was, in her thoughts at the time, a waste for an Adepta of her aspirations. She often wondered if she would have been better staying on Sanctum Novis and actually getting to work as a Magos. Maybe Metallica would have been a better choice due to her more stringent orthodox practices and beliefs. There was something to be said about the pure white robes.

The diplomatic corp was of course was deeply insightful especially for the practical applications of the lessons of the Sciences of Charisma but it otherwise held little long term attraction.

Unfortunately her duty tied her to her home forgeworld and its fleets and to her dear friend Adept Tsephor-10.54 was not someone she wanted to leave behind! He was too important to her to leave behind or abandon. Maybe when she eventually was about to break away to pursue her long goal of technoarcheology he would come with. She dearly hoped so; Aleph-Gimmel could not imagine life without her closest friend. Technoarcheology, however, the wild adventure on the fringes of the galaxy to recover humanity's sacred past was her dream. The adventure! The excitement! The sacred duty and dreams of it filled her cogitators down time. There is course was supporting to be said about the glory of discovering an STC fragment that is as of yet unknown to the greater Mechanicus. It was all part of her duty to show the superiority of humanity's technology against the failures of xenotech.

During the latest part of her stint as a diplomat the young and hopefully rather unoutwardly augmented tech priestess received to communicate from further up the command chain. She was to meet with the delegation from an Ark Mechanicus ship.

Aleph-Gimmel sat down with her morning cup of recaff. It was nice to enjoy this quiet moment in the cramped quarters she shared with Tsephor, though his notes on the pttreaxii spiraled across the room. She began to go through the dataslate of assigned diplomatic tasks; there was always more to do. Meet with the archmagos of the Zar-Quaesitor, give the greetings from Deimos, and other standard information exchanges that occurred whenever the First Deimos Explorator Fleet met up with other Mechanicus ships. There were protocols, there were always protocols. Such protocols were what superated the Mechanicus from chaos worshiping fools and perfidious xenos.

The young woman took a moment to savor her recaff and enjoy the sweet taste present after she had added some synthesized sugar. She still had her stomach and taste buds intact mainly out of sentimentality. An odd trait among the mechanicus but given how stringent she was in all other matters of faith it was accepted as a foible that has occurred as a result of diplomatic duties. In truth Aleph-Gimmel simply enjoyed eating. The diplomatic path had led to many hidden augmentations however as she quickly learned other members of imperial organizations were likely to react better to say only one false eye and some cog tattoos rather than an entire steel face, and it was her honor to do her job efficiently and well.

Adept Tsephor-10.54 stirred from his own bunk. His rest cycle had finished. He like many other in the mechanicus has removed the need for direct sleep but still needed to plug directly into a nutrient recycling system in order to receive some rest. “Good morning Aleph, you look nervous.”

“Good morning, Tsephor. I'm not nervous just intrigued.” She responded calmly while scrolling through the rest of the data slate about the archmagos she was supposed to meet.

“Really Aleph? Your eye has that twitch it does when you get stressed.” Tsephor said now as he began to gather up his scattered notes on his beloved birds.

“Fine. I'm just a bit stressed because frankly I don't know who this Belisarius Cawl that I'm meeting is supposed to be.” She huffed out at him. Her organic hand reached up to cover her brown eye. She would need to get that fixed.

Tsephor stopped where he stood though mechandrites kept moving. “Aleph. Be serious with me now. You,” there was a pause. “Don’t know who Belisarius Cawl is?”

“No? Should I? I mean he's an archmagos so probably. I simply haven't heard of him in reality cage studies so he can't be important can he?”

The other techpriest simply stared at her as if feathers had begun to sprout from her robes. “Aleph, he is, look, did you ever install a dataport? It would be easier to send you the information.”

“No. I don't have one yet. You can send it over the noosphere. Having a direct connection like that to my brain seems unwise to me.”

Tsephor simply sighed and did his best to send over all he knew about the Prime Conduit to Adepta Aleph-Gimmel through a noosphereic packet though he was frankly confused how she knew so little about him, when even he himself did.

Her eye winded. “Oh. Fuck me.” That was not the reaction Tsephor expected. “That's…certainly going to put a damper on today but he is still an archmagos. Hopefully, hopefully there won't be too much technoheresey.” Tsephor could not tell if that was a joke or not.

“It all depends on how much you see of him I suppose, now I do have to report to Magi Barks-Sof 23/3, so meet up with you after your important meeting?”

“Yes, I'll probably be by the midship cathderum for prayers, based on the average time it takes to finish these diplomatic meetings. Let's meet there.” Adepta Aleph-Gimmel put her half finished recaf cup on the shelf mainly absentmindedly. She would finish it later.

She said a prayer of thank you to the machine spirits in the shared dormitories before quickly hurrying out the door and towards the docking bays where Deimos’s Cog would connect with the Zar-Quaesitor. Using the most express methods she would be able to arrive approximately within 14.6731 minutes of when she left the dormitories which would give her about 8.9523 minutes until the expected meeting time. As she walked, the usual accompanying swarm of servoskulls began to flit around her. It was usually a congregation consisting of incense carriers, datapslam speakers, and a few pic recorders. It was always welcome to feel the choir of machine spirits around her reaching out through the noosphee.

Arriving at the bulkhead doors, Adepta Aleph-Gimmel had little to do but wait. Her cogitators began to whir wondering exactly how this meeting would go. Most Archmagi she had met would usually not meet her here, but would such a flouter of time honored traditions and rituals follow that? Maybe not, but she has no idea what this so-called Prime Conduit would do nor how she would be greeted. Anxiety began to creep into her circuits and she did get beat to shut that down. The bulkhead doors were the standard Adeptus Mechanicus steel embossed with the cogwheel and skull and countless purity seals affixed after every inspection. Focusing on the waxen prayer seals helped get focus and banish any of the remaining thoughts from her head about way the upcoming meeting could to badly. She did not want to disappoint the Fabricator Minoris of the Fleet Omega Bellerov-1.0. Battleline duty awaited those who disappointed her and Aleph-Gimmel liked keeping her head.

After about 7.85781 minutes had passed with Aleph-Gimmel nearly frozen in place simply thinking about how to extol the virtue of the fleet she called home and the greatness of their human technology to such a heretic. The bulkhead doors between the ships began to open and creak their way open. Someone forgot the proper rites of maintenance was the main thought in her head, as she heard the metal groaning as it moved.

In the vast hallway between ships instead of the normal getting party there was a small what she assumed to be tech priest, it was a small box with a swarm of mechandrites attached, treads reminiscent of a tank from the Imperial Guard, and a human head atop it all. All of this was draped in the standard red robes of a Martian techpriest. This was honestly the least surprising form a tech priest she would have seen has taken but she did question the treads when so many more efficient and effective modes of transport were known to the Mechanicus. Once the lone figure had approached her fully, Adepta Aleph-Gimmel bowed deeply and transmitted the following message.

<<<Greetings to the Zar-Quaesitor, to Archmagos Dominatus Dominius Belisarius Cawl. We wish all the blessings of the Omnissiah upon thee. I am Adepta Legatia Aleph-Gimmel of the First Deimos Explorator Fleet and bring gifts and the welcomings of Fabricator Minoris Magos Dominia Omega Bellerov-1.0. I would be eager to aid you and your Archmagos in whatever way I can on behalf of the Synod of the Fleet and Fabricator Minoris>>>

The gifts were data packets and discoveries sent over to this newcomer by several of the floating servoskulls. In less than a millisecond after her own message has been received the techpriest in front of her transmitted a simple response. The simplicity of it annoyed her.

<<<Greetings! I am Magos Qvo-76. A servant of Archmagos Belisarius Cawl. Cawl sends word he apologizes he cannot meet you here in person but has extended a warm welcome to meet you in his personal labs.>>>

<<<This will be acceptable I will meet him.>>> This was an understatement; the kind of invite shw was receiving was a rare accolade for an Adepta of her station and she was more than well used to being brushed off by various Archmagi and other senior techpriests to talk with functionaries. Suspected heretic by her estimations or not.

<<<Wonderful! I've transferred this information to Cawl. Please follow.>>>

And with that the tech priest known as Qvo-76 scuttled back into the ship where he had come from. Aleph-Gimmel knew better than to tardy and engaged the autowalk feature on her legs that she might better focus on what Qvo was saying. The rest of their conversation was concluded in a similar manner through noospheric messages primary, Aleph-Gimmel surmised, because Qvo-76 no longer had enough flesh to speak via the organic method and apparently neither had installed a vox box.

As they walked and rolled through the bowels of the Zar-Quaesitor, Qvo-76 and Aleph-Gimmel kept conversing, the she could tell simply by looking at the variety of purity seals on the walls of the ship and how old the walls themselves were that she was now onboard a truly ancient Ark Mechanicus.

<<<So, Aleph-Gimmel, what is your field of study? An adepta such as yourself surely won't stay a Legatia forever in the diplomatic corp.>>> Qvo-76 took an interest once they were according to him, half way through the journey to Cawl’s laboratory.

<<<Technoarcheolohy and eality fields, Magos, are my current study, and yes. I…do not wish to stay at my current position forever. Magos Dominia Omega Bellerov-1.0 has promised once I prove myself here, I might begin a new path.>>>

<<<Reality fields?>>>

<<<Yes! The distortion of the fabric of reality due to the immaterium can be hopefully through carefully study proactively counter acted through the application and discovery of the proper STCs. That is my current aim.>>>

<<<Interesting. Gimmel, if I might be so familiar, you ever thought about using other sources for You're research.>>>

<<<No. It's important to maintain the purity and lineage of human technology.>>>

<<<I see. I see. You offer to help earlier, would you be willing to help provide this?>>>

<<<Yes I don't see why not?>>>

And after that the conversation melted back into pedantic back and forth about the nature of technology and how to best please machine spirits. After a while they approached the set of brass stores embossed similarly with the cog mechanicus. They were vast, at least seven times the height of Aleph-Gimmel herself. The doors slowly and soundlessly opened at their approach and inside all she could see was a future that was a cross between an arthropod and centaur of old Earth myth. The entire place was backlit so brightly compared to the dim Halls that they had been wandering in. Qvo-76 rolled on in. The unknowable figure that smelled of death itself gestured her to continue in.

Aleph-Gimmel not know why and she did not like not knowing but she did not know why she was filled with the horror and terror that were the namesake of her home forgeworld. She thought such emotions had been turned off in her.

She was wrong.

ERROR. DATA NOT FOUND. MEMECORE CORRUPTION DETECTED.

RESUMING MEMORY PLAYBACK.

Aleph-Gimmel stumbled out the brass doors once more. She knew the way back to her ship. The back of her neck ached the way it did when you implant or augmentation had been done but there was no augmentation that she knew of according to her memecore memory. How long had it been though? Once inside of Cawl’s labs her internal clocks had stopped working. Probably some standard dread number-oh-dread number error.The last few hours did sometimes stretch on for days or maybe they really were days as she thought more about her time and his company either way it was deeply enlightening. Cawl was a genius she had to admit!

As she wandered back to the Deimos’s Cog, normal machine cult curiosity suppressed by the desire to get home and talk with Tsephor, she just dreamed and wondered about that application that xenos technology might have to the design of creating and enforcing reality cages… necrodermis and blackstone was the object to study du jour for those well first and what the sage magi of Sanctum Novid termed neotech. However her mind could only turn now with ideas of what The wraith bone of the eldar could accomplish when turned to several sanctified practice using its psychoactive properties to reinforce the physical world instead of drawing in on the Immaterium.

I'm talking about the same amount of time though how much she could not know to return back to recorders where she wished me dealing with her friend her oldest friend that dearest friend.

Come entering she saw that he had a wild expression on his face, some shocking mix of concern worried that she did not know why and could not have them on she was talking with one of the geniuses of the Galaxy the honor of conversing with Cawl to worry about really!

“Aleph! Aleph where have you been!” The young tech priest obsessed with birds practically crooned at her. She ran over to hug her and soon wrapped her in his arms and mechandrites.

A grin spread wild across her face as her mind tried to search for any record of what had happened over the past few days by and large came up blank or maybe it was only just hours. “I was at my diplomatic meeting!”

“Aleph. Aleph.” And his voice lowered with as much care and worry better follower of the cult mechanicus could have. “It's been over a week.”

Her head glazed at that and she shook her head but couldn't be true could it no it's simply wasn't she rubbed her neck that ache in her neck had not gone away despite everything. She ignored the statement. “Could you see what's on my neck?”

And as gently as he could, Tsephor pulled down her foot from the robe knowing that she very rarely let anyone, even him, see her like this, it was almost a form of nakedness most others did not understand. Recovering with all the signs of typical fresh augmentation on the back of her neck in the place where she would never be able to see it, there was a dataport connecting directly into her central nervous system.

#transmissions from deimos #aleph gimmel #tsephor

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princecosmosanon · 2 years

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Secondhand Hearts - A Zukka Omegaverse AU

In my post about other fic ideas, I originally described this one as “Omegaverse fic where Zuko is banished like in the show, but Ozai also gives him away to Zhao” which, I admit, is pretty vague and says jackshit about the actual goings on in the fic. But I’ve actually thought a lot about this AU, and it’s one I’ve had in my head for the longest time.

This is also kinda the completely opposite of the Piandao/Zuko fic I’m currently writing, Heaven Sent/Hellbent.

Before anyone gets too far ahead of themselves diving into my notes here, I do want to stress that in this fic Zhao is an evil, awful, irredeemably terrible person. Do not think that I in any way condone what I have him do in my fics. With that being said, please mind the following warning.

Warnings for this one include: physical/mental/emotional abuse, rape/non-con, child marriage, arranged/forced marriage/mating, mentioned pedophilia, traumatic pregnancy/childbirth, racism/classism, and slutshaming towards Omega. If any of these topics are triggering for you, please do not continue any further.

Background: As I mentioned before, this story begins with the premise of Zuko being shipped away from home after his father burns him in the Agni Kai, but with a sick twist. Zuko was also given to Zhao, as he had been recently presented as an Omega, and Ozai thought, what better way to curb Zuko’s “rebellion” then by putting him under the thumb of one of his most trusted loyalists? Zhao is an Alpha already shown to be cut from the same cloth as Ozai, and with Zuko married off Ozai could focus his efforts more fully in the war and bringing Azula up as he wished.

Zhao was just as harsh and demanding of Zuko as Ozai expected. While recovering from the burn, Zuko could do little about Zhao’s advances. Zuko already had a mating bite on his neck by the time he finally was able to remove the bandages from his face, and any time he might have tried to escape, Zhao merely had to Alpha Command Zuko to stand down. Once Zuko managed to convince one of the Alpha crew of Zhao’s ship to help him escape but the plan was discovered, the Alpha was executed, and Zuko was commanded to never speak when an Alpha or Beta could hear him again. (Of course, this meant Zuko could only talk to other Omega, but that was more of a cruel joke of Zhao’s because there are no Omega on his or any other Fire Nation ship, and Omega are rare enough it was unlikely Zuko would ever encounter an Omega without another Alpha or Beta around.) This was when Zuko had barely turned 14.

Years passed like this, Zuko practically chained to Zhao’s bed, but something strange happened when Zuko turned 19, which is where the Story Begins: Despite having waged war against the Earth Kingdom and won many battles, suddenly the letters from home stopped. Not that Zuko received letters but he recognized the seal of the Fire Lord, and Zhao had stopped receiving orders for several months.

Zhao then got it in his head to return home but only after taking another prize for the Fire Nation as a gift for the Fire Lord. He decided to invade the Norther Water Tribe, which had mostly managed to stay neutral during the war by keeping its borders closed. Zhao pleaded with them to allow his boat to dock and relieve his crew’s exhaustion, but the real clencher for their sympathy was Zuko, who at this point was very heavily pregnant. It wouldn’t be safe for him to give birth on the open sea without more than a naval surgeon to see to him, or at least, that was the story.

As it was, Zuko really was pregnant but he could see an evil plan from Zhao a mile away. Desperate to actually do something to stop his mate from destroying a beautiful, thriving community, Zuko chose to play the perfect, demure Omega while there (not far off from how he normally acted at this point, considering he so rarely had the freedom to take matters into his own hands) and waited to gain enough trust to be left alone with only his “escort,” a Water Tribe Alpha sent to basically spy on Zuko’s and Zhao’s chambers on the premise he was there to “guard” a precious, pregnant Omega.

This Alpha was Sokka, who had been living with the Northern tribe for several years at this point. He and Katara had revived the once-lost Avatar from a block of ice as children, but being encased in ice had some dire effects on the last living Airbender. Aang needed more help than the Southern tribe could provide, but leaving meant abandoning their last remaining families, which wasn’t ideal either. It was eventually decided that everyone remaining of the South Tribe would pack the rest of their meager belongings and plead to return to the North. It was a treacherous journey, but they managed to make it mostly unscathed.

With Aang still recovering and remembering himself, the tribe rallied around the young man and helped to hide him amongst themselves. Sokka had been training more to be a warrior, and Katara had been training secretly to learn how to fight as a waterbender. Yue, at this point already mated to Hahn, is also pregnant with her second child. And it’s with these players in place that the Fire Nation infiltrate the Northern Tribe for Zuko’s last month of pregnancy. It’s not going to be easy to win over a mistrustful, foreign Alpha, especially when Zuko can’t talk, but through Sokka he hopes to stop another genocide by undermining his own Alpha’s plans, while still not fully understanding them himself.

This story is going to take a LOT of planning, I’m really going to have to hammer down my timelines in this fic before I even attempt to write it, but it would entail some interesting interactions. Zuko is at a huge disadvantage, but he’s the only person who can save them.

I also really like the idea of also giving Zuko a stutter and some selective mutism even when he doesn’t have to worry about Betas and Alphas around him. Just throw in another wrench into the works, see how he can overcome the odds stacked against him. The story would also have an aftermath part, where Sokka, Katara, Zuko and Aang leave the Northern Water Tribe eventually, but I have little thought out into all of that.

Anyway, that’s it for now.

#Secondhand Hearts #Zukka #fanfic ideas #please mind the warnings #fanfiction

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fire-lady-ilah · 3 years

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I would be fascinated in any ideas you had about how the hunt for Aang would go with 'good parent Ozai' AU!

Ask and ye shall receive! (@tiktokonaclock, here’s that part two you asked about). This continues from where I left off in part 1.

At first, Ozai says no. He has good reason to do so, Zuko is the Crown Prince, should he and Azula die then he will be heirless— he doesn’t know if Ursa would be able to bear another child, nor does he wish for another. In a less logical way, his mind protests because that is his son. Sixteen, yes, but still very much a child. That isn’t even the age of conscription.

He knows that the Avatar is a child, Commander Zhao’s report said that he appeared to be twelve, travelling with two other children that were closer to Azula’s age. He knows that his children make a formidable pair, he has no doubt that, together, they could be able to take on entire battalions of soldiers.

They are his children and they are Ursa’s children. How could he just let them go out to face an enemy such as the Avatar?

