#made it halfway through ramadan

[sabrgirl]

ramadan 30 day challenge

introducing the ramadan 30 day challenge!

I made this challenge in the hopes of catering to as many people as I can - so, regardless of anyone's home situation, health, money, whether or not you live near a mosque or a community etc, I think it is somewhat do-able or adaptable for all! you can access anything you need for this (verses/surahs from the Qur'an for eg) online. I also know that for some people (depending on countries etc), ramadan is either 29 or 30 days, so it's fine to finish on the 29th day if necessary.

if you miss a couple days as well (or end up seeing this post halfway through ramadan), just pick up from whatever day of ramadan it is!

it starts off easy and gets harder as you go along! i'm also going to be doing this ramadan challenge and posting my own updates on here, Insha’Allah! if you do this too, please do tag me because I would love to see how people are getting on! ♡ here it is:

recite surah ikhlas 3 times

recite durood sharif 3 times

read Qur'an after asr

recite the 3 Quls (last 3 surahs of the Qur'an) in the evening/before sleeping today

listen to an islamic podcast

write down 5 things you are grateful to Allah for on paper or phone notes app

istighfar 100 times

read all of surah mulk before bed

wake up for tahajjud and pray (at least) 2 rakaats

learn 5 names/attributes of Allah سُبْحَٰنَهُۥ وَتَعَٰلَىٰ

do something nice for somebody else - can even be very small and will still be rewarded for it

wear your favourite abaya/thobe/modest clothing for every salah today. look your best for Allah سُبْحَٰنَهُۥ وَتَعَٰلَىٰ in your prayer like you would to go to a special event

give some (charity) sadaqah (create a sadaqah jar/box!)

read the last 2 verses of surah baqarah before sleeping

make a du'a for your friends and family - name them and pray for something specific for each of them

read all of surah Ya Sin after fajr

pray 2 nafl rakaats (voluntary prayer) today after the 2 sunnah rakaats of zuhr

no backbiting/gossiping about anyone at all and 2 nafl rakaats (voluntary prayer) if you do

pick a surah from the Qur'an and read the commentary for each verse

memorise the dua to recite on laylatul qadr اللَّهُمَّ إِنَّكَ عَفُوٌّ تُحِبُّ الْعَفْوَ فَاعْفُ عَنِّي Allahumma innaka 'Afuwwun, tuhibbul 'afwa, fa'fu 'anni "O Allah, You are indeed Forgiving and love to forgive, so forgive me."

donate to a charity (for palestine!!). even the smallest amount will be beneficial + rewarded by Allah

recite ayatul kursi after each 5 fard (obligatory) salah

pray all the 12 sunnah today: 2 rakaats before Fajr; 4 rakaats before zuhr and two rakaats after; 2 rakaats after Maghrib; and 2 rakaats after Ishaa

pray (at least) 2 rakaats of taraweeh (either at the mosque or at home by yourself/with family!)

pray 2 rakaats of duha (optional) prayer - it is between 15 minutes after sunrise until zuhr time. (not after zuhr!!)

recite subhanallahi wabihamdi, subhanallahil adheem 100 times - (Glory be to Allah and all praise is due to Him, glory be to Allah, the Great)

be extra modest today (tailored to you. wear hijab outside if you don't, or wear your loosest outfit or lower your gaze completely (including lowering it on social media) today etc. whatever being extra modest is for you, do that today).

pray on time, no procrastination or delays. check what local time each prayer is for you and pray then (unless you're praying at the mosque!)

istighfar x1000 times

pray some of the nawafil ON TOP OF all the sunnah prayers that accompany the 5 obligatory prayers: - 2 rakaats of duha prayer - 2 rakaats after the 2 sunnah rakaats of zuhr - 4 rakaats before asr - 2 rakaats after the 2 sunnah rakaats of maghrib - 2 rakaats after the 2 sunnah rakaats of ishaa (extra challenge: wake up for tahajjud too)

level extreme: if you want an extra extra challenge, you can continue doing each one every day as you go along. so day 1 would be recite surah ikhlas 3 times and day 2 would be recite surah ikhlas and durood sharif 3 times, day 3 would be recite surah ikhlas and durood sharif 3 times and read Qur'an after asr... and you get the gist. if you do this, good luck on day 30 when you have 30 things to do lol

note: giving sadaqah (charity) can be adapted if donating money is a struggle - for eg, doing dhikr on behalf of somebody else can count as sadaqah. click here for more info on this.

may Allah make this challenge easy for whoever intends to participate and let the deeds indeed be multiplied by 100 this ramadan and forgive us for our shortcomings, Ameen ♡

[mymistakewriting]

911 Lone Star: 126 & Culture

Hi, this post has been in the works for... a while. I got about halfway through it, got sick, and then looked it back over and scrapped the entire thing to restart because I couldn't find my train of thought again. It happens, and unfortunately it caused this to take far longer than I would have ever liked for it to.

And seeing as the LS section of the 911 fandom isn't usually rabid, I don't feel as much need to issue the typical "hey if it looks like I'm hating on a character, I'm not, I've got source material for any criticism of a character" thing, but this particular post does come with the additional comment of: this is discussing culture. As such, I've tried to do my research and approach the topics with care, but if I misrepresent something, I would love corrections - just please be respectful when offering them. I'm always happy to learn about other cultures.

As an additional note, to any who celebrate: Ramadan Mabarak!

Without further ado, onto the content.

First and foremost, I'd like to pay mention to the original culture of the 126 pre-Owen. It's a firehouse in Austin, Texas. It's steeped in your standard Southern Culture. This is a culture I'm very familiar with, as someone who's spent their entire life in the deep south. Judd and how he and Grace approach things will absolutely be the reference points I make for those unfamiliar with the culture, as they're the ones representing that within the 126 community and extended families.

Judd and Grace are deeply religious (yes, Judd has his hangups and he's lost his faith a time or two, but it happens), but they're religious in the way Christians are truly meant to be. They don't force their beliefs on others for all that I guarantee you they have a prayer list. They're absolutely church on Sunday, sunrise service on Easter, community outreach programs and all.

Grace approaches things in the way of "may I pray for / with you" when things get hard. Her faith is a foundational pillar and a relatively unshakable one at that. She's also the one that taught those in the 126 that weren't from the South just how diverse a meaning "bless your heart" has. She's also the leading figure of "there's nothing scarier than an angry southern lady".

Judd, on the other hand, doesn't lean religious due to his own personal relationship with it. He's the side of Southern Culture that's all acts of service to be neighborly, remembers everyone's names that he can. He's the guy you call when you get stuck on a backroad somewhere and need a lift, or if you need a hand setting something up.

I also believe that Judd's particular brand of Southern Hospitality extended to him looking into the cultures being brought in with the new members of the 126 so that he could start learning and support his new family members - don't tell me that man didn't ask Marjan if she wanted the rest of them to fast alongside her during Ramadan the second he learned it was a thing. I'll call you a liar.

I also believe he was the one that put the time and effort into ensuring the firehouse only ever shopped local or at halal markets. Man's got a list in his phone that he double and triple checked to make sure they never brought anything into that firehouse that someone couldn't eat. They all eat the same thing when they cook, he's made sure of it.

Additionally, Carlos' close proximity to the 126 means he also brings in the mix of Southern and Mexican heritage. Food is a love language to him, and he absolutely brings meals in on the hard shifts when he isn't also working.

TK being jewish on his mother's side also brings in some interesting dynamics. While canon suggests he doesn't actively observe that part of his culture aside from a few small nods, I do fully believe he rarely breaks the habit of eating kosher. No pork is allowed at the firehouse due to this (a loss that Judd certainly mourned). But he doesn't bring in a lot of cultural influence other than food restrictions. Occasionally, prayer does come up with him - I do fully believe that is something he uses outside of just when he's dying of hypothermia, thank you.

Marjan probably has the heaviest cultural impact on the firehouse. The team has certainly helped her find safe spots to set up for her daily prayers, they share iftar with her when at work for it so she doesn't break her fast alone during Ramadan.

Additionally! I fully believe Nancy and Captain Vega keep extra magents and pins in their lockers / office respectively because hijab accessories are SUPER hard to keep up with.

Obviously, there's other cultural habits, and some of them come from varying places because the 126 has someone from pretty much every corner of the country, but it's hard to cover everything to detail.

Basically, the 126 is both a family and a cultural safe haven within the community, and I really do think that's beautiful. And while I certainly have my issues with Owen Strand as a character, I think he did wonderfully at putting together such a diverse team to create that community.

[samueldays]

in the spirit of xkcd's "did you know you can just buy labcoats?" , did you know you can just buy newspapers? some days it feels like any old shitposter can get a journalism job and spew high-velocity misinformation, like Aziah Siid at the Seattle Medium.

You're the ones doing the starving here, fuckwits.

Thanks to food deserts — or as some folks call it, “food apartheid”

Thanks to bad reporting - or as some folks call it, "Nazi-style propaganda"

that's halfway through the first sentence and Siid has very effectively set the tone for an article of race-baiting, blame-shifting, inflammatory, connotation-smuggling, condescendingly ignorant, hyperbolic, partisan hackery.

there are cities across the United States where Black families have to drive several miles to access fresh food at a supermarket.

link does not support claim, link is just tangentially related article using the word "food desert". link says this:

This gives me the impression that someone yelled "CITE SOURCES" at the journalist until the journalist did the malicious minimum of work to give the superficial appearance of a citation. The source "more than a quarter of a mile" does not support the article "drive several miles", and other problems.

Journalism delenda est.

That isn't even the topic yet, just a shitty lead-in. The topic:

But the lack of resources that disproportionately impacts Black communities isn’t limited to food or health care. Access to literature is also often limited in Black neighborhoods.

Interest in literature is also often limited in black neighborhoods. They have less desire for and less interest in books relative to whites.

Nearly half of American children live in a book desert — places that American Federation of Teachers President Randi Weingarten defines as “neighborhoods that lack public libraries and stores that sell books, or in homes where books are an unaffordable or unfamiliar luxury.”

The linked article is by Randi Weingarten, but does not define "book desert" that way, as it does not use the word "desert" anywhere at all. Superficial appearance of citation again, journalism delenda est.

I'd call for Aziah Siid to be "fired" but there is nothing to fire her from. You can just buy newspapers. You can just write shitposts and have them published with fancy headings.

So I'm left reiterating: journalists lie, journalists spread disinformation, newspapers are full of shit, the profession attracts liars and incentivizes lying partly because it's loudly claimed to be fact-checkers, journalists can get away with contradicting someone and calling it a "fact check". It happens up and down the scale across the industry, from relative rando Aziah Siid, to upscale Keith Olbermann who has multiple awards for excellent journalism and he won't stop lying after repeated corrections.

If students don’t have books at home or in their neighborhood, they rely on what’s available in schools — in the classroom and campus library. But good luck finding banned and challenged books like “The Gift of Ramadan” by Rabiah York Lumbard and Laura K. Horton and “Sulwe” by Lupita Nyong’o and Vashti Harrison if students live in a place impacted by censorship.

"impacted" is such a wonderful weasel word that encourages the reader to imagine something maximally inflammatory with minimal commitment on the part of the journalist. There is no rebuttal that can be made here without Siid dodging that that's not what she meant by "impacted" - so I retort instead that it's content-free incitement and demagoguery. Journalism delenda est.

Similarly with "banned and challenged", where all the weighty connotation is being carried by the "banned" part, but all the truth of the sentence resides in the "challenged" part. I tried to find the specifics of the matter and as best I can tell, in one of the three thousand counties in the United States, The Gift of Ramadan was challenged for school review by partisan hacks and then got stuck in bureaucratic limbo in a poorly designed review process to determine whether it should be in schools in that county. Somewhere has to be the most fuckup county of 3000, and Duval County was it that year.

From the viewpoint of people who thought their book should be read by every student as a default, this cherry-picked one-county school-holdup felt like a "ban" despite the fact that the book remained available in bookstores.

What extraordinary entitlement.

The epicenter of these efforts? Florida and the attempts led by Republican Gov. Ron DeSantis to eliminate the teaching of accurate U.S. history and kill off access to diverse books.

Stripped of the bombast: Florida rejected one specific Advanced Placement course on African American Studies. DeSantis claimed this was because the course was a bunch of thrown-together left-wing talking points including queer theory and climate action along with the black blackety blackness.

The College Board released an edited version of the course, and claimed this was nothing to do with Florida because they get feedback from lots of people.

That’s why as part of a larger effort to make books more accessible, and directly combat these anti-history book bans, the national nonprofit Little Free Library and creative marketing agency Venables Bell + Partners have teamed up on the Unbanned Book Club.

Again with the use of "ban" for not using government resources to promote. Journalism delenda est, wordcels delenda est. The books are not banned, as shown by the fact that this project is legal. The vast majority of books in the world are not in any school, let alone every school; curricula change regularly; to call it "banned" that a book was removed from a school is a sort of linguistic robbery that steals the substance of word and leaves us with a confusion of tongues as of Babel.