Zuko has Ozai’s charisma and awkwardness (as they come together, though few remember the way the Fire Lord used to stumble over his words as a teenager). Zuko looks so much like his father that sometimes older servants even refer to him by his name. But Zuko is equal parts his mother. He has his mother’s kinder nature, and he has her drive. Ursa’s persistence is one of the only reasons the Fire Nation is flourishing as it is now. Ozai knows that it had been suffering near the end of his father’s rule, he knows that he is an amazing military leader, just as he knows that it is better to leave his wife in charge of the majority of domestic policies.

It is that persistence combined with Azula’s carefully crafted wording that she also got from her mother that makes both Ozai and Ursa cave and give permission for their children to hunt the Avatar. Sometimes, Ozai wonders if his life would be easier if he didn’t love his family so much.

Zuko and Azula leave the Fire Nation together. Zuko is sixteen and looks the very image of a Crown Prince, even if a few hairs escape his top knot and fall across his face. Azula is fourteen and looks every bit the Princess she is. A single hair escapes it’s place and she leaves it be. She would not dare call attention to imperfections, just as Ozai himself wouldn’t. He is full of pride as he watches his children board the ship (the second newest design, as advanced as possible while having already been tested. He would not let untested technology take his children from him permanently). Captain Jee stands on the deck, greeting them. Apparently he had been demoted from his position at some point for assaulting an Admiral.

(He remembers the day he discovered the Captain’s existence well. Zuko had been eleven and helping him look over military documentation that had been sent to him to approve. One of such documents had been Jee’s demotion to lieutenant.

“I remember him. He was Lu Ten’s friend.” He heard his son mumble as he touched the included portrait of Jee. Closer examination showed that it had been drawn by his nephew himself. His son had loved his cousin, and he was not against doing things to make him happy. If Jee was loyal to Lu Ten, it only meant he would be more likely to be loyal to Zuko.

“I will have him transferred to the palace guard.”)

He proved to be honourable in the guard and had quickly been promoted back to captain after Ozai heard the true reasoning of the assault through Zuko’s horrified voice. He himself cared little for the affairs of military officers, but if it made his son happy to sign the papers for the Admiral’s dishonourable discharge and imprisonment, so be it.

That action had only solidified Jee’s loyalty to his son (and by extension, his daughter).

Now, I’m conflicted on whether or not Iroh would go with them. I’m leaning toward yes. Neither of them have been hurt by their father, but Zuko is still the most naturally kindhearted person in the royal family and he is destined to be Fire Lord. Azula has more empathy than she does in canon (although that’s not saying much), I doubt Iroh would comment that she’s “crazy and needs to go down”. After all, Ozai loves both his children here. That means that he doesn’t intentionally harm their mental health, nor does he encourage competition between them. They both want to make both their parents proud. If nothing else, Iroh would go with them so that he could stop them.

Thus, shortly after the Crown Prince and Princess of the Fire Nation step onto the ship, the Dragon of the West follows. It is filled with the best of the Fire Nation to seek the only bender of all four elements.

A stark contrast to canon, no?

The hunt progresses somewhat like in canon, though not. Lo and Li instruct further Zuko and Azula in lightning bending.

(“Only a hair out of place, Princess Azula.”

“That means I shall achieve perfection soon.”)

Iroh takes over his nephew and niece’s firebending training, though Azula is a master in her own right and Zuko is nearly a master as well. He forces them back to their basics.

Zuko yells and stomps and Iroh is reminded of his brother at the same age, back before his brother became the monster he is now. The same brother he sees glimpses of when Ozai is alone with his wife and children, the same brother that he sees none of in the Fire Lord. Azula is silent and moves to do her basics without complaint. She unnerves him, but he still loves her.

He loves them both. And he loves what remains of his brother in Ozai, even if he would choose the balance of the world over the Fire Lord in an instant.

They visit Admiral Zhao first. He declares that he has already captured the Avatar and that he would be more than willing to transfer his prisoner onto the royal family’s better equipped ship.

The siblings visit the chained Avatar. Zhao speaks of what he plans to do.

That is the thing about Ozai loving his children. Loving them means protecting them from certain cruelties, at least more than he did in canon. Zuko and Azula both see the Avatar, only twelve, and Zhao’s words overlap with Azulon’s orders to their father when Lu Ten dies. After all, Zuko had been only a year younger then.

That night, the Blue Spirit and the Dragon Emperor break the Avatar out of the stronghold with dual dao and twin daggers as the Prince and Princess sleep in their luxurious cabins. If that isn’t completely the truth, no one says anything to suggest as such. The Blue Spirit is knocked out by an arrow to the forehead. The Dragon Emperor does not allow the Avatar to remove the mask.

(“How did you not see that coming, Zuzu?”

“In my defence, you were supposed to be watching my back while I pulled the Avatar away.”)

They meet the Avatar’s companions briefly before the Emperor gestures to the rising sun and they disappear.

It is only after the escape of the Avatar that Iroh begins to consider the siblings further.

They pen a letter to their father.

Ozai reads between the lines and wonders, just once, if perhaps he had sheltered his children from the reality of war too much. He does not wonder again because he knows the alternative would have been far worse.

Instead, Ozai speaks with his wife. Ursa is a complex woman, but the Avatar is the reincarnation of her grandfather and she has an actress’s mind (and thus she has a politician’s mind).

As their children chase the Avatar, the Fire Lord and Lady put their own plan into motion. Canon Ozai may be content to lay all responsibility on his children, but this Ozai is actually a decent dad.

The siblings are free to enter Fire Nation territory as they wish and have no reason to sneak into the temple, even still they do. They watch as a Fire Sage, one of the highest religious authorities in the Fire Nation, disobeys the Fire Lord to help the Avatar.

Zuko’s quick fingers undo the water tribe boy’s restraints as Azula’s undo the girl’s. They share playful smirks, after all, neither of them are in any danger. They are a powerful team and they have their father’s unwavering support.

(“Why did you just untie us?”

“Zhao’s a dick.”)

Avatar Roku emerges in place of Avatar Aang. He pauses in front of the children, the girl that has Rina’s smile, the boy that has her hair (his own hair), always trying to escape from its confines.

They do not waver. They do, however, run when the Avatar begins to destroy the temple.

The siblings believe the Fire Nation is the greatest in the world. They believe that it is their duty to spread their glory to the other nations. But, late at night, taking tea together, they consider that perhaps Fire Lord Sozin went about it in the wrong way.

(Great-grandfather says hi, Ursa reads aloud from their children’s letter. Not for the first time, Ozai regrets sending his children on such a dangerous mission. He knew that Avatar Roku had been spotted on Crescent Island, he knew that he had blown up the temple. How close had his children come to being blown up?)

The Avatar sets course for Omashu. The siblings make a stop in the Fire Nation while they’re nearby. They have a friend to pick up.

Parts: [1] [3] [4]

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nordleuchten · 3 years

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La Fayette in Prison - Part 2 - Magdeburg

After Wesel, off we go to Magdeburg. Here La Fayette and his fellow prisoners stayed from January 4, 1793 until January 4, 1794. Just like Wesel, Magdeburg was and still is a prominent city in modern-day Germany (back then in Prussia). And just like Wesel, Magdeburg lies near a river, the Elbe to be precise. And again, the prison laid inside the city’s fortress. Large parts of the fortress are still intact and are the sites of numerous activities throughout the years, such as re-enactments, historic festivals, historic guided tour ... visitors are also free to request an individual guided tour, unrelated to any other activity. La Fayette is once more named as a noteworthy inmate by the Homepage of the organisation charged with taking care of the fortress. But he was far from the most prominent inmate – Germans at least will recognise the names of Fritz Reuter and Werner von Siemens (the guy who founded the company “Siemens”). Whoever created the Homepage either did not do their research or disliked La Fayette. It is stated that La Fayette attempted an coup d’état that failed and that he initiated the Champ the Mars massacre ... both statements are grossly oversimplified at best and utter nonsense at worst. During La Fayette’s stay Ludwig Karl von Kalkstein (then a Lieutenant-General) was the Governor of the prison and Otto Kasimir von Meerschneidt (then a Major-General) was its Commander.

La Fayette and is fellow Frenchmen were brought to Magdeburg by means of an open cart. What was in all likelihood intended to degrade them further, was actually a blessing for the prisoners. They now had fresh air and the open, blue sky in abundance, something that had been denied to them all those months prior. Something else happened as well. People recognized these august men and apparently also cheered for them. Where the Prussian and Austrian authorities had a keen dislike for La Fayette, the population was in large parts in favour of him (more on that in a bit). Though he may have been touched by the cheering, such outpours of affection did not help La Fayette endear himself to his jailers – not at all. Nevertheless, conditions at Magdeburg were better ... far from good, but better.

La Fayette was allowed to obtain some books. Among other things he read mostly about agriculture and this knowledge would later come in handy when he ventured into the farming business after his return to France in 1799. He was furthermore allowed to write and receive letter ... but there was a twist. You see, when a letter for La Fayette arrived, the authorities in Magdeburg would open it, read it and decide if La Fayette was allowed to receive this letter. If so, they would go into his cell and read the letter aloud to him exactly once. If he was allowed to reply, his letters were checked and if there was something in them that did not please his jailors, well, the letter then moved directly into the bin. Lovely!

Nevertheless, things were looking up for La Fayette and he started writing letters to the full extent of his possibilities. Although he ached to let his wife Adrienne know that he was more or less okay, he did nor dare to write her. She was still imprisoned in France and La Fayette feared that somebody there might recognise his handwriting and subsequently destroy the letter. Instead he tried to reach his English and American friends (both in America and as envoys in Europe).

La Fayette described his cell in a letter to an unknown friend in England:

“Imagine an opening made under the rampart of the citadel, and surrounded with a strong, high palisade; through this, after opening four doors, each armed with chains, bars, and padlocks, they come, not without some difficulty and noise, to my cell, three paces wide five and a half long. The wall is mouldy on the side towards the ditch, and the front one admits light, but not sunshine, through a little grated window. Add to this two sentinels, -- whose eyes penetrate into this lower region, but who are kept outside the palisade, lest they should speak other watchers not belonging to the guard, and all the walls ramparts, ditches, guards, within and without the citadel of Magdeburg, and you will think that the foreign powers neglect nothing to keep us within their dominions. The noisy opening of the four doors is repeated every morning to admit my servant; at dinner, that I may eat in presence of the commandant of the citadel and of the guard; and at night, to take my servant to his prison. After having shut upon me all the doors, the commandant carries off the keys to the room where, since our arrival, the king has ordered him to sleep. I have books, the white leaves of which are taken out, but no news, no newspapers no communications, -- neither pen, ink, paper, nor pencil. It is a wonder that I possess this sheet, and I am writing with a toothpick. My health fails daily (…).”

(I am a bit irked by the fact, that I can neither associated an recipient nor an exact date with the letter. The letter otherwise seems authentic and the content is similar to other letters by La Fayette that we have more information on – that being said, I gave the letter a pass although its provenance is not what I would like it to be.)

I have seen some people argue that La Fayette mostly managed to keep his spirits up, because he did not complained an awful lot in his letters – but when assessing such a statement, you have to keep in mind that La Fayette really could not complain a lot in his letters, otherwise they would never be posted. It is true though, that there were small betterments. I already mentioned the letters and books, but he and the other prisoners were also allowed to take regular walks in the yard of the prison. They walked separated from each other and were heavily guarded. But La Fayette fell ill again, this time with a fever. His illness was not as serious though as it had been at Wesel.

La Fayette also received some money from his friends in America. Some of his friends, such like Washington, privately send money for La Fayette to use. Thomas Jefferson, then Secretary of State, found a way for the Government to pay La Fayette some money. He argued that La Fayette had offered to serve in the Continental Army without pay but that there was no official document of the Continental Congress accepting this offer. It follows that the Treasury owned La Fayette six years of pay and furthermore ten years worth of interests since they had “forgotten” to pay him the money since the end of the war ten years prior. Jefferson wrote a letter to Washington on December 30, 1793:

“Soon after his captivity and imprisonment, and before the ministers had received our instructions to endeavor to obtain his liberation, they were apprised that his personal restraint, and the peculiar situation of his fortune disabled him from drawing resources from that, and would leave him liable to suffer for subsistence, and the common necessaries of life. After a consultation by letter, therefore, between our ministers at Paris, London, and the Hague, they concurred in opinion that they ought not in such a case to wait for instructions from hence, but that his necessities should be provided for until they could receive such instructions. Different sums have been therefore either placed at his disposal, or answered on his draughts, amounting, as far as we hitherto know to about twelve or thirteen hundred Guineas. This has been taken from a fund not applicable by law to this purpose nor able to spare it: and the question is whether, and how it is to be made good? To do this, nothing more is requisite than that the United States should not avail themselves of the Liberalities of M. de la Fayette, yielded at a moment when neither he nor we could foresee the time when they would become his only resource for subsistence. It appears by a statement from the war office, hereto annexed, that his pay and commutation as a major General in the service of the United States to the 3rd of nov. 1783 amounted to 24,100 dollrs thirteen Cents exclusive of ten years interest elapsed since that time, to the payment of which the following obstacle has occurred. at the foot of the original engagement by Mr Deane, a copy of which is hereto annexed, that a certain roll of officers there named, and of which M. de la Fayette was one, should be taken into the american service in the grades there specified, M. de la Fayette alone has subjoined for himself a declaration that he would serve without any particular allowance or pension. It may be doubted whether the words in the original French do strictly include the general allowance of pay and commutation. and if they do, there is no evidence of any act of acceptance by Congress. Yet, under all the circumstances of the case, it is thought that the legislature alone is competent to decide it. If they decline availing the United States of the declaration of M. de la Fayette, it leaves a fund which not only covers the advances which have been made, but will enable you take measures for his future relief. It does it too, in a way which can give offence to nobody, since none have a right to complain of the payment of a debt, that being a moral duty, from which we cannot be discharged by any relation in which the creditor may be placed as to them.”

Washington forwarded the letter to the Congress and on March 27, 1794 Congress passed a bill to pay La Fayette the money he had not accepted as a General during the Revolutionary War. To nobody’s surprise, neither Congress nor President Washington had any objections and the bill was approved swiftly.

Prisons in the 18th century (as well as today) often development into some sort of parallel society. Money and especially bribery could get you far in prison and La Fayette experienced that first hand. On November 18, 1809 La Fayette enclosed an account of his financial situation in a letter to Thomas Jefferson. It seems as if this lengthy report had been written by one of La Fayette’s secretaries. Here is a short excerpt of the English translation of the report:

“The expenses caused by his captivity were enormous; the prisoners had to pay their own way as long as their money lasted, and as General Lafayette was the only one with some money, he had to take responsibility for his fellow prisoners. But this was a small matter in comparison with all that his European friends did financially to save his life, to correspond with him, and to facilitate his escape. Some of them made great personal sacrifices, and the sums generously sent by the American government were swallowed up. General Lafayette’s family provided for its own expenses while living in Olmutz. So that on arriving at Hamburg after an imprisonment of five years he found nothing of what had been intended for him and only an increased debt to Mr. Gouverneur Morris up to the time when he was paid 68000.₶; to Mr. Parish former United States consul, forty three thousand Livres; to Mr. Bollman a contract reduced to 30000.₶”

(You see, a great deal of the financial troubles and transactions came after his stay in Magdeburg but since everything started in Magdeburg, I thought it convenient to discuss the monetary issue here in full.)

We see the United States taking actions to the best of their abilities and we see also more letters discussing La Fayette’s fate. News travelled slowly in the 18th century and it took the three months that La Fayette stayed in Wesel for the world to find out that he even had been arrested. But after the knowledge was out there, we see an increase in letters and also in newspaper coverage. So much so that Adrienne could read in the French newspapers that La Fayette was presently alive and in Magdeburg. We can further observe that people all other he world started petitioning the Prussian King for La Fayette’s relief. His friends, English Members of Parliament (although it would take a couple more years before the House of Commons would discuss the topic in full), Washington and his friends in America, Americas envoys in Europe, the list goes on. Some of La Fayette’s fellow prisoners, mostly unassuming secretaries and aids, had been released almost immediately and were now also trying to secure La Fayette’s freedom – some even returned to France to do so. We also see Prussians citizen petition their King. Most of these petitions were simple letters, but some petitioners had the money to spare and printed their petitions as pamphlets – many of them can today be found online.

Although the instructions for the guard were not less strict then they had been in Wesel, the guards in Magdeburg appeared to love to gossip. During his stay La Fayette was kept more or less up to date on the newest developments in France and the war. Eight months into his stay in Magdeburg he was also given some news about his wife Adrienne. La Fayette wrote Charles Pinckney in London on July 4, 1793:

My dear Sir,

Whilst on this anniversary my American fellow citizens are having their joy, I join in a solitary bumper with the happy remembrances, the patriotic wishes which are crowding upon us (...) Owning to your kind interference, my dear Sir, the crowned gaolers have consented after eight months to let me know that my wife and children were alive – be pleased to acquaint them that my health is tolerably good (...).

(Can we please acknowledge the fact that La Fayette took the time out of his day and remembered that it was the anniversary of American Independence?)

There is another letter that I want to give the spotlight. La Fayette wrote on March 15, 1793 to his friend, the Princess d’Hénin. In this letter he wrote that:

“I know not what disposition has been made of my plantation at Cayenne; but I hope Madame de Lafayette will take care that the negroes, who cultivated it, shall preserve their liberty.”

La Fayette had bought a plantation in the French colony of Cayenne and implemented a system of gradual emancipation. The plantation was later sold by French authorities and the people there re-enslaved. Although his endeavour ultimately failed I found it interesting to see that La Fayette, even during such a dark hour, thought about others as well.

Before we move on to the next prison, this time in Neisse, on last titbit. The Baron von Steuben, the absolutely legendary legend, was born in Magdeburg and as a man of military background probably spend some time in the fortress as well.

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nenko-dreams · 3 years

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Ohh, what is moon lovers about?

Hi, thank you for the ask, anon!

The Moon Lovers AU is loosely based on the TV series Moon Lovers: Scarlet Heart Ryeo.

It was the worst day in Brienne’s life. People she trusted set her up for public humiliation. She was convinced that nothing could make her life worse. But then, she got involved in a strange accident at the lake which coincided with the full solar eclipse. After Brienne waked up, she discovered that she was transported back over a thousand years ago to the Westeros, ruled by the greatest king of all times, Goldenhand the Just.

She was excited to meet him but when she did, she had to confront everything she knew about him as a historical figure with the real man he was in his time.

And here is a short fragment I’ve already written:

Something was very, very wrong. It wasn’t the world she knew. This father wasn’t the one she recognized.

“I’m sorry,” she said carefully, deciding it would be wiser to just listen to him. As strict as he sounded, Brienne was certain that he didn’t mean any harm to her. And maybe if she listened, she could better understand where exactly did she find herself. “I’m afraid I do not quite feel like myself.”

“I can see that. Do you remember anything?”

Brienne did actually remember everything until the accident at the lake which this version of her father claimed to happen fourteen years ago. She shook her head, deciding it would be a safer choice than to force her version of events. She didn’t want to appear crazier than she already did.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“I already told you it’s your chamber.”