[enha-stars]

Meddle About ; P. Jongseong

I'd take you back to my house, so we could meddle about

Pairing: Boyfriend!Jay x F!Reader

Synopsis: Jay’s been a bit busy at work and hasn’t given you the attention you deserve, and now, you’re making him work for it. No problem, he loves the chase. (7.7k)

Warnings: Porn with almost no plot at all, SMUT, p in v, MDNI, alcohol, clubbing, kissing, praise, fluff, minor exhibitionism (in da club), oral (fem), spit, reader is shorter than jay, overstimulation, teasing, pet names, yn lowkey a brat, (minor) brat!tamer Jay, reader has long-ish hair, fingering, think that’s it! 

A/N: Gasp! She’s alive! Yes, I am. Barely. But! I wanted to get something out before Ramadan (lol) and originally Jake's hands were making me feel some type of way but then Jay... yeah. Anyways. Enjoy! Sorry if it sucks. Reblogs appreciated!

The warm steam still clings to your skin as you step out of the bathroom, a towel loosely wrapped around your body. Your damp hair drips onto your bare shoulders as you walk into your dimly lit bedroom, the soft glow of the city skyline filtering through the window. A slow, sultry beat hums through your speaker, something from your ‘Sexy Nite’ playlist that you can’t even name but it lulls you to sway your hips in rhythm, moving to the vanity. 

You take your time, dragging a shimmering body oil over your legs, watching the sheen catch the low light. The scent of vanilla and amber lingers in the air as you smooth it over your collarbones, letting the moment stretch, relishing in the quiet anticipation of the night ahead. It has been a busy week, meetings and presentations getting the best of you, but for now, it’s just you, the music, and the slow, deliberate ritual of getting ready. 

A night out on a warm Friday was all you needed to drown out the misery and exhaustion of the week. You weren’t originally going to accept, choosing to stay home with your boyfriend but when he texted you, letting you know that his meetings are running later than usual, you accepted the invitation. 

You slip into a purple lace bralette, fingers trailing along the delicate fabric, thinking back to the time you had first bought it, the way it was gently stripped from your body by Jay, his eyes lingering on it, long enough for you to buy a few more. You reach for the top draped over your chair and just as you’re about to pull it over your head, you hear a faint click of the front door unlocking. 

Then, footsteps. 

“Baby?” Jongseong’s voice, low and tired from the day, echoes down the hall. At the sound of his voice, one you hadn’t had the chance to hear today, your lips curved into a small smile, an ease settling into your bones. 

Before you can respond, he steps into the doorway and his eyes land on you, frozen mid-motion, the top still halfway in your hands. You turn to face him, a soft smile on your lips, and his gaze, once tired, darkens, slowly raking over your figure. The exhaustion from his day evaporates instantly, replaced by something huskier, something that makes the air in the room heavier, despite the seeping steam from the bathroom. 

“Shit” he exhales, his voice thick with something you recognize all too well. His tie is already loosened, sleeves pushed up, but now his fingers flex at his sides, like he’s debating whether to close the space between you. 

He hasn’t seen you all day, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead as he ran out the door this morning. He’s missed you, he always misses you, so as soon as his meeting finished, he flew out the door and sped home, hoping to catch you before you left. 

A smirk tugs at your lips as you slip the top over your head, watching his jaw tighten, his eyes lingering a second too long. You bought this top, black and lace, with him a few weeks ago. He made you try it on and then he took it off you in the changing room, mumbling against your skin about how beautiful you looked. 

“Hi, baby. You’re home early,” you murmur, turning back towards the mirror, pretending not to notice the way he’s still looking at you like he wants to ruin your plans for the night. You would’ve let him, but you were feeling a bit mean tonight. 

Jay exhales a slow, amused breath, leaning against the doorframe, head tilted slightly as he watches you. You catch his eye in the mirror briefly and have to look away instantly because the heat in his eyes, the love and promise, was enough to make you cave. 

“Yeah,” he says, voice rough. “Lucky me.” 

He blinks slowly, trying to ease the want and desire that drips out of him. He’s not sure why he’s having such a visceral reaction to you, but he knows it could be anything. A combination of your body wash, the sight of you in that top, or just you, looking so pretty and relaxed. 

You pretend not to notice the way Jay’s gaze lingers, hot and unrelenting, as you turn back toward the chair where the rest of your outfit is laid out. The music pulses through the room, wrapping around you like a second skin, heightening the thick tension that settled in the room. 

With knowing slowness, you reach for your mini skirt, sliding it up your legs inch by inch, smoothing the fabric over your hips. It’s a little tight, tighter than you would like, but with the way his eyes were drinking you in, you knew you couldn’t change it. You can feel his stare like a touch, burning into every movement you make. The hemline barely covers what it should, and when you glance at him through the mirror’s reflection, his jaw is locked tight, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip like he’s trying to keep himself in check. 

You loved this look on him, the loose constraint, the way his lips were pinched tightly, almost as tight as his jaw. It made his tanned skin glisten, the veins in his arms making an appearance. He looked absolutely edible. 

Jay breathes sharply, then lifts his hands to his collar, tugging his tie looser with slow, measured movements. The silk slides between his fingers as he pulls it off completely, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he watches you shift, adjusting your skirt in place. He has half a mind to usher you to bed, using his tie to keep you from squirming. 

“That’s the outfit for tonight?” His voice is rough, deeper than before. His throat is parched and he feels like a bitch in heat but he can’t help it when you look like that, when you look at him like you want to eat him as much as he wants to eat you. 

Your smile twists into an innocent pout and you finally turn to face him. “Yeah. Why? You don’t like it?” You can see the physical evidence of how much he likes it, but you wanna hear it. 

Jay lets out a low chuckle, but there’s no humour in it—just heat, thick and dark in his tone. He pushes off the doorframe and takes his time walking further into the room, every step heavier than the last, like a predator closing in. 

“I like it,” he answers quietly, eyes never leaving you.

“You look beautiful.” 

He sits on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide, one arm resting on his knee while the other rakes through his hair. He looks devastating like his—tie abandoned, top buttons undone, sleeves pushed up, the definition of dangerous, divine, and delicious. You want nothing more than to push him back on the bed and kiss his skin, knowing how he’d taste. Like oakwood and sweat. 

You swallow the lump of heat in your throat, heart thrumming in sync with the low string-heavy song playing. “Are you going to shower? I thought you were tired.” You were baiting him, he knew it, but he couldn’t help but want the hook anyways. 

Jay tilts his head, watching you carefully. “I was.” His lips curl into a smile, something sinful. “Then I walked in on my girl looking like this. And suddenly, I’m not so tired anymore.”

You step towards the vanity, pretending to focus on your jewelry, but the weight of his gaze makes it impossible to do anything. He’s in full control of the room without even trying, and when he leans back slightly, one arm keeping him up and one running a hand along his thigh, you know exactly where this is going.

“You weren’t planning on coming,” you say, reminding him as you fasten a gold necklace around your neck, one he had bought you for your birthday. 

Jay hums in agreement, rubbing his jaw, his fingers grazing his bottom lip. “Changed my mind.” 

You raise a brow at him through the mirror, amusement and knowingness dancing in your expression. “Oh? And why’s that?” 

His tongue swipes across his lip again before he finally stands, closing the space between you in a few strides. His hands find your waist, fingers grazing the bare skin between your top and skirt, pulling you in just enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. 

“Because,” he says, his lips brushing just over the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “There’s no way in hell I’d miss seeing you in this little outfit.” 

Your fingers play with the strings of your top, struggling to breathe for a moment before you meet his eyes in the mirror, the heat of his body seeping into yours. His scent wraps around you like a second skin and you breathe him in. 

“Hook this for me?” You ask him, voice softer now, laced with something breathless. You push your hair to one side, exposing your semi-bare back to him.

Jay exhales through his nose, a quiet but familiar sound, but you hear the way his breath stutters slightly. His hands find your back, warm and steady as he sliders the clasp into place. His touch lingers, fingers grazing along the curve of your spine before trailing lower, skimming over the exposed skin above your skirt. 

“Are you doing this on purpose or am I losing mind?” His voice is rough, strained.

You bite your bottom lip, suppressing a smirk, but before you can say anything, his hands tighten on your waist, pulling you back until your spine meets his chest. You gasp, just slightly, but he catches it, revels in it. 

“Missed you, baby,” he breathes, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss just behind your ear. “I’m sorry I’ve been so fucking busy. Haven’t had a second to touch you.” 

His words send a shiver down your spine but settle your heart. You had been busy too, but you were still home sooner than him and he knew it. His hands start to roam, slow, pressing, like he’s relearning every inch of you. The tension between you both becomes suffocating. He palms your hips, thumbs pressing into the dip of your waist before sliding down over your thighs, gripping at the soft flesh. 

Before you can react, he moves.

In one smooth motion, he forces you to step back with him, turning you, and pulls you down onto his lap, your back flush against his chest. His hands find their place again, gripping, kneading, taking his time. You feel him everywhere. The heat, the need, the way he’s been holding back for days. 

You press your hands against his thighs, fingers curling into the fabric of his dress pants. Your head falls back just as his hands inch towards your breasts. Your mouth feels dry and there’s heat pooling in your stomach. 

With one firm movement, he lifts you slightly, maneuvering you off his lap and onto the bed, your ass hitting the plush covers. A small whimper escapes your mouth, so incredibly turned on by his sheer strength, the way his entire body reacts to you. Just as you blink away the need that clouds your eyes, Jay sinks down to his knees in front of you, his hands slowly trailing down your thighs as he looks up at you, spreading your legs so he slots himself between them. 

Your breath hitches. “Jay–” There’s need in your voice, clear as day, and he smiles at you sweetly, a dark contrast with the blistering heat in his eyes. 

His fingers press into your thighs as his lips ghost over the inside of your knee. “Please?” 

You wet your lips and almost nod, but just as his lips press against the skin of your knee, you inched your foot up and pressed it against his chest, pushing him back. He looks up at you with bright eyes. 

“I don’t wanna be late, Jay. If you’re coming with me then you need to change.” You cup his cheek and stand, sliding your hand into his hair and patting his head. You brush your calf against him as you walk back into the vanity, picking up your rings. 

You watch him through the mirror, the way his shoulders drop and he exhales a long breath. He pushes himself up and glances at you, unbuttoning his shirt. His smile is sharp, borderline threatening. 

“Whatever you say, princess.” 

The city lights blur past in neon streaks as Jay drives, one hand gripping the wheel while the other rests on your bare thigh. His fingers flex every so often, tightening slightly, like he’s reminding himself that you’re right there. That he can touch, but only so much. 

He knows the game you’re playing. He knows you're teasing him, testing him, simply riling him up so when he does taste you, when he does slide into you, you’ll understand how much he misses you, how much he loves you. 

You shift, crossing your legs deliberately, your skirt riding up just enough to make his grip tighten. Just because he knows what you’re doing and that he accepts it, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t effect him. He’s losing his mind.

He doesn’t look at you, just clenches his jaw, the muscle feathering under his skin as his fingers press into your thigh. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he mutters, voice low and dark. 

You hum, leaning slightly towards him. “Maybe.”

Jay exhales a loud breath, adjusting his grip on the wheel, but you see the way his knuckles whiten. He still wants to be here with you, still wants to play along, even as frustration simmers just beneath the surface. He’s not sure how long he can last. 

When he finally pulls into the club’s parking lot, the tension between you is thick, electric. The second the car is in park, Jay shakes his head, lips twitching in amusement. “You’re a menace.”

Instead of answering him, you lean forward and press a soft kiss to the edge of his lips. “I’m glad you’re here, Jay.” 

His eyes and exterior soften and he lifts his hand, resting it gently on your cheek. He brushes the skin under your eyes lightly, afraid he might mess up your makeup, and guides your lips to his. 

The kiss is soft, his pink lips moving against your glossy ones. He pulls away too quickly, like he’s afraid he won’t be able to stop if it continues. “Me too, baby.” 

The moment you step inside, the club’s atmosphere crashes into you–thich bass pounding through the floor, music loud enough to drown out every other sound. The air is heavy with heat, bodies moving in sync, the scent of liquor and perfume mixing together in a way that makes your head spin. 

You’re glad you’re busy enough to only accept a few invitations a month, if that. The club scene isn’t one you love, but it is nice once in a while. 

Jay moves behind you, a steady presence as you weave through the packed space. His hand finds your lower back, warm and firm as he presses against you, guiding you through the throng of bodies towards the bar, where your friends are waiting. 

Jake and Sunghoon spot you first, both grinning as you approach. Jake pulls you into a quick hug as Sunghoon slaps Jay on the back, teasing him about his new promotion. Letting you go, Sunghoon pulls you into a quick hug and only frowns when you mess up his hair a bit. Jake has his arm around Jay’s shoulder, a bright smile on his face. 

“Glad you could make it, dude,” Sunghoon says, a small smile on his face. “It’s been a while.” 

You watch as Jay’s shoulders relax, as the music enters his skin and the stress melts from his body. His smile is genuine and your heart flutters at the sight. “Thanks, man.” 

Before you can say anything, Jay leans in, Jake’s arm dropping, his lips brushing against your ear, voice thick and warm against your skin. “I’ll get our drinks,” he murmurs, his hand giving your waist one last squeeze before he pulls away. 

You nod, barely getting the chance to respond before Giselle suddenly appears, grabbing your wrist with a bright, excited grin. “Y/n! You’re here! Come on,” she shouts over the music, eyes gleaming. “We’re dancing.” 

You only have enough time to toss Jake your purse before she’s pulling you into the sweaty crowd. She pushes through bodies with her elbows until she reaches Karina, shouting your arrival. Karina pulls you into a quick hug and immediately starts swaying her hips.

The music takes over, and soon, you’re moving, letting go. The bass pulses in your chest, and the rhythm controls your every step. Giselle laughs, spinning you, before pulling your hips against hers. Karina quickly finds someone that captures her attention but stays close. You three are completely lost in the music. 

And you don’t notice Jay watching. 

He stands by the bar, drink in hand, but his gaze is locked onto you, his grip tightening around his glass as he slowly brings it to his lips. The club’s neon lights flicker across his sharp features, highlighting the way his eyes darken as he watches you move. 

It’s like you’re completely unaware of the effect you have on him. But he knows that you know. 

Jake and Sunghoon notice. Jake nudges Sunghoon, tilting his head towards Jay. “Dude, look at him.” 

Sunghoon raises a brow. “Oh, he’s completely whipped.” They both snicker, knowing what he would have said if he had heard their conversation. 

Jay doesn’t even register them. 

Because you’ve just caught his gaze. 

And you smile.

It’s subtle, enticing, but it’s enough. His jaw flexes again and before he can think twice, he throws back the rest of his drink, setting the empty glass down with finality. 

To Jake and Sunghoon’s shock, Jay moves. He mutters something about your drink, how he’ll buy you a new one, and moves through the crowd, through the flashing lights and moving bodies, straight to you.

You don’t notice at first, not until you feel the warmth of his hands, strong and sure, as they find your hips from behind. You can recognize him by touch alone and a sharp inhale catches in your throat as he pulls you back against him, pressing close, the heat of his body settling against yours. 

“You’re fucking killing me here, princess.” His voice is low, right against your ear, thick with amusement and something darker. 

You smile, pressing yourself into him as you roll your hips in time with the music. “Took you long enough.” 

He laughs quietly, fingers tightening around you. You bring your hand to his neck as he moves against you, not as smooth, but still to the beat. He’s pushing your back flush against his chest and when your ass perfectly brushes against his hard-on, his hips jerk into you. 

Gasping, you spin in his arms, needing to look at him, needing to watch the way his eyes dance with different emotions, so much more expressive than the rest of him. You wrap your arms around his neck as he slots one of his legs in between yours. 

He’s guiding your hips back and forth, finding his own rhythm. His jean-clad thigh brushes closely against your pussy and your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. He watches you carefully, taking in every single twitch of muscle and movement. His grin widens when you start playing with the hair at his nape, pulling him closer, until your lips are just shy of touching. His breath is heavy, warm against your mouth, and his eyes make your stomach clench in want. 

His hands slide lower, fingers splaying over the small of your back before he drags them down your ass, squeezing once. Your head falls into the crook of his neck and the friction, the heat, its dizzying, almost too much, but not enough all at once. 

“You’re driving me fucking crazy, Y/n. You know that?”His thumb dips below your skirt and massages the skin there. His breath is hot against your ear as he angles his body, making sure his dick rubs right against your pussy. “Bet you’re just as wet for me as I am for you.”

He nibbles on your ear, dragging his tongue across the lobe. 

You tilt your head up, eyes glazed. You knew what you were getting into when you pushed Jay away back home, but you didn’t think he’d let you continue your little game. You should have known better. Here you were, underwear almost ruined as he nips and licks your skin. 

He uses one of his hands to lift you a little higher, presses you harder against him as his fingers graze the skin of your inner thigh. “Will you let me check, baby?” His voice is sinful, borderline gravel. 

You can only nod, too buzzed by the music and his scent, the heat of his body, to answer him. You knew if you opened your mouth, you’d moan out his name and you had some shame. Even without any alcohol, your mind was hazy, overcome by lust and desire. 

Jay smirks against your head as you continue to grind against him. There’s so many bodies pressed up against you both but he only cares about you, about the way your nails dig into his scalp as his fingers inch closer to your heat. 

He can feel the slight stickiness before he reaches your cunt and he bites back a groan. Here he was, losing his mind, and you were dripping for him on a dance floor. Matching your pace, he waits until your hips press against his pelvis and then he brushes his index finger against your underwear, eyes rolling into the back of his at how wet you are. 

He does it once more, arm tightening around you as your legs shake. He doesn’t press hard enough to offer you any relief, simply brushes against it featherly, but it's enough to coat both his fingers.

He removes his hand, dropping your skirt before lifting it to his mouth. You watch him with wide eyes, a sight to behold. He looks so sinful, lips curved into a devilish smile as the lights bounce on his sweaty skin. 

His arm is still around your waist as he lowers his slick coated fingers to your lips, a full blown smile spreading on his face when you tilted your head, mouth parting in invitation. He touches your bottom lip with his fingers before sticking them in his mouth. His eyes flutter at the taste and you watch with dazed amazement as he sucks his fingers clean, eyes hooded as they stare you down. 

You can’t help the small whimper that leaves your mouth and it has Jay surging forward, capturing your lips with his. His lips move roughly against yours, nothing like the sweet kiss you shared in the car. He licks your bottom lip and slips his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your groan as you taste yourself on his tongue. 

He cups your cheeks and deepens the kiss, not a single thought in his head besides you and how much he loves you and all the things he’d like to do to you. You nip at his lips before kissing down his throat. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tries to keep still as you suck on his skin. When you lick his skin once more, he knows he’s had enough.  

Threading his fingers into your hair, he pulls as gently as he can to pull you away from his skin. You look up at him with plump lips, covered in spit, eyes wide and blinking. He tilts your head and kisses you once before his lips are pressed against your ears. 

“Please, princess, let’s go home. Let me take care of you properly.” Despite the desire that drips from his words, you hear the plea, the need. He’s never, not once, let things get this far before he’s made you cum on his tongue. 

Hurriedly, you nod at him, your own need evident in the way you clutch his shirt. “Yes, okay, let’s go.” Hand still on the neck of his shirt, you step into the crowd but he tugs you back, arm wrapping around you. 

“What about your friends?” His eyebrows are furrowed and you have no idea how he’s thinking about anything that isn’t your pussy or his dick but your eyes soften and you pat his cheek. 

“I’ll text them.” You clear your throat, trying to look as composed as Jay. “Though, they can probably guess.” Eyes raking over him, you take back your words. He doesn’t look composed, not at all. His hair is slightly messy and his thin sweater is all rumpled. 

“Okay, baby,” he says, taking a step forward and guiding you through the sea of bodies, hand in hand. He doesn’t spare Jake and Sunghoon a single look as he pulls his keys out of his jeans. 

Hiding a bright smile, Jake tosses your purse to you and you simply wave, too embarrassed to look them in the eye. Jay rests his hand on your lower back as he guides you out of the club and outside, taking your purse with his other hand. 

Once you get to his car, he looks down at you and there’s a wicked glint in his eyes. He unlocks the car before he places the keys in your hand. You look up at him in question and he shrugs as he opens the driver door for you. 

“I’m drunk.” He states, simply, eyes ablaze. 

You clutch the keys tightly, already coming to terms with his plan. “You had one drink, Jay.” 

He smiles at you, dimple forming. He leans against the car, arms crossed. You swallow, breathing heavily. Under the moonlight, he’s glowing. He looks so handsome, so fucking beautiful and you’re about to lose your mind. 

“There’s still alcohol in my system, baby. Can’t risk your safety, can I?” His words are sweet, but with the way he tilts his head, licking his lips, you know that your safety isn’t the only thing on his mind. 

When your shoulders drop in defeat, he pushes off the door and raises an eyebrow at you. Sighing, you quickly made it to the drivers side and sat in, trying to adjust your skirt. Jay leans down and grabs the seatbelt, face close as he buckles you up. The faint click rings in your ear when his eyes meet yours and before you can lean over and kiss him, he moves back and gently shuts your door. 

You blink at the space he just occupied before taking in a deep breath. It was only a ten minute drive. You could do this. All you had to do was ignore him and the wetness between your legs and then you’d beg him to fuck you. 

Jay slides into the passenger seat and clicks his seatbelt into place. He watches you out of his peripheral vision as you start the car and pull out. He watches the way your throat bobs and your fingers shake on the wheel. 

He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue to suppress an amused laugh. You look the way he looked driving here. A small, miniscule part of Jay reveled in it. In the way you kept squeezing your thighs shut, glancing at the rearview mirror when you had the urge to look at him. 

“You okay there, baby?” Jay sounds genuine and you know he is, he always is, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a twinge of mockery in it. 

“Just perfect,” you grit out, turning at the light. 

“Yeah?” He rests his hand on your thigh, an innocent enough gesture if you hadn’t just almost cummed on his fingers in the club. His thumb starts rubbing your skin and you exhale sharply, trying your best to focus on the road. 

His fingers inch towards your heat slowly and you unconsciously spread your legs, skirt hiking up even further. He smiles at the way your body responds to him and grazes his nails close to your cunt. 

“Jay,” you whisper, a bit broken and a bit out of breath. “Please.” You meet his eye for less than a second before gripping the wheel harder, eyes back on the road. 

He leans back in the passenger seat, legs spread. His bulge is incredibly noticeable and it’s taking everything in you not to acknowledge it. His index finger brushes against the soaked and thin fabric and he tsks. “Are you dripping all over my seats, Y/n?” 

You don’t respond and he chuckles, eyes bright. He uses two fingers and slides them across your covered lips, eyes zeroing on the arousal that has soaked your underwear and slowly drips onto his seats. Your legs shake and he presses the palm of his hand into your thigh, keeping you still. 

“Focus on the road,” he murmurs, voice low but curt. It has you squirming but you listen anyways, gripping onto the steering wheel for dear life. 

Slowly, Jay uses his middle finger and hooks your underwear to the side. It’s sticky and ruined and he’ll definitely be pocketing them later, but for now, they’re in the way. He slides his middle finger between your folds, back and forth, mesmerized, before he watches your greedy cunt swallow up his long, bony finger to the knuckle. 

Your entire body jerks forward and a breathy moan escapes your lips, eyes fluttering at the first intrusion into your pussy in days. You’re gasping as Jay slides his finger in and out of your pussy slowly before curling it, pressing just enough pressure to have you leak arousal all over his hand and leather seats. 

Just as he picks up the pace and you almost swerve the car, he pulls out and you yell, tears of frustration on your lash line. He presses on your clit once, grinning ear to ear at the moan that rips out of you. 

He pulls his hand away completely and sticks his finger into his mouth, staring at the side of your head the entire time. He makes sure to make a show out of it, swirling his tongue around just like he would in your cunt, purposefully being noisy. 

You’re shaking, legs trembling as you turn onto your street. The sight of your apartment is enough to have you press down on the gas, not caring about the speed limit or how Jay sighs at your behaviour. 

“Watch your speed, baby. There’s cops on this street.”

He leans closer to you, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, fingers brushing against the shell of your ear.

“You’re so fucking mean,” you whisper, voice broken and hoarse. You’re not really thinking as you say it, more focused on pulling into your designated spot without crying or cumming. 

Jay simply raises an eyebrow at your words, a slow smirk pulling at his lips. “Am I?” 

Your heart jumps at his words and you put the car in park. You keep your eyes forward when both of your words registar in your mind and your head snaps to look at him, an apology on the tip of your tongue but he’s already out the door.

You watch helplessly as he rounds the car and opens your door. You say nothing as he undoes your seatbelt and gingerly pulls you out of your seat. You try to ignore the way your thighs stick to the seat or the sheen you leave behind, focusing on Jay’s hand wrapped tightly around yours. 

Wordlessly, he gently guides you inside your building, still holding your purse with that small smile on his face. You look up at him and he looks down at you as you wait for the elevator. You part your lips, ready to apologize, when the doors open and he pulls you in. 

Pressing the button to your floor, he leans against the elevator wall, still holding your hand. You look down at your joined hands, at how soothing it feels to have his strong, slightly calloused hand in yours. Jay watches you, a softer smile on his lips when you bring your joined hands to your lips and kiss his knuckles. 

It says everything you haven’t yet. 

Following your lead, before you can drop your hands, he lifts them to his mouth and kisses your knuckles, eyes staring directly into yours. Then, he kisses the back of your hand before slowly dropping them, eyes focusing on the elevator doors again. 