“Yes, but I meant more general location.”

“We are at Evenfall Hall.”

“The museum? How did you arran—”

Brienne didn’t finish because of the incredulous expression of father’s face. “I mean, yes, of course, it is. But we don’t live here, right?”

“Brienne, I am the Evenstar and you are my daughter and heir. Where else are we supposed to live?”

Father has gone crazy. Or it was her. Judging by the surroundings it must have been her.

The further conversation was interrupted by the entrance of elderly looking man wearing a strange brown robe with a thick chain composed of rings of different colours which clanked with his every step. Fortunately, the woman didn’t return with him.

“My lord, septa Roelle has informed me that lady Brienne is now awakened but…”

Instead of finishing, he threw Brienne an assessing look.

“It seems that the accident might have had some…” Father was clearly struggling with choosing the right words. “…strange effects.”

“What do you mean by this, my lord? From what can I see the lady seems to be quite well.”

Because I am, Brienne thought. Physically she was good. Yes, her body felt slightly different than usual but Brienne was convinced it was just the effect of her prolonged diving. What troubled her most was the question of where she was and how did she end up in this place. And how to go back.

“She is not quite herself.” Brienne heard her father saying.

“It is normal to be in a state of shock after such extreme experience.”

“Could it involve memory loss?”

“I haven’t heard of that but if she stayed under the water for a long time, then yes, it might have happened.”

“But it is not a permanent effect?”

“I can’t tell anything before I check out my patient. If you allow, my lord, I would appreciate it if you left the chamber.”

“Of course,” father said, leaving Brienne alone with the man.

Without a hurry, he stepped toward her bed.

“My lady,” he said calmly, sitting on a chair that someone brought to her bed. “Let’s start from the basic question. Do you know who you are? What is your name?”

“Of course, I know. I’m Brienne Tarth.”

“Excellent, my lady. But could you tell me, where are we?”

Brienne hesitated. Father said they were at Evenfall Hall and she could just go on with that even if she didn’t necessarily recognize the place or even believed it was true.

“I can’t. I don’t know this place,” Brienne said, deciding against the lie.

“I see,” the man nodded, his long white beard grazed the rough material of his brown robe. “But you recognize your father, is it right, my lady?”

“Yes,” Brienne simply answered, refusing to elaborate on the differences between her dad and the man who could pass as his identical twin.

“Do you know who am I?” came the next question.

Brienne looked again in the man’s face. It was old and covered with wrinkles and stains so characteristic for older people. Everything about him seemed to be old and fragile except for eyes, which were bright and astute, making Brienne feel that he could see right through her.

“I’m sorry but I don’t. I guess you must be a doctor of some sort.”

“I am not sure what you mean, my lady, but I am maester Volden of the Citadel. I have been serving at Evenfall Hall for nearly twenty years.”

Brienne found herself nodding at this information, not sure how she should respond.

“Do you remember what did you do today and yesterday and the day before that?”

She did. But when she tried to question father about that she only earned a look of confusion and denial. Brienne shook her head.

“Interesting,” maester Volden murmured to himself. “Now, I would like to examine you, my lady.”

Brienne nodded and maester stood from his chair. Before Brienne could blink, he started his assessment, checking her pulse, her eyes, asking her to inhale and exhale on his command, and other things Brienne knew from medical shows that doctors tend to do. Particular attention he paid to her head, touching and watching it closely from every possible angle.

“Do you remember any kind of head injury you could receive? It didn’t necessarily have to happen during or after your fall from the cliff.”

“I didn’t fa…” I didn’t fall from the cliff, I was rescuing Gal, Brienne wanted to say but stopped herself before the words left her mouth. “I didn’t have any head injuries.”

That wasn’t strictly the truth. During the years of fighting training, Brienne got punched multiple times, including her face but she was more than sure that she was fine.

The maester nodded, however, the expression on his face indicated that he didn’t quite believe her words.

“Are you sure, lady Brienne? Nothing during your sword training?”

“No.” I have never held a sword in my life.

“As you say, my lady. Physically everything seems to be alright, I can’t see anything out of order. Except for your memory. There is nothing I can do for you now but you need a lot of rest and as few stresses as possible. Let’s just hope your memories return to you soon,” he said moving to the door.

“Ehm… maester Volden,” Brienne called him, not quite sure how she should address him.

“Yes, my lady?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

Brienne took a deep breath. It was her chance to get some clues about what was going on. If she asked the right questions…

“Where is Galladon?” Brienne started with the most important one. Despite what her father said, she couldn’t accept that. Maybe father got something wrong, maybe he was mistaken and Gal lived. Maybe… Brienne looked expectantly at the maester but the serious expression on his face killed the last tiny shreds of hope she possessed.

“He died when you were a child, my lady.”

No, Brienne wanted to scream. No, Gal was alive. They grew up together, they played together, they shared secrets, they comforted each other. She didn’t know the world without her older brother. She didn’t want to accept any world where Gal was not there.

“How about mum, Ari and Alys?”

“They died years ago.”

Brienne blinked trying to prevent new tears threatening to fall. What kind of world it was where almost all her family was dead? It was worse than any hell she could end up after dying. But Brienne was sure she lived. The intuition, the strange unfathomable feeling inside her was telling her that she was still alive. Her heart was steadily beating under her ribs and her body greedily demanded breath after breath.

“Where am I, maester?” Brienne asked in a shaking voice.

“We are on Tarth, my lady. Your homeland.”

Brienne nodded. “What year do we have?”

“It is 297 After Conquest.”

Brienne froze. No, it was impossible. She couldn’t move back over a thousand years ago. If she was told she spent decades in a coma and awaken after some sort of nuclear apocalypse, Brienne would believe that easier than the fact that she somehow traveled so long ago.

“Lady Brienne, are you well? You became pale all of a sudden.”

“I’m fine,” she replied, trying to appear unaffected by the unexpected information. “Could I ask you to tell everyone that I would like to be left alone? I think I need some rest.”

“Yes, of course, my lady,” maester Volden replied, bowing slightly.

Only when the door closed after him and Brienne was finally left alone, she let the grief and distress take over her.

#jaime x brienne #my fic: moon lovers #wip folder meme #anonymous #ask #braime fanfiction #ship: braime

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lifeofresulullah · 3 years

Text

The Life of The Prophet Muhammad(pbuh): The Assignment of the Duty of the Prophethood and First Muslims

Declaration of the Prophethood and the First Phase of the Call

A religion that would address all of humanity and embrace the entire world was not going to remain a secret for too long. Since this religion was being sent as the means through which humanity could attain both worldly and spiritual peace, it was necessary to openly convey this message to the people.

Allah has attributed everything in the universe to the law of gradualness. Those who do not submit to and abide by this law will undoubtedly become unsuccessful in due time.

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) complied with this law upon receiving a mandate from Allah. He did not openly inform the people of his prophethood and Islam for a period of three years. He was incredibly cautious and prudent in delivering his message and explained the situation only to those he fully trusted.

We see that his decision was the cause for Islam’s success. Within the three-year period of the Era of Secret Conversions, many people took their place within Islam and strengthened his cause.

After the three-year period ended, there was no further reason for this invitation to remain a secret. The polytheists of the Quraysh had more or less heard everything and the Islamic cause had garnered much strength through many people. By virtue of this, the time had come for the call to Islam and the realities of Tawhid (the doctrine in the belief of Allah’s oneness) to be openly announced to the entire world.

The Invitation to his Close Relatives

Allah informed our Holy Prophet (PBUH) through revelation on where he should begin to openly deliver the invitation:

“And admonish thy nearest kinsmen”

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) knew that this undertaking would not be easy. For this reason, he did not leave his house for some period of time. During this period, he called Hazrat Ali and said to him: “Oh Ali, Allah orders me to warn my closest relatives of the punishment in the hereafter and this is very difficult for me. I know very well that I am going to see them attempt to make accusations against me in regards to something that I do not like once I mention this matter to them.”

We see that our Holy Prophet (PBUH) was worried that he would be subjected to accusations made by his relatives once he began to openly explain his cause to them. For that reason, he deemed it appropriate to stay in his home for some time and think everything through. When Hazrat Safiyya saw that he had been absent and had not left his home for a long period of time, she went to go visit him along with his other aunts to learn about his condition. Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) said to them, “I have no complaints about anything and I am not ill. However, Allah has commanded me to warn my closest relatives of the punishment in the hereafter. I want to gather the Sons of Abdulmuttalib and invite them to testify to Allah.”

His aunts answered, “Invite them, but never dare try to invite Abu Lahab because he will never accept.” Following this, they said, “After all, we are women” and left.

Organizing a Feast!

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) then said to Hazrat Ali, “Prepare a meat dish that is enough for only one person and fill a cup with milk. Then gather the Sons of Abdulmuttalib, I want to talk with them. I am going to notify them with what I have been commanded to say.”

Hazrat Ali immediately fulfilled his order.

When morning came, all of our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) uncles, including Abu Lahab, who had not been invited, and two women amounting to a total of 45 individuals, convened in Abu Talib’s home.

A Miracle

The meat in the pot was only enough to fill one person, and so was the cup filled with milk.

The Master of the Universe (PBUH) broke the meat into pieces and said to those who were attending the feast, “Bismillah (In the name of Allah, the Most Merciful, the Most Compassionate), help yourselves!

Everyone at the feast ate from those pieces of meat until they were full. Lo and behold! What did they see? The meat remained in its place with very little missing from it.

They were amazed and began to drink from the cup filled with milk. They drank till they were satiated and they saw that the milk had not decreased. They were astonished!

After the meal was completed and just as our Holy Prophet (PBUH) was about to speak, Abu Lahab intervened and addressed the crowd: We have not seen such an instance of black magic until now. Your friend has cast a great spell upon you all.”

Afterwards, he went as far as to affront the Master of the Universe (PBUH) and bellowed loudly so as to disrupt the crowd.

The crowd dispersed before our Holy Prophet (PBUH) had the chance to speak.

The Second Visit and Allah’s Messenger’s Address to his Relatives

After that inconclusive feast, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) arranged another event and gathered his relatives through the means of Hazrat Ali.

He rose to his feet after the meal finished and said: “Praise should only be given to Allah and I praise Him. I only seek help from Him. I believe and trust on Him. Just as I am undoubtedly aware of this fact, I also make known to you that there is no god other than Allah. He is One and there is no being similar to Him.” Afterwards, he disclosed his purpose:

“Surely a person who is sent to go look for pasture would not lie to his family. By God, even if I were to have lied to the rest of humanity, I still would not have lied to you. Even if I were to have deceived everyone else, I still would not have deceived you. I invite you to testify to Allah who is the Only True God. I am His Messenger, who has been specifically sent to you, the community, and all humanity.”

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) continued to speak:

“By God, just as you fall asleep, you will also die, and just as you wake up from your sleep, you will also rise and be accounted for all of your actions. You will be rewarded for your good deeds and punished for your bad deeds. As a result, you will stay forever either in Paradise or Hell. You are the first from among the people that I have frightened with the fear of punishment in the hereafter.”

When our Holy Prophet (PBUH) finished speaking, Abu Talib rose to his feet and said, “We will help you lovingly and sincerely. We have embraced and accepted your advice and have affirmed your words. Those who have gathered here are the sons of your grandfather. Consequently, I am one of them. I swear that the person to run the quickest among all those who run to fulfill your goals will be no other than me. Continue doing what you have been commanded to do. By God, I will not refrain from surrounding and protecting you for the slightest moment. However, my soul does not obey me to abandon the religion of Abdulmuttalib. I will die as a follower of his religion.”

His other uncles also affirmed his words and did not say anything to displease our Holy Prophet (PBUH). There was only one exception, and that was Abu Lahab, who had opposed to the Islamic cause from the very beginning. He leaped forward and said, “Oh Sons of Abdumuttalib, by God this is a misfortune. Dissuade him from this before others hinder him. If you are to obey him being, you will be subjected to mortification and defamation; if you try to defend him, you will be killed.”

The brave answer to the most savage enemy of Islam came from Hazrat Safiyya: “O, brother! Does it suit you to leave your brother’s son and his religion helpless? By God, the living scholars say that a prophet is to emerge from Abdulmuttalib’s progeny. He is that Prophet!”

Abu Lahab arrogantly replied to his sister’s noble words: I swear that this hope is in vain. Besides, a woman’s words are at the level of an obstacle and a chain that is attached to a man’s foot. When the families of Quraysh and the entire Arabs riot together, what power will we have to resist them? By God, we are like a morsel that can be easily swallowed for them.”

Abu Talib was immensely annoyed by Abu Lahab’s words. “O coward” he said, “By God we are going to help and protect him as long as we live.” Afterwards, he turned to our Holy Prophet (PBUH) and said, “Oh my brother’s son, let us know when you want to deliver the invitation so we can be armed and emerge together with you!”

“Who will Help me?”

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH), who had only listened to all that was being said up until that point, rose to his feet and said: Oh Sons of Abdulmuttalib! By God, I do not know anyone else from among the Arabs who has brought something that is more auspicious and superior than that what is most beneficial for both your life here and in the hereafter, which I have brought to you. I invite you to testify to two words that are easy on the tongue and that weigh heavily on a scale: Ashhadu anlaa ilaaha illallaahu wa ashhadu anna muhammadar-rasulallah (There is no god but Allah, and Muhammad is his messenger.) Then, he asked, “In that case, which one of you accepts to become my helper and vizier by following me on this path?”

Nobody uttered a sound. All heads were bowed towards him. They were unable to find the strength to look at Allah’s Apostle (PBUH). However, there was only one person who looked very carefully into our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) eyes. And that person was Hazrat Ali, who was only 12-13 years old at the time. He rose. However, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) told him to “sit down.”

The Master of the Universe (PBUH) asked his question thrice. And only Hazrat Ali replied each time: “O Allah’s Apostle, I will help you although I am much younger than them all.”

Some pursed their lips upon hearing these words, some were amazed, and some jeeringly smiled. Afterwards, they left the meeting without taking the meeting seriously.

Hazrat Ali’s heroism and bravery at a young age made our Holy Prophet (PBUH) immensely happy. He was not sad or in despair since he could not get the result he had wished from the meeting. Only Allah could give guidance.

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 3 years

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LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

July 25, 2021

Heather Cox Richardson

Both Democratic Senator Mark Warner of Virginia and Republican Senator Rob Portman of Ohio told television hosts today that they expect an infrastructure deal on the $579 billion bill this week. Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer (D-NY) has said that he will delay the Senate’s upcoming recess until this bipartisan bill and another, larger bill that focuses on human infrastructure are passed. House Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-CA) says she will not hold a vote on the smaller infrastructure bill until the larger bill, which is a priority for Democrats, passes the Senate.

There are a lot of moving pieces in this infrastructure bill that have more to do with politics than with infrastructure.

First, what is holding up the bill in the Senate is a disagreement about the proper ratio of funding for roads and public transportation. When Congress passed the Federal-Aid Highway Act in 1956, starting the creation of 41,000 miles of interstate highways, lawmakers thought that gasoline taxes would pay for the construction and upkeep of the highways. Congress raised the gas tax four times, in 1959, 1983, 1990, and 1993. But, beginning in 2008, as fuel efficiency went up, the gas tax no longer covered expenses. Congress made up shortfalls with money from general funds.

In 1983, in order to gain support for an increase of $.05 in the gas tax from lawmakers from the Northeast who wanted money for mass transit, Congress agreed to establish a separate fund for public transportation that would get one out of every five cents collected from the gas tax. This 80% to 20% ratio has lasted ever since.

Now, Republican negotiators are demanding less money for public transportation and more for roads, sparking outrage from Democrats who note that a bipartisan agreement has stood for almost 40 years and that changing the ratio between public transportation and roads will move us backward. According to the Environmental Protection Agency, in 2019, fossil fuels used in transportation produced 29% of U.S. greenhouse gases.

Portman, the lead Republican negotiator, says that Republicans have made a “generous offer” and that it will provide a “significant increase” in transit money. "Democrats, frankly, are not being reasonable in their requests right now,” he said.

Republicans want to deliver money to rural areas where people depend on driving, even though there are far more people who live in areas that benefit from public transportation. Rural areas, of course, are far more likely than urban areas to be full of Republican voters.

Democrats in the House are eager to address climate change. On July 21, Chair of the House Committee on Transportation and Infrastructure Peter DeFazio (D-OR) and 30 Democratic members of the committee wrote to Pelosi and Schumer to urge them to include instead the terms of the INVEST in America Act the House passed on a bipartisan basis earlier this month. That bill offered a forward-looking transportation package that expanded public transportation even as it called for road and bridge repair. “We can’t afford to lock in failed highway-centric policies for another five years,” they wrote.

But there is a larger story behind this transportation bill than the attempt of Republicans to change a longstanding formula to keep themselves in power. Republicans who are not openly tying themselves to the former president want to pass this measure because they know it is popular and they do not want Democrats to pass another popular law alone, as they did with the American Rescue Plan when Republicans refused to participate.

Democratic leadership wants to work with those Republicans to pass a bipartisan bill because it will help to drive a wedge though the Republican Party, offering an exit ramp for those who would like to leave behind the increasing extremism of the Trump Republicans.

Trump Republicans are, indeed, becoming more extreme as the House’s select committee on January 6 takes shape. After the Senate rejected a bipartisan commission to investigate the insurrection, House Speaker Pelosi and the House voted to establish a select committee. Its structure was based on one of the many committees established by the Republican-controlled House to investigate the attack on U.S. government facilities in Benghazi, Libya, in 2012. It permitted the minority to name 5 members, to be approved by the Speaker.

Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy (R-CA) tried to undercut the committee by appointing three members who had challenged the counting of the certified votes on January 6, including Jim Jordan (R-OH), who was at a December meeting with Trump and other lawmakers when they discussed protesting the vote count on January 6, and Jim Banks (R-IN), who attacked the committee, saying: “Make no mistake, Nancy Pelosi created this committee solely to malign conservatives and to justify the Left’s authoritarian agenda.” When Pelosi rejected Jordan and Banks, McCarthy pulled all five of his appointees.

But Pelosi had already established the committee’s bipartisanship when she appointed Representative Liz Cheney (R-WY), a staunch Republican who voted with Trump more than 90% of the time but who openly blamed him for the January 6 insurrection. Today, Pelosi added Adam Kinzinger (R-IL) to the committee as well.

Kinzinger is an Iraq War veteran who was one of the 10 House Republicans who voted to impeach Trump in January. "Let me be clear, I'm a Republican dedicated to conservative values, but I swore an oath to uphold and defend the Constitution—and while this is not the position I expected to be in or sought out, when duty calls, I will always answer," Kinzinger said in a statement.

McCarthy promptly tweeted that the committee had no credibility because Pelosi had “structured the select committee to satisfy her political objectives.”

McCarthy is scrambling, not least because he will almost certainly become a witness for the committee.