You swallow the lump in your throat and press yourself into his side. If he wasn’t mean earlier, he definitely will be later. You purse your lips, want and desire leaking out of you, dripping down your legs. 

Finally, the elevator dings open and he’s pulling you towards your apartment, footsteps fast as you try to match his pace. When your door comes into sight you have the urge to fall to your knees and beg Jay for forgiveness. He unlocks the door slowly, turning the key like he has all the time in the world and you unconsciously squeeze his hand in anticipation. 

He pushes the door open and you stop breathing, mouth going dry. He doesn’t turn to look at you as he guides you into your home. You watch as he sets your purse on the little table, along with the keys and his wallet. 

“Jay, baby, I’m–” He cuts you off by turning quickly and slamming his lips against yours, pushing you into the door, a hand on the back of your hand and hip. He swallows your gasp of surprise and kisses you ferociously, pressing his chest against yours. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back just as messily, teeth against teeth. He slips his tongue into your mouth and you clutch at his hair. He sucks on your tongue as he fits his leg between yours, his thigh once again, rubbing against your pussy. 

You can barely breathe but you kiss him deeply, head falling back when he pulls away and begins kissing down your neck, nibbling and licking down your throat, hand unclasping your top and pulling it off of you, only pulling away to pull it off your head. His lips reattach to your neck and he kisses down to your collarbone, biting down on your skin. Your hands tighten in his hair and his grip on your hip becomes bruising. 

You grind on his knee, moaning at the friction. Jay kisses up your neck before capturing your lips in another hated, messy kiss. His hand travels up your body and he slightly presses down on your throat sucking on your tongue before pulling away.

“I wanted to be mean. Show you how mean I really could be,” he pants into your mouth, lips hovering over your swollen, bruised ones. His thigh rubs against your pussy and you whimper, eyes opening. He presses a soft kiss on your forehead before brushing his nose against yours.

“But I missed you, baby. I’ll take care of you, yeah?” His voice is soft, loving, unmistakingly ridden with lust. He begins kissing down your body again, pressing wet, open mouthed kisses to the skin above your collarbone before he unclasps your bralette, tossing it on the floor. 

His lips hover over the skin between your breasts and his eyes flicker up, meeting your dazed ones. “Did you miss me, princess?” 

There’s tears in your eyes as you nod, sniffling from the overwhelming urge to cum and bare yourself open to him. “Yes, Jay, Gosh, I missed you so much.” 

He smiles at you before kissing your skin, licking and sucking, swallowing the sweet taste of your sweat and vanilla. You were a mess above him, head thrown back and eyes sewn shut, incoherent mumbles and whimpers leaving your lips as you pull and scrape his hair at the nape of his neck. Your entire body is on fire. 

Jay presses a soft kiss on one of your breasts, his fingers brushing the nipple of the other. He kitten-licks the aching bud before latching on, sucking and circling his tongue. His other hand pinches the other nipple before he latches onto that one. He jerks his leg upwards to give you more friction and you’re overwhelmed, almost to the point of hysteria and tears. You can feel your orgasm building up and you mutter something to him, something incoherent, but he knows. 

Sinking to his knees, Jay looks up at you and you don’t even notice the bit of drool that drips down your chin. Your knees buckle at the look he gives you before he slowly pulls down your skirt and underwear, tantalizing and slow. 

He lets the skirt drop and you step out of it. He stares at your dripping, glistening pussy with a hunger you don’t normally see. He wets his lips as his eyes darken completely and he surges forward and buries his face in between your thighs, nosing your clit. Your head hits the door when he inhales, almost crying out when he presses a wet kiss to your pussy. 

He spreads your legs even further, gets impossibly closer. His nose brushes against your slick folds. “Fuck, you’re perfect. Prettiest pussy in the world, princess.” The vibrations of his words went straight to your core and you whine. 

You pull at Jay’s hair and he moans as he licks a harsh stripe of your core. You arch your back at the feeling and he presses his face closer to your cunt as his tongue pushes in and out of your sopping hole, licking and sucking loudly. He drags his tongue along your pussy, holding your hips still as he sucks on your clit. 

The tears in your eyes become heavier as he presses his nose against your clit and you moan out a broken, whiny version of his name as he laps up all your juice. The sounds he makes, the slurping and lip smacking has your legs shaking and you feel the tightness in your stomach, the orgasm that’s been building. 

He curls the tip of his tongue upwards and you almost scream, tears falling down your cheeks at the sheer pressure of pleasure. “Yes, Jay, yes” you chant, not caring about who hears you. You begin feverishly moving your hips against his face and Jay grants into your cunt, making your insides vibrate. Your legs are pulsing and your walls clench around his tongue and he knows you're close. 

Using one of his hands, he spreads your folds open wider and licks you even harsher, teasing your clit with his nose as he fucked his tongue into you. “Oh, Jay–” Your vision blurs as you moan, loud and broken, your stomach uncoiling as your orgasm washes over you and you gush all over Jay’s face. 

He hums in pleasure as he continues to push his tongue into your pussy, greedily swallowing your juices. He licks and sucks until your legs begin to shake and you pull at his hair harshly, trying to pry him off you. You’re mumbling something, a string of sentences neither of you can decipher as he slows his tongue, kissing your cunt once. 

You glance down at him and your legs buckle at the sight of him; eyes wide and hair wild as your cum and slick coats his face, his sun-kissed skin glowing with sweat as he smiles at you with swollen lips. 

He licks the skin around your pussy, cleaning you up a bit and then kisses up your thighs. You thread your fingers into his hair and tug, he stands slowly and you pull his face to yours. His eyes rake over you, grinding slowly at the fucked out look on your face, the tears staning your cheeks, swollen lips, and wide pupils. 

You tilt your head and kiss him, pressing your lips flush against his, licking his bottom lip, slipping your tongue into his mouth. You groan into his mouth as you taste yourself on his tongue. He deepens the kiss, holding your trembling legs up as you quickly pull his top over his head, working on undoing his belt. 

You pull away from his lips and kiss down his throat, licking and sucking his skin. His hands work to undo his belt and his breath hitches when you kiss his adam’s apple, licking a long stripe of his neck. “Fuck, baby.” 

He pulls the belt off, throwing it somewhere and undoes his jeans as you lick and bite his collarbones. He slides his jeans off, stepping out of them as you work your way up his neck. He wraps one hand around his hard, leaking cock and slides up and down once. 

“Still okay, love?” Jay kisses your cheek, concern in his eyes. You kiss his chest and wrap your hand around his, squeezing the base of his cock, eyes widening when his entire body shudders. 

“Fuck me, baby.” Your thumb brushes against his pink, leaking tip. “Need you so bad.” 

Jay swallows and brushes the back of his hand against your cheek before he presses you into the door and slides his hand under your thigh before lifting your leg, urging you to wrap it around his waist. 

Exhaling, Jay grips his cock and lines up with your entrance. The soft scrape of his tip against your pussy makes you both groan and he slowly pushes himself in. The satisfying tightening and burn of his veins against your gummy walls make you both moan in unison and his head falls into the crook of your neck as your pussy swallows his dick. 

“Fuck,” he groans against your skin. “Fuck, baby, feels so good.” You press a soft kiss to his neck and he jerks his hips upwards, filling you to the brim. He kneads the flesh of your ass before he grips your hips tightly and thrusts in you. 

He begins fucking into you at an unsteady pace, your jaw going slack from pleasure as his tip presses against your cervix, making your eyes roll back. You could feel every vein bulging against your walls as he pounds into you, your hands clawing at his back as his pace becomes rougher. 

He sucks the skin of your neck, licking as he bites into your skin sharply, almost breaking skin, and you whimper loudly, tugging his hair. He hips have a mind of their own as he fucks into you roughly, bringing you both closer to your release, abdomens twisting and churning.  

Your walls squeeze around his cock and desperation claws at him as he thrusts erratically and he pushes your body flush against his, forcing your hips to match his bruising pace as more slick poured from your cunt, down his legs, your needy moans mixing with his broken ones. 

“I’m, oh, close–” you stutter out, eyes fluttering shut as Jay’s fingers brush against your clit. Your walls squeeze around him again and he feels the euphoria build in his chest. Stars dance around your eyes as he tilts his head and presses his lips against yours, mumbling against your lips. 

“Cum for me, baby. Please, cum all over my cock,” his voice was desperate, sweet. 

He thrusts into you a few more times and your eyes roll into the back of your head as you come undone for him, falling limp against him as your legs shake. Jay’s hands are all over your body, caressing your skin and mumbling sweet nothings to you. 

His lips press soft kisses to your skin as you coat his dick in your cum, thrusting into you once more as warm ropes of his cum fill you up. He mumbles your name like a prayer as he continues to kiss you, continues to cum, filling you up. He’s hips are still moving slowly against yours as he fucks his cum into you, whispering quiet praises of love against your skin.

Your entire body is shaking and you can barely feel your legs and Jay slides both of his hands under your thighs before lifting you up, your legs wrapping around him securely as his dick twitches inside your sopping cunt. 

When your eyes meet, he parts his lips to tell you he loves you, but you pull him into a burning kiss, tongues and teeth clashing. You moan into his mouth at the intimacy of it all–the way his cock is still buried inside you, the way your mixed juices leak out of you and down his legs, the gentle caress of his hands as he whispers loving praises into your mouth. 

You pull away and your lips curve into a smile at the way Jay’s lips glisten, at the way he keeps his eyes shut for a moment longer before his eyes meet yours. You’re both sweating, panting, ignoring the fact that your neighbors definitely heard you. He smiles at you and you brush the hair sticking to his forehead. 

“I love you, Jay.” 

His eyes soften considerably and he presses his forehead against yours, nose brushing yours before he smiles. “And I love you, baby.” 

You cup his cheek and a wicked, insatiable glint enters your eyes and Jay’s cock twitches inside you, making you both hum. You tilt your head and smile at him widely before grinding your hips against his, pulling a groan out of him. 

“Now,” you press a kiss against his jaw. “Fuck me on the bed.” 

Jay’s already moving to your shared bedroom, making sure to walk slowly as his cock slides in and out of you at the movement. He presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

“As you wish, princess.” 

[cveenso]

My First Journal Entry

It's never too late to begin keeping a journal. Even though it is three months into 2024, I am starting today. I am aware that the majority of you probably believed I ought to have begun in January. I understand, but things have changed since then. I have dreams and goals I want to fulfill. This is the first step I'm taking. My very first journal entry.

I post my progress on my Telegram channel, although obviously not everyone can see it. It serves as a kind of record to show how far I've come. However, I share primarily on my deen. What I experienced, particularly this Ramadan.

Today is the eighth day of Ramadan. I committed to using this holy month to my greatest potential by learning everything I could about Islam. Perform as many of the things I was unable to complete during Ramadan last year as possible. Consequently, I made the decision to set clear objectives.

Reading 📚

Journaling 📝

Develop a night time routine 🌌

Start saving more 💰

Manifesting 💭

Pray 📿

Love myself more ❤️

Despite having just begun, I am halfway through my voyage. I can't wait to embark on my next journey. I allow things to unfold naturally because Dunya is a lovely deception. If it is intended to be my رزق, it will be. With His blessings.

Yours Truly,

cveenso

[tamamita]

Ramadan is coming up, so I’ve got an ask that’s been a year in the making:

I recall that you made a post last year about how muscle memory allows the body to regain the muscle lost during fasting. So, if it isn’t overstepping my boundaries, could you do a little experiment?

Take a selfie just before Ramadan to track your physique and make a note of your weight. Then, when you’re halfway through Ramadan, do this again. When Ramadan has finished, take another selfie and again, make a note of your weight. Once two or so weeks pass, take a final selfie and check your weight again.

I’m interested in seeing just how quickly your body loses weight and the ease at which your body regains said weight after Ramadan has concluded. I don’t know if this is asking too much of you, but I would certainly appreciate being able to see just how fascinating the body’s ability to lose and restore weight really is. Nevertheless, I hope that you’ll enjoy this year’s Ramadan!

This is an interesting project, I might actually try it out, haha!

[hanafubukki]

Ramadan: Pomefiore Ver.

Summary: An MC who fasts during Ramadan, and how the Pomefiore students support them.

Characters: MC, Vil, Rook, and Epel.

Notes:  Glad to see everyone continuing to enjoy this series ☺️☺️💕💕 We are about a little over halfway finished 👏👏 I hope everyone has fun reading.

Ramadan Series: Heartslabyul Ver.  Savanaclaw Ver. Octavinelle Ver. Scarabia Ver.  Ignihyde Ver.  Diasomnia Ver.  Grim & NRC Staff Ver.

Eid Al-Fitr:  Eid Al-Fitr in Twisted Wonderland

Eid Al-Ahda: Eid Al-Adha in Twisted Wonderland

·      MC might not be at home, but it doesn’t mean they can’t follow their traditions from home.

·      After talking to Kalim and Jamil, MC was able to figure out roughly when the time of Ramadan would be.

·      So, they chose that time to inform others of their decision, such as the teachers and their friends.

·      Mainly Ace, Deuce, and Grim, so they did not cause too much trouble, or they will have to deal with MC. Which after a particular glare from them, the trio was left quaking in their boots.

Vil Shoenheit:

·      When MC had told Vil, he wasn’t surprised.

·      After all, he was a famous celebrity who probably knew people all over the world from his line of work.

·      What MC didn’t account for was the calculative stare he was giving them.

·      “Potato.”

·      “Yes!”

·      “You don’t need me to tell you how bad staying up late, and not getting enough rest is bad for your health and skin right?”  

·      “Yes, Vil, I know.”

·      For sure MC knew, Epel would whine about it every single time he would get lectured on it.

·      MC would have thought that Epel would have at least memorized the speech by now from the number of times he had to hear it.

·      “Good.”

·      MC watched as Vil got up and went to his vanity, motioning for them to come over as well.

·      “We mustn’t allow your skin and health to suffer while you are fasting. I know this is important to you, but there are simple ways to take care of yourself during this time.”

·      He then proceeded to hand MC various products that would help them in their routine throughout the day.

·      “It is important that you make sure you have the proper nutrients daily, Prefect. I will share with you some recipes that will be sure to give you the boosts you need.”

·      Those recipes came in handy, especially on days that MC did not feel like getting up and making food.

·      On those days, MC would grab the smoothies they had made beforehand from the fridge and chug them down along with a few glasses of water before knocking out again.

·      It was always harder to wake up and gather energy near the end of Ramadan, so MC made sure to keep a stock of smoothies and other nutrient bars in the fridge.

·      Eventually, Vil would hear about this, most likely from Epel, and would drag MC (via Rook) to eat dinner with him.

·      On those days, Vil and MC would have a spa day.

·      Most of the time, MC would fall asleep by the end of it.

·      Vil playing with their hair was too lulling not to warrant a nap.

·      The extra warmth from Vil’s words adds even more reason as well.

·      “You are trying your best, Potato. I’m proud of you.”

Rook Hunt:

·      MC knew telling Rook would be a fiasco, and they were right.

·      After informing Rook about their practices, MC braced themselves for the eventual praise.

·      He did not disappoint.

·      “Trickster, to go through this strife so you can know the feelings of those less unfortunate? Magnifique! I admire your determination.”

·      He proceeded to add praise upon praise towards the Prefect.

·      MC could always expect Rook when they least expected it.

·      It’s just the way he was.

·      NRC students bothering them on the rare moments one of the first-year students wasn’t with them?

·      Grim would be growling, while the Prefect just stared at the bullies with a look of irritation.

·      They really didn’t want to fight anyone during this month.

·      Not only were these students not worth it, but they didn’t want to waste the energy they needed to preserve.

·      The tormentors were in for a surprise when there would be a very accurate arrow flying through the air and barely missing them by a hair’s width.

·      A note would be attached, with a very clearly worded threat.

·      The bullies ran away.

·      MC would laugh to themselves before writing their gratitude on the note and then proceeding to meet up with Ace and Deuce.

·       On the days MC was tired, they would take breaks by the nearby trees on the way to Ramshackle Dorm.

·      They would take a nap and wake up with Rook sitting next to them.

·      His hat covered their head to shade them from the sun, and his outerwear covered them from the light winds.

·      Rook would then proceed to escort them to their dorm.

·      It would be a surprise for MC to find random notes of praise throughout the days.

·      It brought a smile to their face and provided them a boost in energy.

Epel Felmier:

·      Epel was surprised to learn about MC’s traditions and practices.

·      MC could tell how much his respect for them grew.

·      “Prefect, you are so strong! This is awesome!”

·      MC would laugh at his enthusiasm.

·      Epel was another student who would protect MC from other students.

·      It was honestly cute seeing him go feral with Deuce at the opposing students.

·      Not that MC would ever tell him.

·      Epel would teach MC how to carve apples into beautiful designs as a way to distract themselves until the end of the fast came.

·      Epel had ended up telling his family back home about your practices, and the next day he showed up at Ramshackle Dorm with boxes of apples and apple juice.

·      “My family sent some fruits and juice for you. They said it will keep you hydrated.”

·      MC smiled and thanked him, making a note to share some apples with the others later.

·      MC knew how much Epel loved eating meat.

·      They would invite him over whenever they made beef stew.

·      They would secretly invite him over.

·      Rook probably knew but let them be.

·      Probably.

·      If MC was tired, Epel would offer to help them with their skincare routine.

·      “I might not like doing it on myself, but it can be relaxing for others. I guess.”

·      On other days, Epel would tell Vil about MC’s tiredness, hoping he could have the Prefect over to the Pomefiore Dorm to watch over them.

·      Sleepovers with Epel were always fun, and the bed was one of the softest MC had ever felt.

·     MC was touched by the help that their friends gave them during this time. It made the time pass much quicker, and it was fun spending time with them.

See you in the next part! Ignihyde, here we come! Idia, you better be ready 👏👏👏😂😂☺️☺️

[navramanan]

i loooove ramadan because it's a dedicated period of time for me to get my life together. but it always bothers me that i'm not motivated throughout the whole 30 days, y'know?

halfway through i find myself resenting it because i'm so over the fasting & want to get back to "normal" life. and i know that's such a horrible mindset to have because the last ten days are the most important of the 30 😕 and it also doesn't help that periods are there to ruin the momentum lol

anyway, how do you feel about this? (the motivation, not the periods LMAO) i'd love to know your thoughts as a practicising muslim 💗

ps. your rant about muslims doing basic things like fasting in ramadan & praying 5 times a day made me laugh for days. i still laugh whenever i think about it

ramadan kareem to you & ur family!

Ramaden kareem to you lot as well 🫂

I totally get the losing momentum part it's so annoying 😭😭 getting my period kinda ruins part of it for me too, especially when i get it at the start or in the middle. For me it's also been hard to get into the ramadan spirit these past few years, i guess it's a combination of living in the west, going to uni away from my family and not yet having found my place in a muslim community. It actually feels so surreal to me that ramadan starts tomorrow. But it's coming at a perfect time for me because for the past week i've been in a reeeeaally weird spot iman wise and it scares me, i want to find my way back. Inshallah ramadan helps to guide me 🥺🥺🥺 i think tho it's normal to not be fully motivated for the whole of it? Because 30 days is a long time to maintain motivation so i dont think we should beat ourselves up for it too much. But right, it's unfortunate because the last 10 days are especially important. I think if you sit down and make a rough plan for yourself considering the drop in motivation, your ramadan may be more fruitful for you. Thank you for this ask, i always love connecting with muslims, may Allah bless you and guide us all❣️❣️❣️

[lovelylusts]

Hellooooo💘💘 can I ask for prompts if you're okay with it please? Taehyung 33, 50, 87 (if you think they don't mix well, you can arrange it like you want!) Thank you 💛❤💚💙🧡💜🤎🤍🖤

33. “Show me how much you missed me.”

50. “I want it. I want to taste you.”

87. “It’s hot when you talk back.”

not safe for Ramadan under the cut! also i’m sorry this took so long 🙏🙏 i’ve had a rough couple of weeks but i’m gonna try to write to help with my exam anxiety

The months where Taehyung, your boyfriend of many years, was touring were always the most painful. You would visit him when you could; but, of course, you could only have so many days off of work at a time. But today he’d finally be home, sometime in the evening, and you were ecstatic - your baby was finally come back to you.

The hours passed by slower than you had hoped, and cleaning up the house only took up so many of them. Anticipation coursed through your veins as you tried to busy yourself with watching something on Netflix, or placing an order from his favorite takeout place, but you could only focus on the fact that you’d be reunited with Taehyung after a few months.

You were halfway through a show when you heard the front door being unlocked, and you found yourself jumping up from your seat as the door was opening. Taehyung couldn’t even say anything before you were tightly embracing him, pressing kisses all over his face.

“I missed you so much,” you said against his neck.

“Show me how much you missed me,” he said, his deep whisper sending a chill down your spine as he pulled you closer to him, kicking the door shut behind him. Without a word, you were pulling him to the couch, deciding that you were both too impatient to make it to the bedroom.

Taehyung pushed you down against the cool leather, gripping at the waistbands of your leggings and underwear in one go. “Look at that pretty pussy,” he drawled, swiping his thumb over your clit and smirking as your hips bucked beneath him. “I want it. I want to taste you. I’ve missed your pussy so fucking much.”

Every skilled movement of his tongue and hot touch of his fingers made you cry out, your body not used to his ministrations anymore. You were so sensitive, you were surprised you were able to last this long at all. His hands were leaving a bruising grip on your hips, his tongue swirling around your engorged clit.

“T-Taehyung, I’m gonna cum,” you said, barely above a whisper, as you couldn’t entirely focus on your words due to the heat between your legs.

So naturally, he pulled away from you, unable to hide the mischief on his face as started undressing.

“What the fuck?” you whined. “Why did you stop? I was so close!”

“Because I need to be in your pussy,” he said flatly.

“Finish what you started,” you tried to say firmly, though the moments in which you tried to be domineering with him tended to end with intense punishment.

“It’s hot when you talk back,” he started before roughly grabbing your hips to turn you into your stomach, pulling your ass up to arch your back before firmly spanking you, the sound echoing through the otherwise silent living room. “It just gives me a reason to wreck you.”

“Then do your worst,” you teased.

“Do you have work tomorrow?” he asked. He pressed his tip against your slit, teasing you as he rubbed it through your arousal.

“N-no sir.”

“Good.” He pushed in harshly. “Because you’re not gonna be getting much sleep tonight.”

[pac-wo-man]

Miracles of Ramadan

Since I made this tumblr nearing the start of the fasting month, I would like to dedicate my second post to the miracles I have experienced during the holy month of Ramadan. Disclaimer, this may sound rather like a personal spiritual reflection…

And this brings me back to the Ramadan I had in 2019, one that I thought would be the hardest, but Allah made it one of the easiest. --- It was on May, close to the summer solstice, when the day in the northern hemisphere was notably long. I was still living in the Netherlands, and so the fasting hour was long: it would begin at 3:00am CET before sunrise, and ends at Maghrib (sunset hour, the time when we broke our fast) which would call at around 9:30pm CET. Yet, in that month, I had to travel even far north to Tromsø, Norway; for a course study trip that worth 15 credits of my masters. A place where the sun does not even set. Of course it was trip I highly anticipated on, coming from Indonesia, trekking the vast snowy mountain range of the arctic is indeed listed somewhere on my bucket list. On the other hand, I was worried that the trip would ruin my rituals in Ramadan. It crossed my mind to skip a few days of fasting, especially that my family convinced me I was actually eligible to have the exception of not fasting, considering I was a ‘musafir’ (meaning traveler--in which in Islam they may be excused for not fasting). Although, referring to the old tales, its not like I resembled the musafir that spent days on a camel travelling through the dry desert of Sahara in a mission to deliver an important message to….. ok lets not go into that. But anyways, I had my doubts. And as far as I remembered, no one on the trip was fasting too, so I was reluctant.

But somehow my heart whispers: no. don't compromise. keep your fast, because-- I don't actually know because of what. But I felt I really wanted to challenge my faith at that time. And subhanallah, as I set the intention firm, it felt like the world rotated to my favor (at least in my perspective):

1. It was with Ingrid, Judit, Malavika, and Nicole that I shared the cabin with during the extended road trip days. I actually hesitated to let them know as I did not want my routine to disturb them, such as having to wake up early for sahoor or seeking my iftar food in the rural north. But after I let them know, they had my sahoor and iftar food prepared, asking what is halal for me to eat, and say things like 'we won't let you eat bad food after having to starve all day'. Tears! I did not expect such help and tolerance.

2. As I mentioned, the sun only set halfway before it rises back up again in Tromso, Norway. And that’d be around 1 am. So I decided to break my fast at 8pm, following the time of the nearest Muslim country. I don't know how, but I managed to fast that lengthy hour, even on the day where we planned to go trekking up the mountain. Not a recommended activity during the fasting month, but how can I miss an opportunity I may not get another time? Indeed, there is no way a strength like that came from any other but the Creator. I never trained myself to hike, let alone in the fasting month? The exhaustion from the long walk also disappeared instantly as we found a picturesque waterfall of 100 meters tall that is so beautiful I instantly fell to my knees and cried (hehe). MashaaAllah. The moment itself was the most remarkable gift I ever had.

3. We spent most of the time on the road roaming around the site of our fieldwork. Ingrid and Judit were the two taking turns driving the wheels. They always offered to stop every time its my praying time. And the place where I stopped? It's always in the middle of nowhere -- a truly scenic, mesmerizing, *insert more bewildered adjectives here* Norwegian landscape which overwhelmed me as I begun thinking how would ‘a better place than the earth’ look like.

Please allow me to share the view that kept sending me shivers back then (I swear they are better in real life!):

In the end what really what got me was: I don't think it was my even my will anymore to have the determination to keep fasting.