But there is more. With Trump out of office, pressure is ramping up on those who advanced his agenda. News broke on Thursday that the FBI had received more than 4500 tips about Brett Kavanaugh during his nomination proceeding for confirmation to the Supreme Court, and had forwarded the most “relevant” of those to the White House lawyers, who buried them, enabling the extremist Kavanaugh to squeak into a lifetime appointment to the court.

In Georgia, law enforcement officers indicted 87 people in what they are calling the largest gang bust ever in the state. Seventy-seven are part of the “Ghostface Gangsters” gang of white supremacists whose network stretched from Georgia to South Carolina to Tennessee. “The gang’s culture, structure, leadership, chain of command, and all involved in the furtherance of this ongoing criminal enterprise have been charged,” law enforcement officers said.

Meanwhile, vaccinated Americans are becoming increasingly angry at the unvaccinated Trump supporters who are keeping the nation from achieving herd immunity from the coronavirus. Some Republicans are starting to call for their supporters to get vaccinated.

As pressure mounts, McCarthy is not the only one who has signed onto the post–January 6 Trump party who is ramping up his rhetoric. This weekend, when presented with a gun, Trump’s disgraced former National Security Adviser Michael Flynn told the crowd, “Maybe I’ll find somebody in Washington, D.C.”

Representative Paul Gosar (R-AZ), who has been linked to the planning for the January 6 insurrection, suggested at an Arizona rally for the former president last night that the rioters were peaceful and that the real criminals were “insiders from the FBI and DOJ.” It seems likely he is hoping to discredit those organizations before more information comes out.

At the same rally, the former president spoke for almost two hours, reiterating his lie that he won the 2020 election and suggesting he would be reinstated into the White House before the next election. (He was weirdly fixated on routers.) He blamed Arizona Governor Doug Ducey, Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell, former Vice President Mike Pence, and Kavanaugh for his loss of the White House, and praised his former lawyer Rudy Giuliani.

“The radical left Democrat communist party rigged and stole the election,” he said.

A final note tonight: We lost a great American, Bob Moses, today. I don’t want to tack him on to tonight’s letter; he deserves his own. So hold this space. Until then, Rest in Power, Dr. Moses.

—-

Notes:

https://fas.org/sgp/crs/misc/R45350.pdf

https://www.epa.gov/ghgemissions/sources-greenhouse-gas-emissions

https://transportation.house.gov/news/press-releases/chair-defazio-leads-30-transportation-and-infrastructure-committee-members-in-urging-congressional-leadership-to-include-transformational-policies-from-the-invest-in-america-act-in-infrastructure-legislation

https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/congress/transit-money-emerges-last-major-obstacle-bipartisan-senate-infrastructure-deal-n1274788

https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/congress/senators-hopeful-bipartisan-infrastructure-spending-bill-could-land-monday-n1274960

https://www.npr.org/2021/07/25/1020464213/nancy-pelosi-adam-kinzinger-january-6-committee

Ron Filipkowski @RonFilipkowskiMichael Flynn is presented with a rifle as a gift in Yuba, CA, and says that now “maybe I’ll find somebody in Washington, DC.” 609 Retweets1,212 Likes

July 25th 2021

https://www.washingtonpost.com/nation/2021/01/13/ali-alexander-capitol-biggs-gosar/

Aaron Rupar @atruparRep. Paul Gosar turns reality on its head by portraying January 6 as a mostly peaceful affair, then pushes an absurd conspiracy theory that the real criminals on that day were "insiders from the FBI and DOJ" 1,182 Retweets4,650 Likes

July 24th 2021

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/07/22/us/politics/kavanaugh-fbi-investigation.html

https://www.wrdw.com/2021/07/22/georgia-gov-kemp-will-visit-augusta-discuss-large-scale-gang-bust/

https://www.politico.com/news/2021/07/24/trump-election-claims-rally-500719

https://www.wrdw.com/2021/07/23/87-locals-charged-biggest-gang-bust-state-history/

Aaron Rupar @atruparTrump has been speaking for more than 90 minutes now. He's currently goading his audience into booing the US women's soccer team. 735 Retweets3,061 Likes

July 25th 2021

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#political #Heather Cox Richardson #Letters From An American #history #infrastructure #corrupt Gop #criminal GOP #January 6 2021 #capital insurrection

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reynesofcastamere · 4 years

Text

Surface Breach(2/3)[β]

(A/N: Good grief but it has been a while since my last contribution to the ship. Sad to say I’ve been caught up with several irl things, including moving and settling in to the new place. Rest assured, I do have several drafts in the works for other projects and I am hoping to set up a regular writing/submission schedule. Now that that’s out of the way...Warnings for: possessive behaviour, emotional manipulation, (negotiated) bondage, blindfolding, edging, cockwarming, blood, masochism and mentions of polyamory, coitus interruptus, and non-consensual play. Unbeta’d and NSFW.)

Ahsoka knows the second she sets foot on her ship that time is up. She could still flee, drag this game out a bit longer and drive up the level of his frustration...But what would be the point, really? It’s been months since they parted ways, and while she hasn’t avoided his calls, she’s also made a point of not meeting with him in person. A reprimand for his behaviour, and a reminder of the challenge she’d issued. She recalls the first, trembling breath of relief she’d taken after the medical scans were complete. He has no further hold over her than this. Nothing burrowed and secreted away beneath her skin to...Do any number of things, really. Most of which she’d rather not consider right now.

Maul is of course perfectly at ease in the pilot’s seat, already turned to face her. “Lady Tano. I trust that your last assignment was successful.” He’s being neutral, bordering on pleasant, even. But the tension is there, kept in check by the slimmest thread of restraint. “And I trust that you’re not here for small talk.” Ahsoka makes certain to keep a few feet of distance between them, arms crossed. The corner of his mouth twitches, the speed of it leaving her unsure of whether he meant to smirk or grimace. “You have business on Nar Shadaa, and I have certain...interests that need tending there.” “So you decided to catch a ride. Without asking.” “You would have refused even if I had offered compensation. This is the most expedient method of travel.” Maul’s eyes narrow, attempting to pierce through and determine her intent. “Unless you plan to run in order to spite me.” “I’m not running anywhere.” Ahsoka retorts. “But I’m also not going to spend three whole days in hyperspace...entertaining you.” “Naturally. However, when we are not occupied with tasks and other essentials, you will make good on your promise, my Lady. Now please, sit.” She takes up residence in the navigator’s seat, given that he’s obviously not willing to move. “I told you to stop calling me that.”

“What does it matter, if you are not truly mine? Just a monster’s delusion. Unless...”

“Don’t. Start. You can use either of my names. Just not...that.” “As you wish.”

Nothing else is said for some time. Even after the ship takes off, the course is set in, and space has blurred into blue lines, there are other responsibilities that need to be taken care of. Ahsoka has to stop herself from dragging out the time. She’s not looking forward to this. The discussion she needs to have with him, not what might happen afterward.

“Look, if this is going to continue, there need to be some ground rules.”

“Explain.”

“First off: Unless I’m badly injured or in immediate danger, you’re not allowed to just...carry me back to your lair, no matter what your reasons are.” He’s more than capable of coming up with a multitude of excuses to do so. Which is why she’s cutting him off at the knees, figuratively speaking. “Second: This arrangement doesn’t interfere with work. Ever. Third: I decide when anything starts. You’re not allowed to grab or molest me in any way before that.”

Maul appears mildly amused, but the small tics that betray his impatience are growing. “This seems rather excessive for a casual arrangement.”

Ahsoka pins him in place with a look and a hint of a Force hold. “I’m not finished. Fourth: Any marks left behind have to be concealable.” She’d walk away from this ‘business trip’ with more visible punctures in her than being dropped into a giant cacti forest on Yavin 13 otherwise. “Fifth: No matter how far along we are, if I say ‘kyber’, we stop what we’re doing. No questions, no persuasion, nothing. If you don’t have a safeword, then pick one and tell me.”

“Is ‘stop’ somehow inadequate?” The question is soft as she releases her unseen grasp on him. Even seated, something in him reminds her of a hunter in the moment before a kill; tense with anticipation and bloodthirst. “No.” She wets her lower lip. There’s no going back from this confession, hard as it had been for her to admit it to herself. Much less him. “When I use ‘stop’, it usually means ‘go harder’.”

Maul’s grip is practically throttling the armrest at this point. He is trying, from the shudder in his breath, to follow the rules she’s set out so far. That’s a good sign. His eyes, though? There’s a flicker in them that she used to see from the people she’d helped or rescued during the war. The ones who fully believed that the Jedi were capable of miracles and could do no wrong. A kind of...awe. Achingly soft, and in his case, almost buried beneath avarice and raw desire. She fights the urge to squirm, and it’s not entirely from discomfort. “Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“Good, ‘scimitar’ should suffice. I have some conditions of my own.” Every word is a caress, heavy and deliberate. “You are, of course, free to object.” He produces the blindfold she’d given him from within his shirt. She remembers exactly how he’d taken her apart; bound by choice and utterly enthralled. “So long as you wear this, you will obey.” Maul purrs, heat suffusing her body as he winds and pulls the fabric taut between his fingers. “I’m not going to call you ‘Master’.” Ahsoka is certain he’d like almost nothing more. She gets far too much pleasure out of denying him, however. So he’ll have to earn it first.

“Yet.” Maul responds, overconfident ass that he is. “I have no desire for you to dull your tongue. But you will submit to my commands.” He leans in, nearly closing the gap between them, but not quite. “Such as if I tell you to get down on your knees and show me how you pleasure yourself.” He’s only saying it to provide an example, yet her thighs rub together all the same at the thought. Sightless, her cunt exposed and dripping while he watches, giving obscene praise and instructions on how to bring herself to orgasm.

“Should you want to take control, all you need do is remove it. Or ask that it be taken off.” Of course he’s not done yet. Has to finish having his say first, and bring her arousal to a fever-pitch with the only options currently allowed. “Any amount of marks you receive from other paramours, I will match in number, and I will take first priority.” There is a jealous glint, a madness in his eyes that should terrify her. “Regardless of your position and how close your mutual release is.” Ahsoka sucks in a sharp breath. “You really expect me to just...make someone leave while they’re-” “Yes.” Maul snarls, hushed and vicious in a way that brooks no refusal. Much as she might like to, if she does not compromise, give some inch of ground...He will lash out. Ultimately, he’s not asking for much. So far. “And should you draw a weapon on me again-” His left hand circles her jaw without actually making contact, though the intent is clear. “-be prepared to use it.” Her gaze falls to his throat, his markings almost concealing the burn scar she’d given him. But not quite. That he’d chosen to keep it at all is- “Do we have an agreement, Ahsoka Tano?”

A small eternity seems to pass between her indrawn breath and the resulting answer. “Yes.” Ahsoka looks at him again without fear. Straight into the eyes of the monster, the murderer, the tyrant she has and will be taking into her bed for the forseeable future. “Go ahead.” The first kiss is nothing short of a conquest, taken with broken vocalizations and sharp bites. She lets him pull her in, straddling his lap in the pilot’s seat while they break for air, and offering no resistance when he ties the blindfold securely in place. “Undress. Completely.” Softer now, his lips ghosting along her jawline. It takes a bit of effort, but before long she is bared to him, nipples pebbled from arousal, the air, and the cold presence of the Dark Side. The body beneath her, the bare hands that trace and mould her form are nearly white-hot by comparison. “Perfect...Turn around, and place your hands behind my neck.” Ahsoka obeys, shuddering in pleasure as he purrs. The cuffs he attaches to her wrists are made of some kind of leather, and she instinctively tests the give of the metal chain between them. Sturdy, but nothing she can’t break out of.

The position leaves her undeniably exposed and at his mercy. She expects none, yet he grants it anyway. With each stroke, squeeze, and tug of his fingers down her body, he steadily tunes her nerves to exquisite sensitivity. He never quite touches her core, preferring to caress and grip her inner thighs and the curve of her breasts even as she pants and shifts restlessly. She can feel him against her, hard and unyielding, the cloth barrier separating them gradually being saturated with her essence. And still he makes no effort to hurry things along. “I thought you wanted to -haaaaahhhh- punish me for making you wait this long.” “You made a game of testing my patience. It is only fitting that I return the favour. I will keep you here, on the precipice between agony and bliss...Until, in your desperation, you beg me to ‘stop’.” Maul pinches her throbbing bud and she whines an incoherent stream of vowels. “Although...Hm. Your impulsive side is endearing.”

“What are you rambling on ab-AnnnnnH!” He bites down on her shoulder while slightly twisting the bundle of nerves held captive between his digits. She’s bleeding and the pain between her legs is pure torture, but she still wants-

‘I will grant your release early. If you ask to be fucked.” “You can’t be serious.” “Three simple words are all that stand in your way.”

“Why not just order me to say it?”

“Why should I, when you so clearly want to? Despite your self-denial.” There’s no longer anything gentle about his touch, how his nails dig in and rake across her inner thighs while her shoulders and upper back gain a rapidly-growing collection of teeth-marks. His shaft is still there, still covered and rigid, rubbing against her hot and sodden core. Ahsoka is on the verge of sobbing. Or breaking her restraints to just seize what he’s dangling in front of her. But if all it takes is a couple of words...”Please, fuck me.” She whispers, rough from repressing her whimpers.

“Again.” His lips on her throat, feeling the command rumbling against her vocal cords.

She grits her teeth and snarls. “Fuck. Me. Please. You smug, overbearing bastard.” Maul’s fingers curve over and tug her recently-abused pearl, and she is lost, sent tumbling and screaming into the abyss.

Her body is still quivering in the aftermath when he presses in. A slow invasion, one that encounters no resistance until he is fully secured within her walls. At first, she thinks he just wants her to ride him. Yet before she can start... “I will give you a choice.” Maul’s voice is low enough to feel in her bones. “If you can keep relatively still for fifteen minutes, you will be taken against the control panel. And if you are very good, Ahsoka-” Her name on his lips is electric and scandalous, her body arching as if pulled by unseen strings. “-I will get down on my knees and devour you first.” She should never have given him permission to use it in the first place. His other...’endearments’ are easy to brush off. Somehow, hearing those three syllables in this moment is more intimate than having him inside her, feeling the incremental shifts between their bodies with each breath.

Ahsoka raises herself up, almost to the point of letting his shaft slip out, then drops back down. She can feel him hiss, how his hips jolt up on instinct once before he stops himself. “Mmmm. Think your other option is bad enough to stop me from putting this to better use?” She’s teasing now, circling and rolling her hips in a way that takes him deep, but not all the way in again. Having Maul relatively immobile is a new experience. Even when he’s not being rough, he’s hardly still. It probably won’t last, but so long as his patience holds out...Using him like a sex toy is doing a lot to rev her up right now. He seizes her head-tail and pulls, bending Ahsoka’s neck back at an uncomfortable angle, free hand grasping one of her thighs to force a stop to her movements. “Keep this up and I assure you, ja’ti mirtis{my death}, you will not enjoy sitting when I am done with you.” Maul rasps, his mouth so close to her left montral that she can feel his lips brushing against it with every word. Her core trembles, breath coming in short, sharp pants. “I wonder which would bring you more pleasure? Being bent over the edge of your cot to be mounted and used...Or disciplined until that option becomes a mercy?” Something like insanity seizes her. It’s the only explanation for what she says next. “Both.” Ahsoka breathes. “I want-Take these off, please.” The light is harsh for the few seconds it takes her eyes to adjust, wrists slightly chafed from the cuffs as she carefully turns to face him. “I need both.” Her hands gently circle his face. “Can you do that? Get me ready with your mouth, and take me nice and slow right here?” He seems transfixed, almost unable to believe the words falling from her lips. “Think of how wet I’ll be, when you’ve finished your ‘discipline’ and I’m just aching to be ruined.” Ahsoka can taste the hunger when he captures her mouth, how similar it is to her own. Her nails claw at his shoulderblades, seeking purchase, to bury herself in him, anything. “Yes, Ahsoka.” Maul whispers, between their lips meeting in repeated, feverish collisions. “You have only to ask.” (A/N: Some of you may have noticed a slight change in the numbers up top. So yes, there will be one more chapter to this particular story. 8D Cheers, everyone!)

#maulsoka #ns.fw #this might just be the kinkiest thing i've written so far #time will tell though lol

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scotianostra · 4 years

Photo

September 13th 1644 saw The Battle of Aberdeen, in which the Marquis of Montrose captured the city.

Also called The Battle of Justice Mills and the Crabstane Rout this was anothe stunning victory for James Graham.

On the Royalist side, Montrose – a seasoned and clever commander – led some 1,500 troops, including Alasdair Mac Colla’s Irish veterans and an admittedly meagre fifty cavalry. His army was somewhat reduced in the aftermath of his assault on Perth, but it had won the day there and morale was high.

The Covenanters were led by Lord Burleigh, as well as by a bewildering array of Civic authorities and other interested parties. Comprising 2,500 men including a respectable detachment of cavalry and the Fife Regiment, the Covenanter army had weight of numbers, though it was hampered, as ever by a somewhat tangled chain of command.

As well as this, a regiment of 3,000 Gordons had been turned away from the Covenanter army on account of personal squabbles amongst the commanding officers. Choosing the ground, the defenders elected to fight in the open rather than retreat within the un-fortified streets of Aberdeen, blocking Montrose’s approach to the Burgh from the most commanding position available on that road – the hill at Justice Mills. Now all but invisible in modern Aberdeen, this hill once offered an army a chance to strike at any foe on the low ground on the western approach of the Hardgate. Finding an army drawn up against him, Montrose sent a letter to advise the townsfolk of Aberdeen of his terms, it read;

Loveing freindes Being heir, for the maintenance of Religion and liberty and his Maiesties just authority and service thes ar, in his Maiesties name to requyre you that immediately, upon the sight heirof you, rander and give up your towne In the behalf of his Maiestie Otherwayes that all old persons women and children doe come out and reteire themselfs, and that those who stayes expect no quarter I am as you deserve. - Montrose.

Aberdeen was to be given up to him entire or all who resist were to receive no quarter. His terms seem harsh to modern minds – and harsh they were – but Montrose fought his war on strict rules, and the protocols for attacking a city differed little in 17th Century Europe to those set forth in the old testament of the bible, Chapter 20 of Deuteronomy. Peace was to be offered and, if forsaken, all men of that city were to be put to the sword.

His terms were given to the people of Aberdeen in the company of "some gentlemen and a drummer." The Council drafted a reply, but it was not to reach Montrose under a flag of truce, for the drummer was shot dead whilst returning to his lines, ostensibly by a Covenanter horseman. Montrose was incensed and, giving the townsfolk no time to withdraw, ordered the attack.

Hastily assembled militias of Aberdeen and Fife were no match for the Irish and the battle was soon over. A spirited charge at the press of the militia soon broke the defenders’ spirits and the Covenanters withdrew shortly after noon. The retreat to the imagined safety of Aberdeen turned into a rout and the triumphant Royalists killed 160 as they overtook the fleeing Covenanters.

Indignant, Montrose agreed to let his troops plunder Aberdeen, and the Council Registers tell a terrible tale;

“the enemie entring the toune immediatelie, did kill all, old and young, whome they fand on streittes.”