But it was Allah who did not want me to skip it, and he made every situation easy, possible, and beautiful for me to enjoy doing the worship. Alhamdulillah. And so that remained as a precious memory.

The Ramadan in 2019 changed my perspective on how I view obstacles and how to have taqwa (full trust) on Allah when you have already set your intention straight. This helped me to go through the Ramadan in 2020, which was at the start of the worldwide lockdown, as He blessed me with a tiny circle (Hi Wida, Yasmin, Widya, etc!) to quarantine together and venture on a journey inwards. But that’s another story. I pray that you too shall experience the miracles of Ramadan, or get you flying to the Arctic Norway (again if you already have!), and for those of you who are fasting in this pandemic Ramadan--may Allah make it easy for you and grant you barakah in all your efforts.

Ramadan Mubarak,

PAC

[boreothegoldfinch]

chapter 5 paragraph xii

Before Boris, I had borne my solitude stoically enough, without realizing quite how alone I was. And I suppose if either of us had lived in an even halfway normal household, with curfews and chores and adult supervision, we wouldn’t have become quite so inseparable, so fast, but almost from that day we were together all the time, scrounging our meals and sharing what money we had. In New York, I had grown up around a lot of worldly kids—kids who’d lived abroad and spoke three or four languages, who did summer programs at Heidelberg and spent their holidays in places like Rio or Innsbruck or Cap d’Antibes. But Boris—like an old sea captain—put them all to shame. He had ridden a camel; he had eaten witchetty grubs, played cricket, caught malaria, lived on the street in Ukraine (“but for two weeks only”), set off a stick of dynamite by himself, swum in Australian rivers infested with crocodiles. He had read Chekhov in Russian, and authors I’d never heard of in Ukrainian and Polish. He had endured midwinter darkness in Russia where the temperature dropped to forty below: endless blizzards, snow and black ice, the only cheer the green neon palm tree that burned twenty-four hours a day outside the provincial bar where his father liked to drink. Though he was only a year older than me—fifteen—he’d had actual sex with a girl, in Alaska, someone he’d bummed a cigarette off in the parking lot of a convenience store. She’d asked him if he wanted to sit in her car with her, and that was that. (“But you know what?” he said, blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth. “I don’t think she liked it very much.” “Did you?” “God, yes. Although, I’m telling you, I know I wasn’t doing it right. I think was too cramped in the car.”) Every day, we rode home on the bus together. At the half-finished Community Center on the edge of Desatoya Estates, where the doors were padlocked and the palm trees stood dead and brown in the planters, there was an abandoned playground where we bought sodas and melted candy bars from the dwindling stock in the vending machines, sat around outside on the swings, smoking and talking. His bad tempers and black moods, which were frequent, alternated with unsound bursts of hilarity; he was wild and gloomy, he could make me laugh sometimes until my sides ached, and we always had so much to say that we often lost track of time and stayed outside talking until well past dark. In Ukraine, he had seen an elected official shot in the stomach walking to his car—just happened to witness it, not the shooter, just the broad-shouldered man in a too-small overcoat falling to his knees in darkness and snow. He told me about his tiny tin-roof school near the Chippewa reservation in Alberta, sang nursery songs in Polish for me (“For homework, in Poland, we are usually learning a poem or song by heart, a prayer maybe, something like that”) and taught me to swear in Russian (“This is the true mat —from the gulags”). He told me too how, in Indonesia, he had been converted to Islam by his friend Bami the cook: giving up pork, fasting during Ramadan, praying to Mecca five times a day. “But I’m not Muslim any more,” he explained, dragging his toe in the dust. We were lying on our backs on the merry-go-round, dizzy from spinning. “I gave it up a while back.” “Why?” “Because I drink.” (This was the understatement of the year; Boris drank beer the way other kids drank Pepsi, starting pretty much the instant we came home from school.) “But who cares?” I said. “Why does anybody have to know?” He made an impatient noise. “Because is wrong to profess faith if I don’t observe properly. Disrespectful to Islam.” “Still. ‘Boris of Arabia.’ It has a ring.” “Fuck you.”

“No, seriously,” I said, laughing, raising up on my elbows. “Did you really believe in all that?” “All what?” “You know. Allah and Muhammad. ‘There is no God but God’—?” “No,” he said, a bit angrily, “my Islam was a political thing.” “What, you mean like the shoe bomber?” He snorted with laughter. “Fuck, no. Besides, Islam doesn’t teach violence.” “Then what?” He came up off the merry-go-round, alert gaze: “What do you mean, what? What are you trying to say?” “Back off! I’m asking a question.” “Which is—?” “If you converted to it and all, then what did you believe?” He fell back and chortled as if I’d let him off the hook. “Believe? Ha! I don’t believe in anything.” “What? You mean now?” “I mean never. Well—the Virgin Mary, a little. But Allah and God…? not so much.” “Then why the hell did you want to be Muslim?” “Because—” he held out his hands, as he did sometimes when he was at a loss—“such wonderful people, they were all so friendly to me!” “That’s a start.” “Well, it was, really. They gave me an Arabic name—Badr al-Dine. Badr is moon, it means something like moon of faithfulness, but they said, ‘Boris, you are badr because you light everywhere, being Muslim now, lighting the world with your religion, you shine wherever you go.’ I loved it, being Badr. Also, the mosque was brilliant. Falling-down palace—stars shining through at night—birds in the roof. An old Javanese man taught us the Koran. And they fed me too, and were kind, and made sure I was clean and had clean clothes. Sometimes I fell asleep on my prayer rug. And at salah, near dawn, when the birds woke up, always the sound of wings beating!” Though his Australo-Ukrainian accent was certainly very odd, he was almost as fluent in English as I was; and considering what a short time he’d lived in America he was reasonably conversant in amerikanskii ways. He was always poring through his torn-up pocket dictionary (his name scrawled in Cyrillic on the front, with the English carefully lettered beneath: BORYS VOLODYMYROVYCH PAVLIKOVSKY) and I was always finding old 7-Eleven napkins and bits of scratch paper with lists of words and terms he’d made: bridle and domesticate celerity trattoria wise guy = кpymoŭ пaцaн propinquity Dereliction of duty. When his dictionary failed him, he consulted me. “What is Sophomore?” he asked me, scanning the bulletin board in the halls at school. “Home Ec? Poly Sci?” (pronounced, by him, as “politzei”). He had never heard of most of the food in the cafeteria lunch: fajitas, falafel, turkey tetrazzini. Though he knew a lot about movies and music, he was decades behind the times; he didn’t have a clue about sports or games or television, and—apart from a few big European brands like Mercedes and BMW—couldn’t tell one car from another. American money confused him, and sometimes too American geography: in what province was California located? Could I tell him which city was the capital of New England?

But he was used to being on his own. Cheerfully he got himself up for school, hitched his own rides, signed his own report cards, shoplifted his own food and school supplies. Once every week or so we walked miles out of our way in the suffocating heat, shaded beneath umbrellas like Indonesian tribesmen, to catch the poky local bus called the CAT, which as far as I could tell no one rode out our way except drunks, people too poor to have a car, and kids. It ran infrequently, and if we missed it we had to stand around for a while waiting for the next bus, but among its stops was a shopping plaza with a chilly, gleaming, understaffed supermarket where Boris stole steaks for us, butter, boxes of tea, cucumbers (a great delicacy for him), packages of bacon —even cough syrup once, when I had a cold—slipping them in the cutaway lining of his ugly gray raincoat (a man’s coat, much too big for him, with drooping shoulders and a grim Eastern Bloc look about it, a suggestion of food rationing and Soviet-era factories, industrial complexes in Lviv or Odessa). As he wandered around I stood lookout at the head of the aisle, so shaky with nerves I sometimes worried I would black out—but soon I was filling my own pockets with apples and chocolate (other favored food items of Boris’s) before walking up brazenly to the counter to buy bread and milk and other items too big to steal.

Back in New York, when I was eleven or so, my mother had signed me up for a Kids in the Kitchen class at my day camp, where I’d learned to cook a few simple meals: hamburgers, grilled cheese (which I’d sometimes made for my mother on nights she worked late), and what Boris called “egg and toasts.” Boris, who sat on the countertop kicking the cabinets with his heels and talking to me while I cooked, did the washing-up. In the Ukraine, he told me, he’d sometimes picked pockets for money to eat. “Got chased, once or twice,” he said. “Never caught, though.” “Maybe we should go down to the Strip sometime,” I said. We were standing at the kitchen counter at my house with knives and forks, eating our steaks straight from the frying pan. “If we were going to do it, that’d be the place. I never saw so many drunk people and they’re all from out of town.” He stopped chewing; he looked shocked. “And why should we? When so easy to steal here, from so big stores!” “Just saying.” My money from the doormen—which Boris and I spent a few dollars at a time, in vending machines and at the 7-Eleven near school that Boris called “the magazine”—would hold out a while, but not forever. “Ha! And what will I do if you are arrested, Potter?” he said, dropping a fat piece of steak down to the dog, whom he had taught to dance on his hind legs. “Who will cook the dinner? And who will look after Snaps here?” Xandra’s dog Popper he’d taken to calling ‘Amyl’ and ‘Nitrate’ and ‘Popchik’ and ‘Snaps’—anything but his real name. I’d started bringing him in even though I wasn’t supposed to because I was so tired of him always straining at the end of his chain trying to look in at the glass door and yapping his head off. But inside he was surprisingly quiet; starved for attention, he stuck close to us wherever we went, trotting anxiously at our heels, upstairs and down, curling up to sleep on the rug while Boris and I read and quarrelled and listened to music up in my room. “Seriously, Boris,” I said, pushing the hair from my eyes (I was badly in need of a haircut, but didn’t want to spend the money), “I don’t see much difference in stealing wallets and stealing steaks.” “Big difference, Potter.” He held his hands apart to show me just how big. “Stealing from working person? And stealing from big rich company that robs the people?” “Costco doesn’t rob the people. It’s a discount supermarket.” “Fine then. Steal essentials of life from private citizen. This is your so-smart plan. Hush,” he said to the dog, who’d barked sharply for more steak. “I wouldn’t steal from some poor working person,” I said, tossing Popper a piece of steak myself. “There are plenty of sleazy people walking around Vegas with wads of cash.” “Sleazy?” “Dodgy. Dishonest.” “Ah.” The pointed dark eyebrow went up. “Fair enough. But if you steal money from sleazy person, like gangster, they are likely to hurt you, nie?” “You weren’t scared of getting hurt in Ukraine?” He shrugged. “Beaten up, maybe. Not shot.” “Shot?” “Yes, shot. Don’t look surprised. This cowboy country, who knows? Everyone has guns.” “I’m not saying a cop. I’m saying drunk tourists. The place is crawling with them Saturday night.” “Ha!” He put the pan down on the floor for the dog to finish off. “Likely you will end up in jail, Potter. Loose morals, slave to the economy. Very bad citizen, you.”

[homomedia]

hope you don't mind me asking, but I wasn't in the Skam Fandom when OG season 4 aired, so I just wanted to know what the general issue with Sanas season was?

Holy shit this warrants an entire fucking book, but just for quickness sake:

Sana’s conflict is liking a guy that isn’t Muslim, the explanation for him leaving his faith (Islam) behind is Even reading the Quran and trying to kill himself for it, which is so...??? Muslims discuss the Quran, its interpretation and teaching is not like set in stone and this really was a superficial explanation to create the drama since Sana is observant and of course would want to be with a muslim boy, it’s important because it shapes their entire lives, but the way Julie Andem did it was so superficial you don’t actually see that much of an actual conflict and its complexity so it is just drama.

Sana doesn’t really talk about her religion or the way it shapes her life, it isn’t shown either, THE SEASON made a point of showing us misery porn, and racism porn, like they showed us everything bad that comes with being muslim and brown, but not once the show made real attempts at showing us how it is her comfort and a deeply ingrained and lovely part of her life as religion is supposed to be.

Halfway through the season, Noora conflict took over, Sana was isolated, an unspoken shitstorm happened between the boys squad and the balloon squad with the implication that the brown boys were homophobic towards Even and Isak, absolute bullshit for transparent fucking drama.

Yousef, the ex Muslim guy Sana likes kissed Noora for no fucking reason and it is never given, Sana is made to be jealous of Noora, one of the oldest tropes for women of color in media in which they are shown to be envious a white character's traits, really fucking shitty because it implies people of color want whiteness...

Sana was isolated, completely, it is understandable, but the reasons for it? Wholly pathetic, racist and degrading, Sana decides to punish some of the bullies at her school because she got fucking tired and were taking over the Russebuss that Sana was supposed to be chief of, she heard them saying racist shit about her and her brother and friends and decided to leak the racist, misogynist shit of one of the girls, the one taking over as boss incidentally, and the show actually made a point of saying that that Sana retaliating against the racism she experiences day to fucking day is as bad as exposing a fucking racist, WHICH IS NOT.

Because of this Sana got isolated and her friends didn’t even say shit about the racism she was facing, they didn’t come to her, they didn’t check on her, the tension was resolved with a cutesy scene of “we never were gonna leave you behind”, while they made Sana apologise and in no moment there was the barest hint that maybe the white racist girl should apologise too for all the shit she’s been saying about Sana, like wtf Julie Andem?

Sana retaliates by using Isak’s fb messages with Sara, because they used to talk, and Sara was always telling all the mean shit to Isak, Isak finds out and they talk about it, he decides to take the fall but BEFORE THAT, he fucking decides to tell her that it’s her DAMN JOB TO FUCKING EDUCATE RACISTS, they make a parallel between being gay and being muslim and brown, and ffs it is not the same fucking experience, it really is not, and they had ISAK WHITESPLAIN RACISM TO A MUSLIM BROWN GIRL, THE FUCKING TONE DEAFNESS IS SHOUTING NOW!

Noora (Manon)’s problems with William took over Sana’s narrative, to the point Sana was the one fixing them, the conflict live I’ve said was resolved superficially and not once does Sana get to call out her own friends from abandoning her, not protecting her from racist and islamophobic remaks as well as Vilde (Daphné)’s usual racist remarks.

The show presentation of Ramadan was so goddamn shallow, completely superficial and even had a shitty line of the virgins in paradise that most shows with the most pathetic muslim rep always put for some goddamn obsessed reason.

The last episode of her season was devoted to other people. She got kicked out of her own damn narrative.

This is entirely fandom related: every single one of these instances was used to silence and harass muslim fans, because white fans just couldn’t deal with Julie Andem not being their perfect lilly white girl that gave them their mlm season, because of that a lot of muslim fans deleted, or left the fandom, I haven’t seen harassment and islamophobic shit this concentrated ever in a fandom, like it really took me by surprise that fans were behaving like this when they were preaching that the show was about having discussions and yet they were silencing muslim voices at every damn turn!

The aforementioned islamophobia was accompanied with the white fans clearly fetishizing Even and Isak by just caring about their scenes during the Sana season, most refused to reblog or engage with muslim fans discussing the show’s issues and how it could be better, like what really gets me is that muslim fans were so open to discuss it all, and they were so fucking gentle and yet white fans stereotyped them as aggresive and too demanding, and bad rep is really just worse than no rep and this season showed that.

For now is what I can remember. I’ve made previous posts about it but the thing is, Sana’s season was racist and the white fandom stood by it and that will never not irk me, because it really showed how little people actually care about learning to be better when it comes to race and religion.

Edit: That being said...

I ask of you, SKAMFR FANS, for this season to listen and to boost voices of Muslim and black fans because this is their experience and we don't get to fucking talk over it.

EDIT 2: they did not SKAM France fandom actually showed their white supremacist asses and belittled and chased away almost all fans of color of the fandom once again and added antiblackness to the mixture along with everything I just stated and they did the exact same thing as SKAM og fandoms and masturbated and demanded more backwater french trash Isak and Even while Imane remained abused and forgotten and serving a white narrative.

I sincerely hope white people die off the earth.

[thewritingpanda]

A Different Perspective

"in everything you do, always be kind"

It was the 14th of the holy month, Ramadan came in hot days that year. I had a package to deliver across the city from my dad to my uncle, perks of having a son I guess. A cup of coffee sat on the table in front of the TV, I was putting my shoes on and listening to the news. It was a terrible time to be alive, terrorists were spreading like a plague, people were not thinking straight, if they are different then they are not worthy, that is what they said. It didn't matter what religion you followed as long as you didn't follow and heed their radical ideology. I turned off the TV and took the last sip of my coffee, it was cold and bitter, a lovely start to a long commute I thought. I always choose public transportation over the car when it is a long distance, I don't like traffic, the sound of the car horns and people fighting to break fast is nerve wrecking, so I choose to put my headphones in my ears and forget everything around me, hoping I would reach my destination fast before I suffocate in the zombie like crowd. It is a 2 kilometers walk to the bus that would take me to the subway station, from there it would be a 45 mins ride to my destination. The sun was blistering, I looked at the distance and I could see heat waves dancing from the asphalt, it was only but 5 minutes until I started feeling sweaty. Halfway to the bus, I realized that I had forgotten my headphones, however, there was no way I would go back for them so I kept moving. There isn't really much to do when you walk in an empty street so I had my gaze down, following the road, and to my surprise I found 100 pounds lying there on the ground. I looked around me, thought of calling out if someone lost this, but decided that it would be to no avail so I put it in my front pocket away from my wallet; it wasn't mine after all. The bus ride to the station was sticky to say the least, the concept of personal space flies out the window when everyone is in a hurry, no one waits for the next bus, they just pile up over each other like a basket of apples, sweaty angry apples that is. Despite being very crowded, the bus was completely silent, no one was talking, there was an old man fiddling a sebha with his fingers and murmuring prayers. His hands were wrinkled, but not out of age only, I could tell that he was a craftsman of some sorts. My observations were soon interrupted by the bus coming to a sudden stop, we were there already. I wasn't in a hurry to get out and squeeze myself through the crowd like the rest of the people, neither was the old man it seemed. I headed for the stairs when I heard a voice "come on dad, let's get you home", I hadn't noticed the woman who said this before, maybe because she was sitting. "yes dear, by all means let's go". The woman was carrying a large bag over her head, it was mesmerizing how she moved naturally with such grace. She took the old man's right hand and brought him down the stairs, I thought it was touching how she kissed his forehead afterwards. It wasn't just a regular kiss, it was a kiss that showed her gratitude and appreciation to all the things he had done for her, and now it was her time to take care of him; it was a kiss of pure kindness and selflessnness. I looked at them as they walked away not noticing that it had been 5 mins already since I left the bus and started watching them.

The metro station was a mess to say the least, I couldn't take a breath without someone else sharing the air with me. After a long 10 mins I managed to get my ticket, deep down I knew this was not gonna be fun. On the platform, people had no respect for rules, once the door opened it was war. Those coming out of the train would try to shove those going in on the sides so they could get out, and those going in would do the opposite to get in. Me, I stood there watching, knowing that there is a split second at the end that would be my opportunity to get in, sure enough it came and I was in. A few stations later, the train was now semi empty. I rested my head on the pole behind me taking a deep breath as a sigh of relief. "hey mister, do you know what time it is?" I let the breath out, it was the sound of a little boy. I looked at him with a smile and extended my arm for him to see the clock clearly "how about you tell me", the kid paused as he looked at my cheap watch, he kept shifting his eyes between me and the watch. "you can't tell what time it is?" the kid looked down on the ground, I made him feel bad unintentionally. "I still have 6 stations to go, I can teach you if you want" "really?" the kid looked at me, his face lit up, I nooded. The next five to ten minutes I taught the kid everything there is to learn how to read a clock, I have never seen such an enthusiastic kid eager to learn something this simple, I remembered mogli and was thinking of telling the kid, but I shook the idea off, I didn't want to talk about something else he may not know. "and that is how you tell what time it is" I said with a smile "that is so cool, can you please ask me what time it is in a bit mister" I nodded. The train stopped at the station I have been waiting for "well, that's my stop kiddo" I patted the kid on the shoulder gently "me too!", what are the odds.

It had been a long while since I last came to shoubra, the place hasn't really changed that much, the same old buildings, the crowded streets, well they were more crowded now but it looked the same to me. "so which way are you going mister?" I really didn't know so I decided to ask the kid, he looked like he knew his way around here "I have no idea, I am looking for the big square" I looked around looking lost, I really wanted the kid to feel good about helping "oh I know where that is, this way!". I started following the kid as he started small conversation "you know mister, I really love shoubra, it is full of good people" I agreed, I spent alot of my childhood here so I know a thing or two about shoubra. The kid continued "the only problem is that they are mostly Christians" well that was unexpected. I didn't reply and I waited for him to continue "father told me they are bad" I had to ask "why is that?" the kid looked at me with all the innocence in the world "because they are different". Look at what the world has come to, we teach our kids that different means bad. I could 't bear to think what this kid would grow up into, would he bully others? Would he live his life hating those who are "different"? "we are here mister!". He did know his way around, it was a large square with towering buildings that stood tall like a concrete jungle. Each building had tons of air Conditioners and office signs; finding the right building was like finding a needle in a haystack." so, which one is it mister?" I looked down at the kid with a smile then up at the buildings again "I honestly have no idea kiddo". "well I can't read, call someone if you can". I pulled my phone out and called my uncle, he told me to look for a big red sign. "we are looking for a big red sign on the fifth floor kiddo" the kid looked around then pointed behind me "right there mister!". I was impressed by the kids wit and how fast he scanned the area "thank you kiddo, well I guess I have to go". "yeah me too, I need to pray to break my fast, I am probably going to eat koshary, it is all I can afford". That last sentence made me frown, he has a pure soul yet he is being raised in harsh conditions. The kid waved at me goodbye and started to walk away, I was looking for a way to make him happy so I called out "hey kiddo! You forgot to tell me what time it is". The kid turned back and ran towards me, he looked at my hand watch "according to this it is 6:15". "clever boy" I put my phone in my pocket to shake his hand properly, then I felt a piece of paper.... The 100 pounds! There was no better timing than this!. I got down on my knees so I can see the kid eye to eye, put one hand on his shoulder. "listen kiddo, I know that life can be harsh sometimes. I know you have hopes and dreams that you want to achieve. You want to read, you want to live healthy and happy. I know" the kid's eyes started tearing, he wiped them off "I want to be a pilot so I can fly and see the world" I frowned sadly "I can tell you'd make a great pilot with your fast paced wits. I want you to know that you are different, and that doesn't mean you are bad. It just means you are unique, the same goes to everyone." I pulled the 100 pounds out of my pocket "here I want you to have this" the kid looked at me with gleamy eyes "really?" I nodded "go home and buy something to eat for your family and don't you ever give up on your dreams" the kid hugged me crying "thank you mister" I looked at him "Andrew, my name is Andrew" the kid looked at me "that is a different name, a unique one" he laughed. "remember this kid, whatever God you believe in, we all come from the same one". I looked at my watch, breaking fast was 20 mins away "oh hey, look at the time, you better get going" the kid looked at me with a smile and said "thank you". I stood up as I watched the kid run, he would 't get lost, he' s a clever kid.

One hour later, I came down the stairs of the building. My mission was complete, it was time to head home. The streets looked nothing like they were on my way there. They were now empty, no cars, just kids playing everywhere. The metro station had no one but me. I bought my ticket with no hassle at all and waited on the empty platform. Soon enough the metro arrived and I was glad to be on my way home. It had been ages since I last sat in the metro train, there was only 3 people around; an old man, his son, and his wife. I sat down tired, exhausted from the heat, and I had forgotten to buy water. I heard a familiar crackle of plastic, it was the sound of a water bottle. "I know you want to drink son, but remember what we said about kindness?" I opened my eye and so the little boy walk up to me "do you want some water sir?" I looked at the boy smiling, I was not ready to drink a fasting boy's water "no thank you, I'll be fine, you go on and drink" the boy stood there looking at his father. "come on, don't be shy have a sip you look exhausted" the man said to me. "I didn't fast sir, I am Christian I am sure your son is thirsty" the old man gave out a tumbling laugh "so Christians don't get thirsty? You are human, you are thirsty, just have a drink" I admit, I didn't expect such kindness from a stranger, kiddo must have thought the same about me. I took the bottle from the son and took a sip of water, I felt refreshed as if this sip brought me back to life. I gave the bottle back to the little boy, he ran towards his parents. "how did it feel son? Are you happy you helped this man?" the boy nodded with a smile "now you can drink, and remember always be kind to everyone". The next station the family left after saying goodbye. I sat there in an empty Train thinking how my act of kindness was repaid. Perhaps everything happens for a reason, the old man's lesson to his son was a lesson for me too. As the metro came to a stop, I told myself to remember that regardless of our differences and beliefs, our way of life, and our hopes and dreams, we are all human who come from the same place. My final thought leaving the train was that in everything I do, I will always be kind.

[qwerty97]

8.47PM 08.04.21

I am in the big room with my laptop on my lap, the room is a mess. Earlier mum told me to open the exits in the house so we could air out and it has left cold, it’s not so bad, just the cold that attacks the tips of your fingers and toes, the heating has come on anyway. The TV is showing a slideshow of Netflix shows because I left it on for too long. 

I have started to clear out my phone gallery and I have found some awesome memes that I have had to get rid of - the laugh was fun. I hope to find more memes like them in future.

Anyway, I found a cool knock knock joke - 

Knock Knock.

Who’s there?

Baby Yoda.

Baby Yoda who?

Baby Yoda one for me.

Lol

Mum made kebabs to freeze today but I ate some and now I continuously feel thirsty. Mum has said I must deep clean the house on the weekend, I guess it’s for Ramadan. I am halfway through my painting but if I am honest I am getting bored - best to leave it for when I feel like it. The other day Maymuna left a bora on it which was oily but I checked today and there is no sign of it Alhamdullillah.