Three days of terrible violence followed, and throughout the war no other Burgh would suffer as Aberdeen had until the sack of Dundee in 1651.

Montrose was to march throughout the Highlands between 1644 and 1645, winning further victories before finally meeting defeat, at Philiphaugh, 1 year to the day after his victory at Aberdeen, more on that later.............

#Scotland #scottish #battle #history

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eyesofsteelandsky · 3 years

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Too Good To Pass Up

First in a series of story posts related to an on-going effort to restore Brem’s eye. Includes violence and blood. Future stories will have a LOT more of both.

The crunch of sand under the heavy, pacing bootfalls had almost withered its way into being as much white noise as the occasional lapping of the mild tide in the long stretch of waiting. Several well-worn lines and circular trails around the heavy crate she had been watching over marked Brem’s impatient path. Even with the more frequent visits and having been in the area for the better part of a week now, the East’s winds and seas didn’t bring that same feeling of home as the sandy beaches of La Noscea. As she was settling into the internal debate if they were the comforts of a stranger, or simply she was the stranger in someone else’s comforts, a familiar pudgy figure called out from the tunnel into the small cove.

“Miss Abylnpfefwyb! I’m so glad to see you learned punctuality since our first meeting! And I do see you came alone as well. Were it that everyone in our business that could take instruction so well.” The bespeckled Hingashi hyur made his way forward from that cave passage, waving at those behind him to start filtering in. An entourage including a handful of muscle, some set with swords on their hips and others with long rifles. The last threw were a pair escorting a thinly, if particularly tall woman in cuffs. Though the woman’s long hair hung over most of her face, there were still clearly a few bruises over the visible portions of her cheeks. “I do believe you’ll find that the merchandise is exactly what you asked for. I do hope my.. adjustment in payment wasn’t too demanding.”

“I wouldn’t want you walking away from this thinking I didn’t respect you, Kubo. Like the obvious respect your rather extensive negotiation assistants clearly represents for me.” One of the sea wolf’s gloved hands grips the front of the crate she had been pacing around for so long, letting it crash forward firmly enough to erase much of her trail from the sand. A faint blue glow illuminates the machinery with, as well as the pair of tanks at the back end. “One Garlean magitek engine and enough ceruleum to get any prospective magitek business’s R&D going. Though as far as I can tell what you’ve brought is a tall woman with a black eye..” The Hingan man’s smile stretched so broad it threatened to chase his hairline even further into retreat as he snapped his fingers to have the captive brought forward. Once the muscled pair had her close enough to present they forced her to hunch forward so Kubo could raise his hand to push her hair up and out of the way, revealing the Garlean third eye in her forehead. “I believe you’ll find she has two entirely untouched eyes, even if the one looks more like a clam spit it into her head. “May I present Fulcinia lux Protus. Or is the ‘lux’ reserved for those who aren’t traitors to the empire? Ijin naming habits are so hard to keep track of..” The woman in question turns the eye that isn’t swollen shut or in the middle of her forehead out Brem’s way, but it’s clear any desire to resist had already been beaten out of her.

“Looks like short of tossing an Allagan puzzle for her to solve at your feet, I’ll have to take your word on it. I -am- rather disappointed that you’re asking full price for damaged goods.” Several heavy strides draw her pointedly away from the crated engine, with one hand waved back towards the man’s payment. “Though seeing as I can’t imagine paying with most of an engine is going to work, perhaps you’ll consider a friendly discount the next time we do business?”

“Oh, of course, of course. We’ll take a bit right off the top next time, as a show of good faith. The man’s smile lingers on as he snaps his fingers again and the Garlean woman was drug over Brem’s way, with one of the burly xaela men escorting her offering the chains of the woman’s cuffs forward. “Though there is one thing I should mention, I suppose..”

“While I do so greatly appreciate the business you’ve brought me today, Miss Abylnpfefwyb, you do have to know the value of what we have here in this bay. A woman who’s made a fortune blowing Garleans out of the sky, here with a traitor and and a salvaged ship engine. Do you have any idea how much that trio of treasure would be worth, even to a fractured empire?” Kubo raised his hands and gave a loud clap, leading to several fully armored Garlean soldiers to pour through the cave tunnel into the cove, as well as the magitek whirr of several armors, predators, and vanguards activating and stepping up from the rocky ridge, and several of the true constructs walking up out of the hiding places within the waters behind the sea wolf. “And I’m afraid if I have to choose between long term business partners with an army, or a bitchy sky pirate with a superiority complex, it’s not so hard a choice. Now then, you can come peacefully or we these fine imperials can take home the obsidian we can blast you into. Your choice.”

Her fingers curl around the chain she was holding, drawing that single teal eye up from the woman she was here for to the shit-eating grin being beamed down at her by the triumphant hyur. “It’s a good trap, well sprung Kubo. Even I know better to take on everything you’ve brought with you by myself. So there’s not really any choice is there? Though I must say..” The warm leather her hand was bound in subtly tightens it’s grips over Fulcinia’s bindings once more. “There’s an important talent in our kind of negotiations. The ability to recognize the look in someone’s eye when they’ve decided to piss on a good thing. And you, Kubo, don’t hide that look well.”

Though his expression soured briefly as she spoke, eventually a laugh burst from the Hingan’s chest, waving both arms out at the overwhelming force he’d brought along with him. “And what good has that ‘talent’ brought you, pirate cunt? You’ll leave here chained like her and I’ll be spending my imperial coin before the day is done!”

“The thing is, those who don’t hide it well usually don’t know to look for it themselves.” A swift yank sent the bound Garlean flying past her to land face-first into the sand as aether went ripping around the pale pirate’s other hand, eventually forming a spear that went flying towards the engine and it’s crate, landing in a pipe that fed the ceruleum tanks into the engine. Immediately after she flung herself on top of Fulcinia and immediately forcing the aether around her into plate after plate to drop onto the pair.

A few stray rounds from Kubo’s riflemen made it past the initial defense, one even tore into the roegadyn’s shoulder, but as she’s finishing the cocoon of protection the magical spear she’d flung erupts into flame, rushing into the pair of tanks. There’s a brief hiss of build up before the engine and its fuel supply violently burst, catching the swordsmen rushing forward in the explosion while the concussive wave slams into the rest of the crowd within the enclosed cove, knocking a few unconscious outright while others are simply sent flying backwards onto the ground.

With the signal sent and received, the roar of an airship’s engine announces the presence of the pirate’s vessel only moments before it rose into view from its hiding place among several several sea vessels. The First Mate was already shouting the command to fire as the heavy Garlean machinery on the ridge tries to whip around and chase the mobile arial target, catching each in a steady stream of cannon fire. Shouts of retreat from both Kobu’s men and their Garlean cohorts sounded almost immediately, though it wasn’t slowing the fire from the ship above.

Though the heavy aether around them distorted the sound, the shift in the battle, it was enough to get Brem to drop the spell and yank the chained Garlean up with her. “You want out of this alive? You come with me.” The intensity of her rushed words, half of a metal face, and the battle raging yalms away was enough to get a bobbly-headed nod from the shell-shocked woman as the pair rushed past the burning wreckage of the engine crate. With one arm wrapped around Fulcinia’s core as best she could manage, the roegadyn flung the other upward with another ripple of aether, launching the familiar shape of a frog tongue up to an anchor built onto the side of her ship. As soon as the magical shape tried to pull back, the anchor itself whirred to life and instead yanked back with equal force so that the sea wolf and her ‘cargo’ were hauled rapidly skyward, tumbling out onto the main deck of her airship.

“Welcome aboard, Cap’n! Orders?” The bright faced First Mate flashed that energetic and occasionally frustrating grin down to the bleeding pile of roegadyn.

There’s a snarl as she hauled herself up to her feet, motioning down to Fulcinia. “Get her below deck, keep someone with her and get that eye looked at.” Stalking over to the weapon rack on a nearby wall she yanked a long rifle free, stepping to the edge of the deck to raise it. Aiming one-eyed always had it’s challenges, but hours of practice and a burning pit of fury in her stomach steadied her hand. One loud crack of gunpowder and the paunchiest of the figure’s fleeing the beach collapsed just short of the tunnel out, blood flowing readily from the freshly formed hole in his throat. “Get us the fuck out of her. Once she’s cleaned up, me and my ‘guest’ are takin’ the ‘cutter. You need to get the ship back to home port before the Garleans start swarmin’.”

#Brem #ffxiv roleplay #Air Pirate shenanigans #Eye Plot

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avidbeader · 4 years

Text

New Sheith Fic

Probably rated T, but we’ll see.

VLD post-S8, but Allura lives and the endcards are thrown on a trash heap where they belong

This is the fic thread I’ve been posting to Twitter for the last few days. Thought I’d share here as well. It’s between 1/3 and 1/2 done at this point. It will get to AO3 eventually once it’s finished and beta’ed.

I just got this idea of something that the Atlas might do in a given situation and ran with it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first couple of requests were reasonable. A real-time updated roster of the Atlas crew made sense for both organizational and security purposes. A record of the ship’s known offensive and defensive capabilities was necessary as the admirals and generals developed strategies for any potential threats, minimal though they might be after Voltron’s defeat of Honerva.

The order to have a Garrison official installed as their liaison made Shiro pause, but only for a moment. On the one hand, there were already several crew members on board who performed that role: Sam, Mitch, Veronica, himself. On the other hand, it was not unwarranted for the Garrison to have a point person for communication purposes so as not to add an extra burden to the duties of any one crew member. If Shiro had tried to keep up with every Garrison inquiry or notification on top of his own duties as captain, he probably would have gone to the Black Lion and begged to be taken back to the astral plane. This would take one thing off his plate without pushing more responsibility on any member of the command staff.

But when a General Stone reported to him, demanding both quarters in the same section as the senior bridge crew and an office next to Shiro’s ready room, his hackles rose instinctively. Atlas’ presence in the back of his head, usually a quiet and cheerful sensation, grew wary like a wild animal sensing a predator.

“Given that this was only communicated to us today, you’ll have to make do in guest quarters until we are able to make arrangements, General. I didn’t expect anyone to be appointed, much less arrive so soon.”

Which meant that someone in the Garrison hadn’t wanted to give them time to ask questions or protest the decision. And the fact that a general was assigned to a position that should have gone to a lieutenant at most was unsettling.

Stone growled at him. “This lack of preparedness is the kind of thing that I’m here for. As one of the Garrison’s most valuable assets, the Atlas must be primed and ready for action at any given time.”

It took Atlas a moment to identify what the general meant, but Shiro knew immediately when she understood. There was now an angry cat hissing and spitting in his mind and it was taking everything Shiro had to maintain a polite expression.

“It’s not a lack of preparedness when information is not provided in a timely manner,” he retorted. The general reared back slightly, taken aback that Shiro had not immediately accepted the criticism.

Shiro pressed a button on a small console in his desk for show, but Atlas had already found the ship’s senior steward and asked him through his datapad to report to Shiro’s ready room. Before the general could form a response, he continued. “I’m sure you remember this from your protocol training, General, but bear in mind that aboard a ship, the captain is the ranking officer. You are welcome to observe and advise, but you are not part of the chain of command.”

Stone’s eyes narrowed and he entered something on the datapad in his hand. It beeped and he frowned. “What’s the matter with the connectivity here? My message didn’t go through!”

The malicious giggle that only he could hear was answer enough for Shiro. “I expect your device will need to go through a security clearance. Mention it to—” Shiro paused as his door opened before the steward could signal his presence “—the steward. Lieutenant Rasal, this is General Stone. He’s been assigned to us by the Garrison and will need quarters and an office when you are able to arrange it. In the meantime, could you escort him to an available space in the guest accommodations?”

The lieutenant nodded, the flash of a dimple in his cheek the only sign that he understood what Shiro was not saying. As the officer in charge of organizing lodging, supplies, and maintenance aboard the ship, he knew better than most what the Atlas was capable of. If she cared to, she could have produced everything Stone was demanding within minutes. Shiro was honoring her choice not to, and Rasal followed his captain’s lead. He saluted and held out a guiding hand.

“If you’ll come with me, sir.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stone’s presence had an immediate and negative impact. He began by insisting on a full tour of the ship with Shiro. He complained constantly about the randomness of his datapad connection, too focused to pick up on the fact that Atlas was only letting neutral and positive reports get through. When Shiro convinced her that yes, she had to make him an office and a set of quarters, Atlas’ response was to make an office, not much bigger than a broom closet on the opposite side of the bridge from Shiro’s ready room, and a minimal set of quarters, as far away from Shiro as possible while still in the section for the command staff.

Stone’s next step was to observe, watching the normal routines of the crew. It made everyone nervous and more prone to mistakes. Even the oldest, most seasoned officers like Sam and Mitch were side-eying Stone when he was on the bridge. Shiro made time to circulate through the ship so he could reassure his crew that they had done nothing wrong. He noticed a sharp drop in the number of people hanging out in the common areas or lounges as any socializing shifted to rooms behind closed doors, out of Stone’s sight.

The Taujeerians made a formal request for the Atlas to map a nearby star system for potential relocation sites when their planet next went through its renewal cycle. Keith took advantage of the deep-space mission to run training drills with the lions and the MFEs, improving their teamwork and response times. Stone seemed especially interested in the paladins, having noticed how their quarters were all on the same hall as Shiro’s.

Shiro was in one of the conference rooms, talking with Baujal and his council, when Atlas nudged him, then sounded an alert on his datapad. He quickly excused himself and headed down to the Black Lion’s hangar.

He walked in on a shouting match between Stone, the paladins, and the MFE pilots. As he crossed to where they were gathered, he scanned their faces. Stone and Lance were nose-to-nose, yelling at one another, with Nadia backing up Lance. Keith, Allura, and James were clustered together. The others were watching closely, all in various stages of anger or irritation.

“...and I’ll see all of you court-martialed for this insubordination!”

“As their captain, I would appreciate knowing what your complaint is against Commander Griffin and his squad.” Shiro’s voice cut through the quarrel like a knife.

“These squads are refusing my direct order! I need to observe them in action and Kogane says he won’t permit me to board his ship!”

Shiro glanced at Keith, who cocked an eyebrow at him. He had held onto his temper and let Lance as his second lead the outburst against the general. Shiro’s pride in his best friend surged, knowing that just a few years ago Keith would have been the one shouting first.

“General, it is absolutely within Commander Kogane’s rights to refuse you access to the Black Lion. The Voltron team is not part of the Garrison—”

Stone interrupted him with a squawk of disbelief. “Since when?”

“Since always,” Allura interjected, her voice full of ice. “Voltron represents the Coalition and agreed to use the Atlas as one of our bases for ease of coordinating our efforts to build on the peace we have created. You may not simply demand access to any lion and expect to be obeyed without question.” Shiro noticed that Allura had used her shape-shifting abilities to make herself several inches taller than usual and she used that height advantage to glare down at the general.

“And as today’s drills are a joint exercise with the MFEs, you are not permitted to ride along with Commander Griffin. If he and Captain Shirogane give permission, you can observe the MFEs another time,” Keith added.

“I don’t need permission! I am—”

“Here to facilitate communication between the Atlas and the Garrison, or so I was told,” Shiro interrupted. “Unless there is a secondary agenda that has been kept from me, your remit doesn’t include breathing down the necks of my crew or our allies. You’ve been overstepping your role for days and it ends now.”

Stone drew himself to his full height, which meant he was eye level to Shiro’s collarbones, and snarled, “We’ll just see about this, Captain.”

His attempt at stalking out of the hangar was ruined when Black let out a menacing growl and Stone jumped in alarm.

Once he was gone, everyone began to relax. Shiro noticed that Keith’s stance was still rigid and went over to him, laying a soothing hand on one shoulder. “You okay?”

“We will be. Didn’t expect we’d have a battle before we even got in our ships.” Keith turned to Lance and Nadia. “Thank you both for stepping up.”

“No problem,” Nadia chirped. “He’s a puffed-up toad.”

“And now that he’s gone, we need to get back to work. These joint exercises will continue until further notice since we need to take advantage of our current situation.” Evil grins broke out as everyone understood what Keith was doing. “Do we need to go over today’s plan again?”

“Nah, we got this,” Pidge replied before throwing a glance Shiro’s way. “Thanks for coming, Captain.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took four days for Stone’s message to the Garrison to get through, and another two days of Shiro showing the general his message inbox as proof that he had no instructions to discipline any of the MFEs. Stone’s temper was running high, as he had received a reprimand of his own from the Coalition over his attempt to assert jurisdiction over an ally’s representatives. The fact that that message had been received within hours only added to Stone’s fury.

Once Shiro finally got the orders that he was to punish all four MFE pilots for their insubordination, he met them before their usual workout routine and instructed them to run twenty extra laps around the track in the Atlas’ enormous gym. The squad’s groans turned to glee when they turned around and saw that the length of the track had been shrunk to a fifth of its usual size.

That evening, Keith tapped on the door that connected his quarters to Shiro’s.

Shiro looked up from the reports he was reading and frowned. “You knocked. What’s wrong?”

“Got a message from Kolivan. They found a ship of former Galra soldiers turned mercenary, and they’ve been hired by one side on a planet dealing with a pair of feuding lords. He wants to stop the conflict now before it spreads.”

“Should I—”

“No.” Keith shook his head. “If the Blades go in with stealth and take out the mercs, that puts the two sides at stalemate again and the planetary government might finally contact the Coalition for help. Then we can officially come in to negotiate a settlement.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.” Shiro reached out a hand and Keith took it, letting Shiro draw him into a tight hug as usual. And as usual, Shiro resisted doing or saying anything more. “Be careful.”

“You, too. I don’t like leaving you with that Garrison watchdog.”

“He’s here as a liaison.”

“He’s here to find a reason to ground Atlas.”

Even as Shiro shook his head at Keith’s statement, he could feel Atlas’ alarm. “No, that would be just about the worst move the Garrison could make. The Coalition planets recognize two major factors right now that ended the Galra Empire: Voltron and the Atlas. Taking one away would make the Garrison the new intergalactic villain.”

“Not forever, but long enough to figure out how to put someone else in command of her. They need you and Coran and Sam—hell, probably Iverson and Veronica, too—off her bridge so they can have complete control of her, including all her battle capability.”

“I mean...we do need to figure that out, if for no other reason because I will have to retire someday, but there’s no rush.” Shiro struggled to keep his expression mild as he dealt with twin reactions. He ran his hands along Keith’s arms to allay the sudden tension there and

mentally tried to soothe Atlas, who was almost screeching in fury as she surrounded him possessively.

Ironically, the strength of her reaction made Shiro stop and wonder if maybe the Garrison didn’t have a point. After all, he couldn’t lead Atlas forever. He might have done the impossible once thanks to Black and Allura, but humans still had limited lifespans. But surely the Garrison brass, if they were considering the options already, would talk to him about possibilities?

“Just keep an eye on your six while I’m gone, okay?” Keith squeezed his shoulder.