I also found some really cool Ramadan memes that I will email to everyone once Ramadan starts. 

Omg! Have I mentioned how extremely annoying our telephone ring is? It makes me panic, could be because it is so much like an alarm.

I’m going to pray some Quran now, then pray Esha and probably watch something and go to bed.

My clothes are in the dryer and my room is a mess so I will have to sort that out before I decide to sleep.

X

[xtruss]

Suez Canal Re-Opens After Stuck Cargo Ship Is Freed

— BY Isabel DeBre And Samy Magdy

SUEZ, Egypt (AP) — Salvage teams on Monday finally freed the colossal container ship stuck for nearly a week in the Suez Canal, ending a crisis that had clogged one of the world’s most vital waterways and halted billions of dollars a day in maritime commerce.

A flotilla of tugboats, helped by the tides, wrenched the bulbous bow of the skyscraper-sized Ever Given from the canal’s sandy bank, where it had been firmly lodged since March 23.

The tugs blared their horns in jubilation as they guided the Ever Given through the water after days of futility that had captivated the world, drawing scrutiny and social media ridicule.

“We pulled it off!” said Peter Berdowski, CEO of Boskalis, the salvage firm hired to extract the Ever Given. “I am excited to announce that our team of experts, working in close collaboration with the Suez Canal Authority, successfully refloated the Ever Given … thereby making free passage through the Suez Canal possible again.”

Navigation in the canal resumed at 6 p.m. local time (1600 GMT, noon EDT) said Lt. Gen. Osama Rabei, head of the Suez Canal Authority, adding that the first ships that were moving carried livestock. From the city of Suez, ships stacked with containers could be seen exiting the canal into the Red Sea.

At least 113 of over 420 vessels that had waited for Ever Given to be freed are expected to cross the canal by Tuesday morning, Rabei added at a news conference.

Analysts expect it could take at least another 10 days to clear the backlog on either end.

The Ever Given sailed to the Great Bitter Lake, a wide stretch of water halfway between the north and south ends of the canal, for inspection, said Evergreen Marine Corp., a Taiwan-based shipping company that operates the ship.

Buffeted by a sandstorm, the Ever Given had crashed into a bank of a single-lane stretch of the canal about 6 kilometers (3.7 miles) north of the southern entrance, near the city of Suez. That created a massive traffic jam that held up $9 billion a day in global trade and strained supply chains already burdened by the coronavirus pandemic.

Rabei said an investigation would determine why the Ever Given got stuck, and he estimated daily losses to the canal of between $12 million to $15 million.

“The Suez Canal is not guilty of what happened. We are the ones who suffered damage.” he said.

At least 367 vessels, carrying everything from crude oil to cattle, had backed up to wait to traverse the canal. Dozens of others have taken the long, alternate route around the Cape of Good Hope at Africa’s southern tip — a 5,000-kilometer (3,100-mile) detour that costs ships hundreds of thousands of dollars in fuel and other costs.

The canal is a source of national pride and crucial revenue for Egypt, and President Abdel Fattah el-Sissi praised Monday’s events after days of silence about the blockage.

“Egyptians have succeeded in ending the crisis,” he wrote on Facebook, “despite the massive technical complexity.”

In the village of Amer, which overlooks the canal, residents cheered as the vessel moved along. Many scrambled to get a closer look while others mockingly waved goodbye to the departing ship from their fields of clover

“Mission accomplished,” villager Abdalla Ramadan said. “The whole world is relieved.”

The U.S. Embassy in Cairo tweeted its congratulations to Egypt.

The breakthrough followed days of immense effort with an elite salvage team from the Netherlands. Tugboats pushed and pulled to budge the behemoth from the shore, their work buoyed by high tide at dawn Monday that led to the vessel’s partial refloating. Specialized dredgers dug out the stern and vacuumed sand and mud from beneath the bow.

The operation was extremely delicate. While the Ever Given was stuck, the rising and falling tides put stress on the vessel, which is 400 meters (a quarter mile) long, raising concerns it could crack.

Rabei praised the team, saying they “achieved a very difficult mission in record time,” without damaging the vessel or its cargo.

Berdowski told Dutch radio station NPO 1 the company had always believed it would be the two powerful tugboats it sent that would free the ship. Monday’s strong tide “helped push the ship at the top while we pulled at the bottom and luckily it shot free,” he said.

“We were helped enormously by the strong falling tide we had this afternoon. In effect, you have the forces of nature pushing hard with you and they pushed harder than the two sea tugs could pull,” Berdowski added.

The crew on the tugs was “euphoric,“ but there also was a tense moment when the huge ship was floating free ”so then you have to get it under control very quickly with the tugs around it so that it doesn’t push itself back into the other side” of the canal, he said.

Jubilant workers on a tugboat sailing with the Ever Given chanted, “Mashhour, No. 1,” referring to the dredger that worked around the vessel. The dredger is named for Mashhour Ahmed Mashhour, assigned to run the canal with others when it was nationalized in 1956 by President Gamal Abdel-Nasser.

Once the Ever Given is inspected in Great Bitter Lake, officials will decide whether the Panama-flagged, Japanese-owned ship hauling goods from Asia to Europe would continue to its original destination of Rotterdam or head to another port for repairs.

The crisis cast a spotlight on the vital trade route that carries over 10% of global trade, including 7% of the world’s oil. Over 19,000 ships ferrying Chinese-made consumer goods and millions of barrels of oil and liquified natural gas flow through the artery from the Middle East and Asia to Europe and North America.

The unprecedented shutdown, which raised fears of extended delays, goods shortages and rising costs for consumers, has prompted new questions about the shipping industry, an on-demand supplier for a world under pressure from the pandemic.

“We’ve gone to this fragile, just-in-time shipping that we saw absolutely break down in the beginning of COVID,” said Capt. John Konrad, the founder and CEO of the shipping news website gcaptain.com. “We used to have big, fat warehouses in all the countries where the factories pulled supplies. … Now these floating ships are the warehouse.”

International trade expert Jeffrey Bergstrand predicted “only a minor and transitory effect” on prices of U.S. imports.

“Since most of the imports blocked over the last week are heading to Europe, U.S. consumers will likely see little effect on prices of U.S. imports, except to the extent that intermediate products of U.S. final goods are made in Europe,” said Bergstrand, professor of finance at the University of Notre Dame’s Mendoza College of Business.

— DeBre reported from Dubai, United Arab Emirates. Associated Press writers Mike Corder in The Hague, Netherlands, and Jon Gambrell in Dubai contributed.

[lindoig1]

Another Day in the Country    Day 18

We had a wonderful day today. Our driver arrived a bit earlier than planned so we were on our way by 9:50 for our drive to Bukhara, via Shakhrisabz, total distance between 4 and 5 hundred kilometres, I think. Our hotel had been really great too - a family homestay as much as a hotel. All very informal, people couldn’t do enough to help us, beautiful setting with big shade trees, just lovely.  And I loved the tapchans where we had breakfast.  I think I may have tried to describe them before I found a name for them.  They are raised carpeted platforms, often with a shady canopy, with cushions and often a table on which is spread an endless variety of food.  Not as comfortable as our recliners at home, but when in Samarkand, do as the Samarkandans do!  Or Bukhara or anywhere else in the East .

It was a truly spectacular trip: the best day of our trip so far we think. The first part was very mountainous with parts very steep and rocky and others less so put painted in a hundred shades of rich greens. There were little valleys running at all angles, all with small streams rushing to lower ground. Often there were quaint old farm houses, squeezed in between the trees, almost hidden from the road, secluded and often isolated from any visible neighbours. In the flatter areas there were large areas of land under cultivation, all being tilled, raked, planted, weeded, tended and harvested by hand. Many times we saw what appeared to be a family group of 6 or 8 out in the middle of a huge paddock, ‘ploughing’ it with hoes and spades, sometimes weeding by hand - a truly daunting job by our standards. Absolutely no mechanical assistance until we were well over halfway to Bukhara and then every second or third farm seemed to have a small tractor. Even then though, we only saw one small plough. The tractors seemed to be used exclusively for transport, hauling small wagons laden to the sky with fodder, firewood, produce for market and so on.

Along the road were many fake police cars. They looked somewhat real as you approached them, often with a cop standing beside them, but they are only a couple of inches thick. They are often illuminated at night and as a warning to motorists that the boys in blue are on the lookout for bad driving. Which brings me to roads. There are a variety of roads starting with the (sort of, maybe, possibly, moderately) good ones. Obviously, the best part of these roads is the crown so everyone hogs that part of the road, irrespective of which direction they are travelling. At 100kph, you are still bouncing around a bit and you have a stream of cars approaching at similar speeds, honking and flashing their lights in an endeavour not to have to yield their bit of the crown to you. Very scary and it beats me how they don’t have 1000 road kills every day. Then there are the not-so-good roads of which there are 3 types: the roads with potholes in the pavement, those with pavement between the potholes and those with potholes between the potholes. Interesting that most of the roads are really wide - 8-10 cars wide, so there are lots of choices as to where to drive. Everyone drives on the right side of the road in Asia except for the 90% that use the extreme left side until they have to move back to allow oncoming vehicles to pass. It is certainly an adventure, but our driver was excellent - none of us got killed yesterday. Fnigres coressed for tomorrow.

We had a couple of stops along the way to take photos at the most spectacular spots, including one with a bit of a market where we bought some dried apricots and dates as nibbles. It is of course Ramadan so our driver didn’t participate. We arrived at Shakhrisabz about 11:30 and our driver dropped us near the gate of the old partly-restored Citadel and told us he would wait for us at the other end of the complex. It was another huge area of gardens, slightly discreet fun parks and sideshows, a couple of mosques, a string of fancy hotels and of course the ruins of Timur’s Citadel and a really big statue of the big man himself. It was well over a kilometre to walk through the gardens, but it was pleasant with a few birds to try to see and some pleasant plantings - and a scattering of people all wanting to say hello and have their photos taken with the foreigners. Maybe we should start charging for all the photos? It is not an issue, but it seems odd to us that anyone would want to be photographed with us.

Everyone has a job here. I saw three women ‘mowing’ quite a large patch of lawn with hand shears. Every square inch of the towns seems to be under the head of a besom at least daily, wielded mainly by older women. There are quite a lot of litter pickers and everything is spotless - even the railings, plant- pots, and street furniture is scrubbed or wiped down regularly. I can’t imagine any need for the dole here. A lesson for Oz?

At the end of our walk, our driver pointed us to a nearby restaurant for lunch.

He said it was 5-star and we were the only ones there for a while and we thought it might cost us a bomb, but we had an excellent meal with all the extras for under $A12! A big tourist group arrived halfway through our meal so it was good that we got our orders in before them. Talking about food, I meant to mention our breakfasts at the hotel in the last 2 days. You arrive to find 16 dishes of various goodies waiting on the table and a little old lady cook buzzing around taking orders for cooked meals and drinks. There are several different salads, fruits, pastries, breads, yoghurt, you name it and the offer of more if you are dissatisfied with the variety. Amazing, and amazingly scrumptious.

After lunch, it was off to Bukhara, much of the afternoon through Aussie-looking desert - we felt quite at home. We passed some massive natural gas plants and our driver told us that it all gets piped to Russia where some is used, but most is exported to bolster the rouble with precious little coming back to Uzbekistan.

It was a wonderful day, quite relaxing, lots of interesting and very beautiful things to see and being so much closer to the ordinary country folk, we saw a lot more about how they lived. For example, I was fascinated by the thatched rooves and others made of corrugated iron or asbestos all held in place by big rocks instead of nails. We saw both cultivation and pastoral pursuits up close - cattle, sheep, goats, horses and camel farms (both types) - even stopped for photos. A lot of Uzbeks simply stand on the side of the road with their bundles waiting for some kind person to stop and offer them a ride to town or the market - the Uzbek version of hitchhiking and apparently very normal. (I later found out that anyone with a vehicle can provide a taxi service – and we have used this ourselves too – you just hold your hand out until someone stops, negotiate an absurdly low fare and jump in.  If the price is not right or your destination conflicts with the objectives of the other passengers, the driver simply drives off and you wait a couple of minutes until someone else stops who is happier with your offer.) It is apparently entirely safe and is the main way people get around – and it provides a good supplementary income for many of the drivers who may take 3 or 4 passengers to different destinations in one trip.  Another common thing in rural areas is the practice of mainly women and children standing beside their gates gossiping and watching the world go by. I’m sure it is a hard life for most people, but a much slower pace and from all indications pretty safe.

Bukhara seems quite a big city, but my guide the next day said it has a population of only 350,000. Our hotel is in the very centre of the old city and is quite comfortable, but it was a loooong walk with all our baggage from the nearest place the car could get to the hotel Reception area up an alley. But we are settled in and comfortable. One interesting thing is that there are no tea/coffee making facilities or minibars in Central Asia - although they are pretty good at providing them if you ask. But there are always two bottles of water and it is quite cheap to buy more.