“I will.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He swung the sword as wide as he could, trying to hit as many opponents as possible as he forced them back.The roar of the spectators droned like machinery, a persistent buzz in the back of his head as he tried to reduce the impossible odds. Who had decided to punish him this way, with a dozen opponents? Was this the match where he finally died?

He shifted tactics, the sword in his hand shrinking back into a dagger. He took advantage of his smaller stature and dove between the legs of the nearest adversary, using him as a temporary shield against the others and slicing one quick stroke through the thigh above the cuisse. He spared a lightning-quick thought to thank the universe for giving the majority of bipedal beings a femoral artery.

He continued to dodge, eluding their attacks and striking at any weak point he saw. Suddenly there was only one enemy between him and an open path to the door and he dealt a vicious cut across the throat as he made his bid to escape.

Something struck and wrapped around him from behind, dragging him to the floor. He had just enough time to press the communicator at his wrist and signal the others to leave before the cord electrified, ripping screams from him before he blacked out—

Shiro shot upright, gasping for breath and fighting the covers that were tangled around him. There were sounds, the ordinary hum of the dim nightlights, his datapad beeping an alert, a furious pounding coming from somewhere in the next room...and an engine’s roar.

The Atlas was moving at top speed.

Shiro freed himself from the bedclothes and staggered to his feet. He grabbed the datapad and looked at the message, a priority one from the night comms officer—Cullen, Cuddy, something that began with C—stating that the Atlas had changed course about fifteen minutes before and was at full throttle. The bridge crew was locked out of all of the controls.

Shiro reached across the room with his prosthesis and snatched his robe from its hanger before moving into the sitting area. Once there, he identified the pounding as someone knocking furiously on the door to his quarters. Voices were coming from the hallway and they all sounded angry.

He pressed the control and the door slid open. General Stone staggered when his obstacle vanished, wrenching himself back upright from the momentum.

“Shirogane! What’s the meaning of the course change? You weren’t scheduled to be done with the Taujeerians for another forty-eight hours!”

The paladins were behind him, shouting at him for waking them all up. Shiro looked back down at his datapad and noticed a second new message below the one from the bridge. He opened it and felt the blood drain from his face.

It was two brief sentences from Kolivan: Mission a trap. Keith has been taken.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What do you mean, you can’t stop the ship? It’s a SHIP! You’ve got two Holts right here that can supposedly hack anything that beeps! Break the security codes and set a new course for Earth!”

Shiro had been walking briskly down a hallway, Atlas subtly cutting the distance to the bridge, and trading messages with Kolivan to coordinate a rendezvous point with the remaining Blades on the mission team, Krolia, and a squad of Coalition fighters led by Matt. He stopped short, so abruptly that Hunk ran into him, and stared at the general.

“Earth? What makes you think we’d go to Earth at a time like this? We’re going to rescue Commander Kogane!”

“You said it yourself, Voltron isn’t part of the Garrison!” Stone flapped a hand at the other paladins who had been trailing them. “So let them go take care of the situation! We’ve got to fix this malfunction immediately and since the ship was built by the Garrison, that’s the best place to go to do the repairs!”

Shiro couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt such a wave of derision. The mental image of Atlas in robot form and rolling her eyes brought him to the edge of hysterical giggles. It was verging on too much for him to handle.

Allura must have seen something in his face. She grabbed Stone by the collar and yanked him back before he could crowd into Shiro and continue his tirade. “If you are going to be so ridiculously focused on procedure in a situation this urgent, then consider this the formal request from the Coalition to the Atlas for support in a rescue operation!”

Stone tried to twist out of her grip and she hoisted him up until his toes barely touched the deck. His face grew red as he snarled, “Captain, I am ordering you to dismiss this group except for Katie Holt and turn all your efforts to retaking control of your ship!”

Pidge’s expression grew dangerous. Shior shifted and put one hand on her shoulder, willing her to hold her temper.

“As I told you the day you arrived, General, you are not part of the chain of command here. Your role is to keep both us and the Garrison informed of what the other needs to share. And you have not performed that role faithfully.

“The Coalition has every right to call on the Atlas. It was built from plans given to us by the Alteans and is powered by the crystal that houses the remains of their flagship. They have just as much claim to it as the Garrison does. We will lead the operation to recover Commander Kogane and you can inform the Garrison of our status. After that, you have two choices; you can stay in your quarters or be escorted to the brig until this operation is concluded. Which will it be?”

Stone stared at him, open-mouthed. Allura shook him, rattling his teeth with her strength. “You heard the captain. Which will it be? We have more important issues to deal with.”

“I am your superior officer and—”

Before Shiro could even bring up his datapad, much less start a message requesting assistance from security, a faint shimmer formed around Stone and Allura released her hold, skipping back nimbly. The general surged forward and bounced off the force field Atlas had brought up.

The paladins laughed as Stone began pounding his fists against the barrier. Allura smothered her giggles into her hand and looked at Shiro. “Shall we leave him here for the moment?”

Shiro was busy silently arguing with Atlas that, no, she could not open a portal in the floor and jettison the man into space. He gave one more psychic push, adding aloud, “Leave him here for now. We’ll take care of him later.”

They moved quickly to the bridge to find Sam and Coran with their heads together over one of the nav panels and the rest of the bridge crew huddled uneasily in the center. Sam brightened as he saw them enter. “Shiro! The Atlas has locked everyone out—”

Shiro stepped up to his position and laid both hands on the panels. He focused, trying to form a request to let the bridge crew access their stations in as clear and simple of terms as possible. He heard shouts of surprise in the background as the connection solidified and Atlas drew him in.

His hands were cuffed behind him. Two of the “mercenaries” dragged him from a pod into a hangar of a battleship, pausing in front of a Galra commander. The commander seized him by the throat and growled, “You’re almost certainly the right one, judging from your size, but let’s be sure. Drop your mask, Blade.”

He paused, just long enough to spark a reaction. The commander’s grip tightened. “Drop the mask or I tear it off. The druids want you alive, but they didn’t say that you had to be uninjured.”

He let the mask disappear and glared at his captor, who pulled his head up by his hair to study his face carefully.

“It’s him. Put him in a cell and double the guard on it.” The commander raised his wrist comm and opened a channel. “Set course for the Alvega system.”

The scene dissolved around Shiro, melding into the blue circuits that would surround him when the ship morphed into its robot form. Already he could sense Atlas changing course, plotting an intercept of the Galra battle cruiser.

We need to meet with the others. We need the Blades’ intel. We need Krolia and Kosmo. We need the backup from the Coalition.

You need him. Why do you waste time?

We need a plan. We need support. We can’t get him back safely if we just charge in.

Not fast enough.

The ship shuddered around him and Shiro grabbed the console to stay on his feet, his awareness of the bridge and its occupants returning. He rubbed at his temples with his left hand, trying to ground himself in reality once more.

“Shiro, how did you do that?” Coran shouted above the others’ reactions.

“Do what?”

“A wormhole...you took us through a wormhole, Shiro.” Allura spoke slowly, in shock.

The main viewscreen lit up, showing Kolivan and Krolia in two panels. Kolivan nodded, hiding any surprise he might be feeling. “Good, you’re early. Permission to dock our ships, captain?”

Shiro nodded, before remembering he had a voice. “Of course. Then we’ll get the Coalition ships and head for the Alvega system. That’s where they’re taking Keith.”

He closed his eyes and planted his hands on the control panel once more. Atlas, what are you doing?

You need him.

Yes, we need him. He’s the leader of Voltron. He’s a commander in the Blades.

YOU need him.

He...he’s my best friend.

More than need.

Image after image flooded past Shiro, showing him all the stages of his life that included Keith. The Garrison and Keith becoming his best friend there. The long nights as a prisoner, sustained by memories of Keith and the hope to escape and return to him. Reuniting, only to be dragged into the middle of an interstellar war and then killed. Brought back against impossible odds, with faint memories of what it had cost Keith to accomplish that.

He needs you. You need him.

Yes.

Then we get him back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued...

#voltron #sheith #sheith fic #avid writes #vld shiro #vld atlas #yes it's another save Keith situation #I do have a brand

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lovely-little-whumpee · 4 years

Note

Hey! I'm loving your writing, you're talented! May i request, caretaker collapsing after rescuing whumpee and leading them to medical care? (Like they get a lot of injuries fighting the bad guys and also barely slept because the whumpee was kidnapped, and they spend a lot of time trying to find them and creating a plan) ps: specially if it can be royal whumpee x bodyguard caretaker? Thanks!! 😄😄

Ahh thank you, reading this made my day! Without any further ado, the whump~

Three days. It had been three days since Whumpee had been kidnapped, taken straight from the guards that were supposed to have been watching them. How could this have happened? The castle was supposed to be the safest place for the Whumpee to be, and yet it ended up being the place in which they were taken. Caretaker wanted to punch something, but they stilled themselves, knowing that the time was coming as they approached the enemies’ base.

Since the three days had passed, Caretaker hadn’t rested. They’d spent every available opportunity searching for the Whumpee, and if it weren’t for the people around them forcing the Caretaker to do so, Caretaker wouldn’t have eaten either. How could they? Caretaker didn’t know the condition of Whumpee, didn’t know if they were being allowed to rest or eat, so why should they be allowed to? Caretaker hadn’t been at the castle during the time of the attack, which meant that they hadn’t been there to protect Whumpee when they had needed Caretaker most.

“Caretaker! Pay attention, we’re approaching Whumpee’s location now!” One of the guards whisper shouted at the Caretaker, shocking them out of their stupor. As soon as they heard Whumpee’s name, they straightened, urging their horse to go faster than it already was. He knew that the poor thing had to be exhausted, and Caretaker knew that they’d spoil it once they got back to the barracks.

In front of Caretaker was a large building, one that had to have been used for brewing beer or something of the sort. It was obviously abandoned, making it the perfect stronghold for the enemies to hold Whumpee. A night ago, one of their spies had reported to the Captain about the building, and within an hour Caretaker and almost a dozen other guards were riding off in order to bring back the captured Whumpee. Typically, they would have waited a day or two to get the layout of the place memorized, therefore reducing any surprises that may have come upon them, but with Whumpee being the future leader of the country, time was of the essence.

Everyone dismounted from their horses a safe distance away from the brewery, Caretaker itching to get into the building and find Whumpee. They had already been over their mission and commands before they had left, so there was no need for it now. Half of them stayed outside in case there were more enemies entering the brewery or said enemies tried to leave, while the other half (including Caretaker) went in for the Whumpee.

Within minutes they were approaching the entrance, and several guards worked together to break down the doors, not caring about their loud entrance. They knew that there weren’t any underground passages underneath the building that they were in, and the other guards outside were to make sure that no one got away, not alive at least. Not waiting any longer, Caretaker and the rest of their squad entered.

…

It wasn’t long before Caretaker realized just how unprepared they and the rest of the guards were. It seemed as though they had walked directly into a trap, as they were vastly outnumbered, and it seemed as though they had been expected. “Don’t let them push you back. We have to get to Whumpee!” The voice of their Captain could barely be heard over the screams of Caretaker’s teammates, the ones who had been unfortunate enough to meet their end at a blade. Caretaker themself had almost met the same demise, and had the injuries to show just how close of a call things had been. Their ribs twinged with pain every time they brought down their sword, and sweat intermingled with a fair bit of blood (not all of it theirs) ran down their face, practically obscuring their view of the enemy.

Almost as though to jinx things, a sharp pain exploded in their left arm, and when they glanced over, they saw one of the enemies holding a bow, the arrow buried in Caretaker’s arm. Cutting down the immediate enemy in front of them, Caretaker then cut the arrow in half, leaving a small bit of it embedded in their arm, both to slow the bleeding and because they didn’t have the time or energy to yank it out. Approaching the archer and taking them down was rather simple, as though they were good with a bow, they seemed to be a novice in battle.

Caretaker advanced forward, noting absentmindedly that they were the furthest of any one else. Their Captain was still towards the entrance, being swarmed by the enemy. Caretaker knew that the Captain would be able to hold their own though. A quick slash— and the enemy before Caretaker fell, allowing Caretaker to get into the hallway that had been previously blocked off.

As they ran down the hallways, checking each and every door that they passed, Caretaker could feel the adrenaline that they had been running on start to wear off. Their footsteps became heavier and their breaths labored, and when they moved their left arm, it burned with a pain that went all the way up to their shoulder and spine. It made them pause for a moment and try to catch their breath, knowing that simply not moving the arm wasn’t an option. Gritting their teeth, they swung it a bit, trying to get used to the pain that threatened to force Caretaker to their knees. They didn’t believe that it had been poisoned, otherwise they’d be dead already. Caretaker knew a small mercy when they found one.

The room that Whumpee was in ended up being the very last one, and as Caretaker opened the door, they were relieved by what they saw. Whumpee sat in one of the far corners, their hands bound in front of them by a thick chain and a gag in their mouth, but looking relatively unharmed otherwise.

“Oh thank Merlin,” Caretaker breathed as they quickly rushed towards Whumpee, cutting the chains that bound them. They then carefully removed the gag from Whumpee’s mouth, noticing a small patch of blood on their temple and mingling with their hair. Anger coursed through Caretaker’s veins at the injury, but they knew that the only thing they could do was get Whumpee out and to safety.

“Caretaker! You’re bleeding!” Were Whumpee’s first words, and they quickly pointed at the crack in armor where a sword had gotten Caretaker. In the midst of battle, Caretaker had forgotten all about it, and their body didn’t seem to like the reminder as it twinged in pain once more. Still, they forced a smile as they ushered Whumpee to their feet with a careful pull.

“It’s nothing but a scratch. Come, you need to get out of here. I don’t know how much longer it will be until someone has noticed your disappearance.” Caretaker kept their touch as gentle as they could as they led Whumpee out of the room, urging them through the back of the brewery. They moved quickly, Caretaker staying in front and watching for any enemies that may have been lurking in the halls. It seemed as though fate was on their side, as they were quickly exiting the large structure through the back.

Caretaker didn’t fail to notice the swords that were immediately trained upon them, nor did they fail to notice how quickly they were dropped when everyone recognized Whumpee. “Caretaker! Are there any more survivors?” One of the guards asked as they rushed over, sheathing their sword.

“I’m not sure. I slipped away to grab Whumpee. It seems we were set up though, they knew we were coming and had us outnumbered by at least two dozen.” The news was grim and the guard nodded before they led Whumpee to the carriage that they had brought for Whumpee. Caretaker then re-told the news to the second in command, who was in charge of making the decision with their leader still stuck in battle. The odds had been stacked against them, and Caretaker knew that it was an impossible decision to ask of anyone.

“We’ll leave three behind to pick up the survivors. Caretaker, you and [Name] and [Name] are to escort Whumpee back to the castle. “ Caretaker nodded at the information, immediately mounting their horse along with the other two that had been ordered to. Without any further prompting, they were then leading the carriage away, one guard in the front, with Caretaker walking beside the carriage and the second guard pulling up the rear.

It was on their way back that Caretaker really began to feel the extent of their injuries. Their arm throbbed in time with their heartbeat, and the wound that they had received to their side felt as though molten lava was being poured directly onto their nerves. Caretaker grunted softly, bringing their uninjured arm to their side and applying pressure, knowing that the possibility of bleeding out was very likely. They needed to get Whumpee back to safety, that was all that mattered. They needed to ensure that Whumpee wouldn’t be taken again, and they couldn’t do that if they were concerned about their own injuries.

Caretaker tried to push back the pain, blinking back the dark spots that took over their vision for several long moments. “Caretaker?” The guard behind them sounded concerned, but it only registered as something minor to Caretaker. They swayed dangerously on their horse, barely able to catch themselves in time. They heard the guard behind them ride up next to them, and Caretaker wanted to tell the guard to go back, that they weren’t allowed to leave their positions until Whumpee was safe once more, but the words were stuck to the roof of their mouth. “Hey, are you—” The guard was cut off as Caretaker fell off their horse, and the last thing that they heard before everything went dark was Whumpee’s concerned shout of their name.

#whump #whumpee #caretaker #medieval #probably pretty inaccurate and not that good sorry #answered ask #captured #my writing #injury #collapse

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imagine-loki · 4 years

Text

The Slutty Web One Weaves

Title : The Slutty Webs one Weaves

Chapter NO. 7 of 10?

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki’s Asgardian wife learns women write fanfiction about him on a trip to Midgard. She’s edgy for the duration and lets him have it when they get back.

Author: lokilover9

Rating: M

Astrid apologized, agreed to everything and Thor lead them to a location to hide their vehicle.

"Loki will be pleased to know your helping."

"I should have thought to from the start." She regrettably admitted.

Frigga hugged him. "Thank you for agreeing to take her back should this fail." ***** For eight days, their plan worked until her Father paid the palace an unexpected visit.

Odin was in the front courtyard boasting to some Einherjar about beating an Embassador at charades, when their commander, Nedvar, interrupted. "Ignoramus at twelve o'clock, Sire."

The King groaned. "Splendid. It's Rodderick the dipshit."

"Give the word and we'll pitch him over the wall."

"Tempting, but what do I tell my daughter in law?" Odin hated the occasionally unkempt Lord who preferred perfuming to bathing and greeted him from behind a hedge. "Welcome Roddy. I look so forward to your unscheduled visits."

The disdain was mutual with Roddy feeling Astrid could've done better than wed whom he considered a criminal, Prince or not. "Greetings, Heiness. Might you be so kind as to share the knowledge of when your son intends to return?"

Astrid's parents had two daughters, her being the youngest and known to the Royals as her Father's least favorite.

"That depends on whom you miss more. Asgards lovely Duchess, or my son? Her beloved pardoned Prince. I can give either a message."

"Miss? Impossible as Astrid's practically taken up residence again. Should I relay you wish she ceased luring her Mother from bed crying, or send her home to disturb your sleep?"

"I wasn't aware she'd returned from Midgard. Has age required you hearing aids, or were you night prowling in hopes of accessing Ingrid's locked bedchambers again?"

Roddy frowned and crassly replied. "The lovely Duchess returned with Frigga. Is your wife telling lies, Allfather? Mine would never."

Odin cackled. 'Festering dimwit. Ingrid is banging my valet.' "You shall regard Frigga as 'Queen' and with utmost respect."

"My apologies. She is celestial, yet your defensiveness is revealing."

Roddy liked poking subtle jabs at the Royals and assumed Astrid a barrier to consequence. Most were directed at Loki and the King, but he'd worn Odin's patience too thin. "Insult anyone in my family again, including your daughter and face repercussions. Be gone, Rodderick."

"So soon?"

Odin's jaw clenched. "Leave egghead before I crack it on the pavement. Nedvar, escort him to the gate."

"Gladly, Sire."

Roddy followed, hardly perturbed. "One might expect the offering of a beverage after a stuffy carriage ride."

The commander jolted the gate closed. "Try opening a window Lord Heskin. If you're thirsty, there's a pub nearby rumored to host naked wrestling in the basement. Some days it's ladies, others gents. Enjoy."

When Odin entered their chambers bellowing to the Allmother, her lady in waiting sent word through a chain of servants to a handsomely paid Stableman. Familiar with an alternate route to Astrid's parents, he arrived ahead of Roddy and rushed her to the observatory.

Thor received her call and left immediately. 'Shite, brother. Where art thou?' ***** Following two days in Paris, Loki and Brianna cruised Lake Laguno in Switzerlandand. She questioned him about Asgard and her grandparents, yet when asking the circumstances behind his adoption, Loki spun a tale of half truth.

"Jotunheim had a King named Laufey who owned a magical cube that opened bridges to every realm. Long ago, he used it to attack Earth. Grandfather bravely defended your realm, forced his army back to Jotunheim and demanded he relinquish the cube. Laufey refused and continued attacking Asgards army until most of his people died. Grandfather found me alone amidst the rubble and decided to adopt me."

"You didn't tell him who your parents were?"

"I was an infant and the only survivor for miles."

"Where was Laufey?"

"He'd gone into hiding like a scaredy cat."

Instead of finding his comment amusing, anger washed over Brianna. "He abandoned a helpless baby to freeze? Introduce us and I'll use him as target practice."

Loki booped her nose. "I'm honored you wish to avenge me, but Laufey died and still suffers in the afterlife."

"How?"

"King scaredy cat will never have the privilege of meeting you."

Brianna smiled. "Or you. Was Grandfather hurt?"

"He lost an eye, but recovered nicely."

In Amsterdam, they visited the Artis zoo with over 900 species of little animals, an aquarium, planetarium and Zoological Museum. Further confirmation Brianna's his was how quickly she learned enormous amounts information and remembered the smallest details when later initiating a quiz. Since confessing to the burglaries, Loki was curious how she knew the homeowners were abroad and worked it into their conversation.

She replied like it was all in a day's work. "Dory accompanied me to different parks in fancy neighborhoods around Jersey, posing as my babysitter. Between eavesdropping on adults and questioning kids, it's amazing what you can learn inside a sandbox."

"Questions of what nature?"

"Like, 'I'm new to the neighborhood and love my big house. Where do you live?' Or, 'I'm going to visit my aunt Matilda's lavender farm to make soap.'"

"How was that helpful?"

"Most thought it dull and bragged of their families planning grander trips. Once attaining addresses and dates, I'd stake out their houses and proceed from there."

"Ah. With Dory as the lookout?"

"I left her in shelters or nearby motels. She never figured out how I managed, but by the third burglary, stopped worrying whenever I'd sneak away and send her a text." His eyes widened and Brianna rose a palm. "Dory lacked powers and I wouldn't risk her arrested because of me."

Why lecture when she'd acted out of desperation to find him? "You're a good friend, Og Min Lille."

"Thanks. I regret the stealing, but pranking the authorities was fun."

Loki thought it something innocent like tipping off their hats, but discovered her mischievousness paralleled her intelligence.

"I always struck at night and at one house, four police were investigating inside when I turned on the lights, flushed every toilet and set off their sirens. At the third, I poured a large olive oil path onto the kitchen floor, slammed a pantry door and watched two come running. One slid into it and fell, while the other amusingly contorted himself until the first tripped him. They sure swear a lot for the good guys."

"Brianna." He playfully scolded. "Say you did nothing worse."

"I'd be lying."

"Oh?"

"At the last house, the master bedroom had black drapes and life size models of a lion, wolf and a fang baring polar bear on its hind legs. Weird people. After aligning them near the door, I closed it, extinguished the lights and tripped the alarm. The police came, shone a flashlight inside and from the foyer, I made the bear roar."

Loki chuckled. "Did they scream?"

"And shot the bear."

"What?!" He led her someplace quiet. "From now on young lady, all pranks must meet my approval or…" While pondering means of discipline, he blurted what first came to mind. "...All shoulder and piggy back rides are discontinued."

He made both fun, thought Brianna. Bumping into things when her hands covered his eyes, then flipping her over his head for tickles. Or feigning valiant attempts at shaking her off to escape enslavement.

~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~ "Have mercy and release me!" He pleaded, captured during a picnic.

Brianna popped him on the head with her fake sword, a stick with a bushel of leaves at its tip. "Cease your begging, pheasant! I rule this realm, appoint you my new zombie slayer and hunter of all things chocolate. Fail and be fed to puppies!"

Loki set her down and knelt on one knee with a hand to his chest. "A frightful demise your majesty of cuteness. I humbly accept."

"Daddy, I'm supposed to be fierce."

"Eh he he he. Sorry." ~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~

Brianna deliberated his threat and wittingly proclaimed. "Are you not the God of Mischief and I your offspring?"

He arched a brow. 'Don't laugh or she'll never take you seriously.' "I mean it."

Brianna had already pulled some under his nose. A boy who'd aggressively budded before her at a park slide discovered his shoelaces tied together after nose diving into the sand. A woman at a restaurant who harshly berated a server had red wine spilled onto her Gucci bag. Minor sprinklings of karma she happily administered.

"But you're still a prankster."

"Rarely and without endangering anyone." 'Shite. I'll need to keep that fib under wraps.'

Brianna crossed fingers behind her back and feigned defeat. "O-kay. Can I have a snow cone now?" ***** After seeing the Northern lights in Norway, they'd returned to their hotel where she became oddly sombre.

"Has something upset you?" Loki asked.

"During our travels, I've seen many people with children. It's obvious they're loved, but my family..why, Daddy?"

Her pain pierced Loki's heart as she clung to him. "People can do terrible things for incomprehensible reasons, but you're my little girl now and I'm overjoyed you've come into my life."

When her tears ceased, she unexpectedly opened up about the women. Her first memory was of Jillian singing her to sleep at age three. She and Claudia taught her to talk, walk, bathe and dress herself, brought her toys, fictional and educational books. Yet it was Jillian who'd paid her the most attention, their visits consistently monitored by Hannah. A person so controlling and void of sentiment, Brianna wondered how the trio became friends. The woman opposed their closeness and the first time Brianna defended her Mother, she was forbidden upstairs without Hannah present, who ordered Claudia to report otherwise. This became impossible when the two landed full time jobs. With Jillian delegated homemaker, Hannah was forced to trust her. Over the past year, she'd broadened Brianna's computer knowledge, snuck her for walks to a hidden trail entrance off the main road she'd marked with glow in the dark tape, taught her outdoor safety and survival skills and always stressed keeping everything secret, especially Brianna's magic or Hannah would separate them for good.

"Jillian knew of your powers? Why have you never mentioned any of this?"

Brianna frowned. "She bread me to thicken her purse. No amount of secrets and added kindness makes that excusable or her worthy of commeding."

An undeniable fact Loki avoided arguing. His daughter was hurting and preaching Jillian might've experienced a change of heart could impede their relationship.

She halted his conflictual thoughts by bashfully asking. "Do 'you' love me?"

"Very much, Brianna."

"Can I stay with you forever? Please? I'll move to Asgard."

Loki doubted she comprehended the gravity of her words. "Forever doesn't mean a month long visit as we previously discussed. It involves permanently residing on another realm thousands of miles from Earth where the landscape, culture, even people's wardrobe's are entirely unfamiliar."

"I know. Devoid of space travel, would it be any different if I moved to India, Antarctica or say..Bhutan?"

"I suppose not. I'm sorry, Bhutan?"

"It's a small country just south of China. I memorized Earth's geography and most of its cultures in one month."

"Very good." 'Genius supreme. I must catch up.' "Then you're willing?"

She yawned, proudly raising her chin. "Affirmative. I'd like to see those sandbox dwellers top that adventure."

Incredibly relieved, Loki chuckled. "You've ten remaining seconds to gloat, sleepyhead. Ten..nine.….three, two, one."

"Hey, you said those last digits awfully fast."

"It's time for vampire pajamas, your fierce and Royal Highness."

"A story too? Will you conjure The Empty Grave by Jonathan Stroud?"

"The Empty 'what?'" He amusingly queried. "No way, Jose. I've chosen three options of popular children's literature from the internet. The Cat in the Hat, Whinnie the Pooh, a rather peculiar name for a bear and Charlotte's Web."

"Isn't the last tale about a spider?"

"Yes."

"They're creepy. I choose that one."

'Mother would be impressed.' "Hurry then before zombies find us and eat my brains!"

Brianna shouted from the bathroom. "Nobody hurts my Daddy! Huyya! Take that you fiendish barbarians! Uh oh."

Loki rushed in upon hearing glass crack and found her standing on the bathtub ledge. "What did you do?"

"I was pretending to fight them off with my hairbrush when it flew from my hand, struck that picture and landed in the toilet."

He laughed renewing both with magic. "Your toothbrush is safe, yes?"

Loki finally thought her asleep when she reached out for a hug.

"I'm sorry, Daddy. I forgot to say I love you too. Goodnight."

His heart swelled twice its size. "Goodnight, Og Min Lille." ***** Next they ventured to London and a budding lover of history, Brianna asked to visit The British Museum. While viewing a dinosaur skeleton from an upper walkway, she pointed into the crowd below.

"Daddy, isn't that Tony?"

He took a gander. "Well, well. Iron Man it be."

"Who's the strange lady he's with?"

"Pepper, darling. She often wears wigs to avoid recognition."

Her eyes brightened. "Please, can we say hello?"

"Inconspicuously. I'll him send a text." Daddy concealed his phone. 'Greetings kinky crossdresser. What brings you to Londinium?'

'Loki???'

'Yes. Act casual, we're hiding.'

'Holy shit! We're on vacation and at the Savoy in the Royal Suite. Can you meet us there ASAP? It's important.'

'We're on the ninth floor. Rendezvous in an hour?'

'Ha! We'll be there with balls on!'

'Come again?'

'🤪 Bells, dammit! Bells!'

'😂 Brianna can't wait.'

Tony hurriedly guided Pepper through the crowd. "Excuse us..pardon us..excuse us."

"Where's the fire?" She whispered.

"Daddy Snowflake's in town. Hustle, Butch." ***** Their door opened and Brianna ran to him. "Uncle Cootyoodles!"

"Little Warrior! Am I happy to see you!"

The couple listened with enthusiasm about everywhere she'd been, then Tony asked to speak with Loki alone.

Virginia led her into their bedroom. "Wait 'till you see all the cool stuff I bought."

"That'll keep her busy." Said Stark. "Pepper's a London shopaholic. So why the vanishing act? Thor called me."

Loki scoffed. "I did tell him not to."

"Don't be angry. Astrid returned and wanted to contact me."

"Why? You knew nothing."

"She didn't believe him. Neither did your Mother and Thor worried they'd show up at the Tower."

"What?! Our Mother came to Midgard in search of me? Shit..shit!"

Stark told him everything and Loki's face was unreadable. "Nope. There's nothing weird about staring like I've grown a nipple on my face."

"Did I mention it's pierced? You're saying 'my' brother, Shakespeare in the park, lied that extensively for me?"

"Yes and sent them back to your Dad to expand on it. What's everyone's problem with an awesome six year old anyway? Is that why you didn't go home?"

"Becoming a parent, you're suddenly bombarded with complex decisions centered around one tiny person you never fathomed loving so deeply, much less an indisputable desire to protect above all else."

Stark smiled. "Look at you. The master of Sheisterism all growed up..whose dodged my question."

Loki sunk into a chair. "Maturity aside, my life is a mess. Asgards people still regard me a traitor, Astrid and I are constantly arguing and it's completely unfair of me to expect she Mother a child she didn't bare and Odin's my grandest worry for classified reasons I've become an insomniac over. I can't subject Brianna to that. Her life has been dreadful enough."

"Not anymore. She has you now. I endured shitloads of public and political outrage over changes to Stark Industries. 'Wealth aside', I thought it my doom. People adjust and opinions fade. Astrid will come around once they meet. Look at the number Little Warrior did on us."

"She 'is' irresistibly charming."

"Whatever gramps issue is, arrange for her a few rounds with the old coot. She'll straighten him out."

Loki smirked, picturing Brianna dancing circles around the Allfather. "My Mother would buy ring side seats."

"See? The bulk of your family is on your side. Let them help."

"As appealing as that sounds, Astrid will expect hours of explanation I haven't the energy to convey. I love her, but she 'is' a drama queen."

"Eligible for an academy award."

Loki's eyes narrowed. "Piss off, flying human."

"Thor's willing to talk without the wifey knowing. I've a burner phone as you tend to appear in the strangest of places."

"Mm. Like when I ran into you in a sleazy massage parlor near Carnegie Hall?"

Loki was still a bachelor then, but Tony wasn't.

"I didn't know they offered sexual favors until the masseuse grabbed my dick. They weren't listed on the brochure."

"Eh he he he. I'll call when I've a chance."

They clammed up when Brianna exited the bedroom. "Can I go Daddy, please?"

Pepper followed. "Sorry. I blabbered the Tea shops chocolatiers add finishing touches to their masterpieces at this hour."

"You may." Said Loki.

Tony slipped Little Warrior fifty euros. "Buy me an eclaire and keep the change. Badass ate mine."

"Yay! Thank you!"

They left and Stark unpacked the phone. "Here's your chance while Brianna's absent. Text him, 'Garage?'" ***** Jane distracted Astrid while Thor sat in the cabin of his truck and the brothers soon cleared a lot between them.

"I'm not upset you deceived me anymore Loki, nor is Mother. Yet I'm worried Father's making her life miserable. Are you fearful he'll scorn Brianna?"

"Not up for discussion and relax, brother. You've been gone a while. Mother's gonads have grown."

"She's taking male hormones?"

"I meant she's less meek? Have you dropped the toaster in your bathwater?"

"That only happened once." Thor defensively replied. "I was late for a waxing of my package and hastening making breakfast. Nor have I recently smoked Jane's medical marijuana. She threatened torture were there not enough to ease her menstrual cramps again."

Loki deadpanned. "Norns you're a tit, fruit of Odin's loins.' "How's Astrid?"

"Coping. Jane said she'd do anything to see you again."

"Coping amidst stewing over my bedding of another 'Midgardian hoe' I've fathered a child with, and the humiliating circumstances involved."

"Believe me, brother, she too is no longer angry and the diaries contents stayed within Stark's walls. It isn't my story to tell."

"Your software needs reprogramming, impersonator. Thor Odinson was never so thoughtful of his sibling."

The blond laughed. "He's turning over a new leaf."

Loki had sought privacy in another room and suddenly heard Brianna desperately calling him. "I have to go. Don't tell Astrid we spoke yet." Upon opening the door, she threw herself at him.

"Daddy!"

"What happened?" He asked Pepper.

"We neared the shops door when she gasped, bolted for the elevator and started frantically pushing the button."

Brianna was trembling. "Darling, why are you frightened?"

"We can't stay here, Daddy! She's down there!"

"Who is?"

"Hannah!" She cried. "I'd know that red headed witch anywhere!"

"Shhhhh." He soothed. "I promised they cannot hurt you, remember? Stay here with..."

Brianna wrapped herself tighter around him. "No Daddy! Don't leave me!"

She was so distraught, he couldn't. "I won't, Min Lille. Shhhhh."

"Virginia's gone." Said Tony.

Loki's head shot up. "Back to the shop?"

"Yeah. Said the witch looked familiar and went on a hunt."

"Fuck! Get her back here!" Brianna jumped from Loki's voice. "Sorry Min Lille. Tony, now!"

"Erm..why?"

"Because they've met! If Pepper confronts her, she'll vanish!"

#Loki #father #others #submission #Submitted fic #chapter 7 #lokilover9 #The Slutty Webs one Weaves

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

Karen Renford Comes Home

Just a drabble exploring a side character who is a whumper in a class all her own. I’m not tagging this as directly part of the Kauri story, as it’s not. Just a character study. Takes place within my variation on the Box Boy universe - original idea from @sweetwhumpandhellacomf.

Who is Karen Renford when she’s not at work? She’s this.

CW: Referenced violence and physical abuse, forced feeding/starvation, dehumanization, pet whump. Referenced/discussed whump of a minor/foster care whump (though none occurs directly within the piece, it is discussed from the POV of the whumper and could be triggering, stay safe)

Contains a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it reference to one of my favorite Whump storylines, @comfy-whumpee‘s Alistair and Ellis stories, and this excellent drabble I’ve returned to over and over.

Also includes Henry, who belongs to @spiffythespook and is used with permission, and her OC Wright Farling is referenced but does not appear directly.

When Karen Renford comes home at the end of the day, it’s Dex who greets her at the door.

Her oldest Boy isn’t a boy at all, of course; Dex turned 39 this year, making him only a few years younger than Karen herself. He’s dressed in a simple green sweater with jeans, tall and slim - she insists her Boys maintain their physical fitness even past the point they function as entertainment for friends and other guests - with short dark hair starting to pepper with silver and a hint of crow’s feet beginning around the edges of his dark brown eyes.

He wears a simple green leather collar with his name stamped at the front just below his Adam’s apple, as always. He has one to match every color of shirt he is allowed to wear, and he never forgets to wear the right one.

Dex has his hand out for her coat before she’s even fully crossed the threshold, and smiles for her just the way she likes; a slight expression of warmth, nothing false or overly effusive.

The expression never reaches his eyes.

Karen grants him a peck on each cheek, watching him gently lay her coat over his arm with a practiced, experienced grace. “Good evening, Dex. I assume no one started any obvious fires today?”

His smile might widen, imperceptibly, at the humor; it might not.

Dex’s only answer to the question is a nod, stepping back and out of her way as she enters the foyer. Pulling sleek leather gloves off her fingers one by one, Karen lets her eyes skim over the dark custom-ordered wood doorframes and cream-colored walls, the grand staircase that wraps up to the second floor.

Minimalist but with a subtle, simple lived-in look and feel.

She has worked hard for every inch of her success, signed up with Whumpees-R-Us fresh out of college and was part of the neurological engineering team to develop the first truly successful training protocol, and Karen Renford will never apologize for the wealth on quiet display.

She earned every cent.

Her position as Director of Client Success now is really a way to help her make her first steps towards retirement, not that she could ever imagine doing any such thing. Karen loves her job. She’s good at her job.

Every job Whumpees-R-Us has ever placed before her, Karen Renford has set new standards that the other employees must then meet.

But she is proudest of the Boys she has taken a personal stake in, starting with Dex himself. Dex was one of the first ten success stories, and she’d been the one to guide him right from his first day at the Facility (it was a different building, back then; much smaller, more cramped, but you make do and excel with what you have).

Dex had been her Christmas bonus, when it became clear that the training to make him seen and not heard had been entirely too successful and his intended owner returned him.

Dex hasn't spoken a word since the day, twenty years ago, when 19-year-old Dex (just called 10, before they changed to a random numbering convention), had slapped 24-year-old Karen Renford across the face and said you'll never shut me up, you fucking bitch, I'll kill you myself!

Now he smiles, with an empty gentle affection, as he takes her gloves and packs them away within the pockets of her soft coat.

He's a raging success, as far as she is concerned, in his pristine contented silence. Never so much as an eyelid flicker to betray any evidence of the thoughts she is sure she took away from him a very long time ago.

"Henry?" She asks, craning her head slightly to look around.

Dex gestures with one arm gracefully towards the kitchen.

"Ah, lovely. Did he invite himself, or did Seb ask him?"

Dex holds up one finger, then steps over to the foyer's closet, hanging her coat with nimble fingers, pressing it lightly with his hands to ensure there will be no wrinkles. Then he turns back to her and signs, quickly, fingers flying through names and words fast enough that even Karen must sometimes ask him to slow down.

This time, she keeps up, and nods. "Good. I'm glad they get on so well. Sweet boy." She moves in that direction, then pauses, turning back to Dex, who raises one thin dark eyebrow in question.

"Where is Peter?"

Dex's mouth quirks to the side in what might be meant as either smile or sneer. He signs again, curtly, ending the sentence with a flourish of his hands.

Karen laughs.

It's not much of a sound, short and quiet and a laugh devoid of affection or warmth, but it is a laugh nonetheless. "Well, if he learned his lesson, I don't mind him sitting with Henry. How is his back healing since the caning?"

Dex shrugs, and Karen moves away without asking for elaboration. If the careful set of his shoulders - and the tense expressionlessness of his face - relaxes when her back is fully turned to him, Karen does not see it.

She finds the other three in the kitchen, right where Dex said they would be.

Sebastian is her beauty - her personal chef and second Box Boy, her second large-scale bonus after she introduced a widely successful and lucrative change in price-per-position for the Romantic/Companion poses. Owners were buying their Boys (and Babes) for the purpose regardless, why not add some fun and extra profit into the options available?

She'd received Sebastian - and a promotion - for that one.

Sebastian stands at the counter chopping vegetables with a sharp chef's knife nearly a blur in his hands. At 34, Sebastian's youthful looks - blond hair with a cowlick, a sharp jaw, hazel eyes - have begun to deepen into a sharper handsomeness she appreciates, at least aesthetically.

Karen's never cared for much beyond aesthetics. In that, she is a rare pet owner indeed.

"Good afternoon, Sebastian," Karen calls.

"Good afternoon, Madam," Sebastian replies without missing a beat. "Filet mignon, tonight?"

"Sounds perfect."

She pauses.

There are two more young men in Karen Renford's house, and both of them sit with their backs to her, and neither of them has moved.

One is her Peter, the third Boy at 24 and a gift from a very good friend who had, she thought sometimes, played a bit of a prank by buying her a Boy who still needed correction - and Henry…

Ah, Henry.

Her foster son, 17 years old, sits with his head bent before an array of worksheets, chewing thoughtfully on the end of a pencil as he considers the formula he's working on.

Henry is not one of her Boys, but he is hers. And she will be soon correcting and removing all that need for independence, that sense of certainty in a future that Karen does not command. Once Henry turns eighteen, he will understand his place in her household is a permanent one.

But Henry is not the one she focuses on now.

"Peter," Karen says, with a hint of reproach. "Your Madam is home. Show some respect."

Peter, all soft brown hair with a hint of curl and a hopeless cowlick and warm brown eyes, pushes himself out of his chair quickly, turning to face her and falling to his knees into Position Two. His collar is a silver chain and she can still cut his breath with a single hard yank, and everyone here has seen Peter pass out at her hands before.

"S-sorry, Madam," He says softly, his voice trembling. She loves a good tremble, and her friend must have chosen Peter with the way his voice can shake so beautifully in mind. "I was, um, I didn’t hear you-"

"I know, beautiful boy. Your hearing hasn't been the same since that last repair, has it? Still. You can show more respect than that, don't you think?"

Peter swallows and nods, leaning further over until his face is parallel with the floor. She sees him wince as the motion pulls at the bandages layered over the vicious caning he'd received at her hands the day before. The sight makes her smile, but she says nothing until finally he bends completely in half, breathing harshly, to rest his forehead on the floor.

She does not require Dex or Sebastian to fall into Respect any longer. They haven't needed it in years.

Peter, though, still needs reminders.

Karen would never admit how much she enjoys providing them.

She waits until his breathing is ragged with the ache before she nudges him with the rounded end of one perfect black shoe. Peter swallows, hesitates perhaps a fraction, and kisses the pointed toe before returning to his position.

She nudges him with the other, and he repeats the motion on that shoe, too.

She lets out a slow, soft breath.

Karen requires little more than aesthetics from her boys - but there is something to be said for the curve of a neck and the flush in the face of someone doing something they truly do not want to do.

Peter is imperfect - but Karen is absolutely certain Wright requested him that way when he bought him for her. It had been such a lovely Christmas, that year...

“There, don’t you feel better, doing what you are meant for, Peter?” She asks in a soft voice.

“Yes, Madam,” Peter replies almost too quickly. She’s not convinced he even heard her, to be honest - he really is nearly deaf in one ear as a result of some defiance during his time in the Facility.

But the respect is what matters, and the willingness to literally kneel and kiss her feet.

Henry never moves, doesn't even turn his head. He keeps working, scribbling some formulas on the notebook he keeps for workpaper before carefully writing the answer in the provided space on the worksheet.

Henry has been living with her for not quite half his life, now. Seeing Peter kiss her feet is in no way unusual for him. He and Peter had gotten closer than she liked recently; Henry had been tasked with assisting her with his last caning and it seemed to have put the correct emotional distance back between them.

She hoped. She might need to speak with Dex and have them watched to be sure.

"You may rise and attend Henry," Karen says and moves carefully, casually away. Peter waits until she is over with Sebastian in the prep area before he gets back to his feet, sitting with delicate slowness back down at the table, face pale and teeth gritted. Karen wonders if blood will begin to spot through the back of his shirt again, if he will bleed through his bandages.

She loves the look of fresh red blood on a perfect white shirt.

The same year Wright had gifted her with Peter, she had given him a painting she had had commissioned of his favorite son at the time, painted from the back with bright red spots in a perfect aesthetically pleasing pattern, like a constellation of learning what you are.

Wright had been delighted.

Honestly, if either of them had been remotely attracted to the other, they could have made quite a marriage.

Sebastian hums to himself as he works, not quite tunelessly, his own collar a shining black leather that sits against the pale skin of his throat like he was born wearing it. He's already poured Karen a glass of her favorite dry red wine, and she lifts it to take a sip, eyeing the array of ingredients.

If Sebastian stands straighter when she looks at him, moves more carefully, if he smiles less and looks nervously eager to please her… it is only what she deserves. What she worked very, very hard for.

"How was class today, darling?" Karen asks Henry, turning her eyes to him.

Henry finally looks up, a little dazed and daydreamy from the math he's still working through. "It was good," he says, a touch curtly. One day he won't be curt, Karen thinks. He will have none of that left in him.

He is very nearly perfect now.

Nearly… but not quite.

"Lovely. Will you be singing tomorrow night for my gala? There are some very influential people in the industry who will be there. I'd love to show off what I've paid for."

And watch those pet lib assholes squirm knowing that you'll be mine, in just a few months. Mine like my other Boys. Mine for life.

Henry smiles for her, and she does love his smile. She'll be sure to train him to smile more often than he does now. Smile even through tears. "Of course, ma'am. Whatever you need me for. The black suit?"

"Hm, the blue one. I'm wearing blue. Vincent Shield will be making an appearance, isn't that exciting?"

"He hates your company, though," Henry says doubtfully. "Doesn't he? I saw it in an interview. And his girlfriend really hates you."

"That's half the fun of inviting him, darling," Karen replies, taking another sip. “The wine is warm down her throat and through her shoulders. “The studio head for his next project is a personal friend of mine. He needs to maintain ties with the important people in the industry.”

“His industry, or yours?”

“Both.”

"If you say so," Henry mutters, doubtfully.

She'll have him broken of that, she thinks. She detests muttering, but one must expect a certain amount of it in teenagers. Once he signs his contract, she’ll ensure that his handlers - and he will have two assigned personally to him, nothing but the best for Karen Renford’s Boys - know that he must never mutter or doubt her again.

She wonders, idly, what Henry will look like with a shock collar around his neck. All her Boys start with shock collars - they earn the pretty ones they wear now. By the time they’re good enough for her, they see anything as a mercy compared to that.

Karen lets her gaze move idly around her kitchen as she luxuriates in the simple daydream of her Henry, her good little son, as a Box Boy that meets all her expectations and then exceeds them.

He is not a crier - she loves that about him. She wonders if he will cry when they ink the barcode into his skin.

She spots something out of place - not at all where it should be - and holds up one hand. Sebastian freezes immediately, his eyes moving to her face. "Madam?"

"Why is there a small salad bowl by itself?" Karen points at the garden salad nestled in a spot nearly hidden by the angle where fridge and counter meet.

She sees, all at once, both Peter and Sebastian tense up. Then she understands.

"Ah. For Peter. He’s doing it again.”

"Peter was a vegan before he came into service," Sebastian says softly. "He struggled with meat at lunch again today and I thought rather than force him to feel stomach pain-"

"Were you trained to think, Sebastian?" Karen's voice drops into a deep chill.

Sebastian stills even further, slowly setting the chef's knife down. "No, Madam. I was not."

"I did not think so. Peter," Karen says, pitching her voice louder. Peter doesn't react at first, until Henry leans over to nudge him and point in Karen's direction.

"Y-yes, Madam?" Peter turns to look at her, and his hands shake where they are laid flat on the table.

"You will eat two servings of filet mignon for dinner tonight, and nothing else. If you cannot keep it down, you will eat nothing but the nutrient drink for three days. Sebastian, dispose of the salad. Peter will have none."

Peter and Sebastian meet eyes, briefly, and them both of them nod.

"My apologies, Madam," Sebastian says softly. "Peter did not ask. It was my idea."

Peter looks over at Seb, worriedly. "No, I-"

"It was my idea entirely," Sebastian says, more firmly this time. "I will require correction."

Henry's eyes are up again, carefully reading the expressions of everyone in the room. Karen sits back, feeling the glow of the wine beginning to relax her shoulders and sink nicely into her veins. Dex moves through the room on his way to some other task, and Sebastian and Peter are frozen, waiting for her decision.

"Fine. You will take fifteen stripes tonight for going against my express directions to feed Peter meat with every meal."

"Yes, Madam."

"You may continue dinner preparations." Sebastian nods and picks the knife back up, returning to work. "Peter?"

"Yes, Madam?"

"You will return to your room until you are called to eat. You will receive five new stripes tonight for not reminding Sebastian that what you eat in this house is entirely dictated by your owner."

Peter swallows, already looking a little sick. “Of course, Madam. My apologies.” He pushes himself to his feet and nods, giving her a bow before he walks away. Dex shadows him, unobtrusive but ensuring he goes exactly where he is ordered.

Henry watches all of this carefully, then goes back to his work. He is a hard worker and good at studying, and Karen loves to see his mind rolling around in the math problems he loves so much.

He thinks he will study statistics and mathematics in college.

He thinks he's going to college.

In truth, he will be Karen Renford's newest resounding success - a placid songbird and piano player with all those memories and that annoying independent streak removed with surgical precision.

A new acquisition to stay with her, entertain her, be carefully honed into the final missing piece from Karen's idea of a perfect life of total, unending, complete control over her four Box Boys.

And everyone in this household knows his future but him.

#whump #box boy #box boy universe #karen renford #creepy whumper #violent whumper #distant whumper #referenced violence #forced feeding #tw: mention of force feeding #tw: mention of starvation/food control #reference to whump involving a minor but no minors whumped #collaring #pet whump #dehumanization #caretaker whumpee #broken whumpee #tw: foster care whump

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lifeofresulullah · 3 years

Text

The Life of The Prophet Muhammad(pbuh): Calling the Tribes to Islam, the Allegiances of Aqaba and Migration to Madinah

Migration to Madinah Starts

The allegiances and agreements made between the Muslims of Madina and our Holy Prophet (PBUH) opened a brand new arena before the Muslims. Living in their new community would allow them to talk about their beliefs openly, perform their religious duties freely, and fearlessly protect and spread their faith; the two most powerful tribes in Madina, the Aws and Kahzraj, promised to receive them with open arms, to protect them in all kinds of circumstances and not to withhold their help. It appeared as if the Sun of Islam (PBUH) would be shining with all his majesty in Madina very soon.

While the polytheists were concerned that the Muslims would move to this place of safety, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) was exerting all his efforts into making this new homeland that was rapidly embracing Islam the capital of Islam.

Mecca was in a very sensitive situation. When the polytheists heard that Allah’s Apostle (PBUH) had contracted an agreement with the Muslims of Madina, they further tortured the Muslims to a much greater extent.

Life in Mecca was like a punishment for the Muslims; it was as if the drinking water and the air were a burning fire.

The Muslims explained their troublesome and painful situation to our Holy Prophet (PBUH) and requested permission to immigrate. At first, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) indicated that permission had not been granted to him. However, he was granted permission in the following days and happily notified the Muslims of having received the approval:

“I was shown and it was made known to me that the place you will immigrate to is a city in between two black rocks and is filled with dates. Those who want to leave Mecca should go there and unite with their siblings from among the Muslims of Madina. Allah, the Exalted, has made them your siblings and Madina a home in which you will find safety and peace.”

As it is seen, when the threats and oppressions of Qurayshi polytheists on Muslims reached a point that did not allow Muslims to practice and spread Islam, the Messenger of Allah had allowed them to migrate. The following word of Hazrat Aisha expresses this state: “The believer had to migrate to Allah or His messenger for his religion because he had the fear of being prohibited from practicing his religion.”

“Then, migration, as it is sometimes expressed wrongly, is not an escape but a search. It is the search for a suitable environment for practicing the religion, which was in a point of elimination due to the threats and dangers. The religion determined its practice and application as its aim. If the conditions of the place a person lives in do not let this aim be practiced, it is a religious obligation for him to migrate from that place. The Quran does not regard those people as excused if they do not migrate and holds them responsible. They are obliged to look for a place where they can practice their religion.”

After this permission, the Messenger of Allah thought thoroughly about the act of migration, which was “a search for a suitable place to practice and spread the religion”. When it came time to immigrate, he continuously reminded the Muslims to act with caution and prudence and advised them to leave in small groups so as to not attract the polytheists’ attention.

In accordance to our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) advice, the Muslims proceeded on their way to Madina individually and in small groups, which sometimes included only two people.

The first companion who emigrated from Mecca to Madina was Abu Salama Ibn Abdi’l-Asad.

The polytheists realized what was going on; they made the Muslims they could catch turn back. They were doing all they could in hopes that the Muslims would abandon their faith. They were separating wives from their husbands and objecting to them immigrating with their husbands. Some of the Muslims were being imprisoned. However, they did not want to kill anyone fearing that a war could break. Nonetheless, they did their best to dissuade the Muslims from immigrating by subjecting them to all kinds of unimaginable torture and cruelty. However, the Muslims had made up their mind and were determined to move to Madina regardless of the costs. They were finally able to overcome all of the obstacles and continued with their departure.

The bright horizons were smiling at them already. They had escaped from the circle of torture and oppression and were now opening their wings towards the horizon. Besides, Madina and its inhabitants were anxiously awaiting their arrival.

MIGRATION OF HAZRAT UMAR

While the other Muslims were in the process of emigrating in secret, Hazrat Umar was girding on his sword. He took his bow, arrow, and spear and went to the Kaaba. He openly circumambulated the Kaaba seven times. He bravely called out to the ringleaders of the polytheists who were present:

“I am emigrating in the way of Allah so that I can protect my religion. If one wants to leave his wife as a widow, to make his mother cry, and to have his children orphaned, then come before me on this valley!”

After this fearless cry, about twenty Muslims went towards Madina in broad daylight. None of the polytheists had any courage to track them down.

In a few months, a great percentage of Muslims had departed from Mecca to Madina. Our Holy Prophet (PBUH), Hazrat Abu Bakr, Hazrat Ali, the needy who could not afford a long journey, those who did not have the strength to endure a long crossing, and those imprisoned by the polytheists stayed behind.

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) also had the intention to emigrate. However, he was awaiting Allah’s permission in this matter. In fact, when Hazrat Abu Bakr disclosed his wish to emigrate our Holy Prophet (PBUH) said, “Be patient. It is hoped that Allah will grant you a companion” (to emigrate with.)

THE PANIC OF POLYTHEISTS

The tribes of Aws and Khazraj greeted the Muslims who gradually immigrated to Madina immensely well. They sheltered them and provided homes for them. Married immigrants stayed at the homes of those who were married whereas single immigrants stayed at the home of Sa’d bin Haythama, who was another unmarried companion.

The polytheists of the Quraysh panicked when they saw that the Muslims who had immigrated were being sheltered, helped, and uniting with the other Muslims in Madina. Their worries increased altogether when they thought about our Holy Prophet (PBUH) also emigrating, coming to the forefront, waging a war against them, and having the power to cut off the trade route to Damascus.

Meeting at Daru’n-Nadwa

They immediately convened at Daru’n-Nadwa to discuss how they could take measures.

Daru’n-Nadwa was a residence that faced the Kaaba and belonged to one of our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) forefathers, Qusay bin Kab. The leading figures of the Quraysh would always gather here to discuss matters and consult with one another.

They arranged to discuss the matter regarding our Holy Prophet (PBUH) and met at Dar’un-Nadwa one morning.

In the meantime, they saw a well-dressed, sharp-eyed elderly man standing in front of the door. They asked this man, “Who are you?” “I am an elder from Najid” answered the man, “I heard about this meeting so I came to explain my thoughts. I want to express my opinions regarding measures that I deem to be suitable and unsuitable!”

The Qurayshis welcomed him and said, “Alright, enter!” Actually, the old man was a devil that had entered into the form of a human.

The Terrible Decision They Made!

There were about 100 Qurayshis at the meeting however only Abu Lahab was accepted from among the Sons of Hashim so that the others would not be informed right away. They opened the topic by asking, “What kind of measures should we take in the matter regarding Muhammad?”

Some of them said, “Let us imprison him by tying him with a chain.” The devil that had entered into human form replied, “No. By God, your idea is not suitable. If you imprison him, then his companions will tread on you and pull him away. They will advance with his propaganda and indoctrination and prevail over you. Think of another measure.” Upon this, some of them said, “Let us drive him away from our community and country! After he separates from us, have him go wherever he wants.”

The old man spoke again, “No, by God, your thought is not in good taste. Do you not see that his message and the sweetness and beauty of his words take command in the hearts of the people? If you drive him away, he will circulate among the Arab tribes and then rule over them. Afterwards he will tread over you and order you to do what he wants. For that reason you should think of something else!” At last, Abu Jahl got the chance to speak, “By God, I thought of a measure that none of you would have been able to think of.”

They asked, “what is it?”

Abu Jahl disclosed his idea:

“We do not have any other choice but to kill him. For that reason, we will choose a strong young man from each tribe. Then we will give each of them a sharp sword. They will all strike and kill him at once. That way, we will be freed from him and no one will know who killed him. When it happens in this way, the Hashimis will not be able to risk having a battle with all the other tribes and will consent to receiving blood money whether they like it or not. We will pay off the blood money and resolve the matter.” The devil that had entered the form of the old man came forth and said, “This is the correct idea and the most suitable solution.”

The others accepted Abu Jahl’s view and dispersed.

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