#tahira speaks

[boysbeware2]

all the old tptm girl journal entries w the new (if anyone wants to see them again and compare them)

please proceed with caution as many of these could be upsetting to read

disposable girl (jordyn)

(old)

i cant fucking stand this. i try so goddamn hard to make friends, to be attractive to people, to be even somewhat appealing to them etc etc. it never works. i thought it would get better the older i get. thats what i was told. guess what! i was fucking lied to!!! im alwasy left out of EVERYTHING i never get invited to shit and my own friends ignore me all the time. everyone looks at me weird. i cant go in public anymore im so fucking terrified of everyone. nobody fuckinf wants me, man. im so close to doing something stupid i feel so gross and ugly and dumb i should actually just die id be doing everyone a favor LOL

(new)

man, i havent been on here in forever. the internet is kind of dumb. what is there to say? my friend group celebrated our outpatient graduation anniversary the other day, that was pretty nice. we’re all trying to figure out housing stuff, nora’s been helping with that. freyja + mayra + kairi found a place already (how are they so responsible??) and the rest of us are trying to find places near them so we can visit more often. i never expected to have such a big group of friends. if you told me 2 years ago that i’d be living like this, i wouldn’t believe you. it’s still surreal to me. i’m not sure what i did to deserve them. same goes for my girlfriends. i don’t wanna say who just yet, we’re still figuring things out, but i’m just so thankful for them. i feel so lucky to have a second chance at life. i really didn’t believe people when they said it would get better, and then it did. how funny…..

irreverent girl (kairi)

(old)

I do not want God to see me anymore. I do not want anymore eyes on me. This is near unbearable. I have no one to turn to. My mother is in the church. Many of my friends are in the church. They would tell me to find hope through Christ. They would tell me to pray to Him. They would tell me that He will save me. He must not remember He made me, and if He does, He simply does not care. I know this is unbecoming of me, and I don't mean to be dramatic. I am simply depressed, nervous, and I cannot tell what's real and what isn't anymore. I know I'm supposed to hear God speaking to me, but I do not, and I am tired of straining my ears. I just want to see a doctor. I want some kind of tangible solution. I do not want to pray anymore. Praying hurts. I only do it when I am afraid, but I am afraid much of the time. I don't want to be unheard anymore. I do not want to hold out hope for someone who does not act like they're there. I am hurting. I am hurting. I am hurting. Belief is hurting me. The idea of God is hurting me. I need an out. I am hurting.

(new)

When I have a job and money and I can move away from my shitty Mormon parents

splitter girl (tahira)

(old)

theres something so broken in me thats beyond saving. so i dont know why i keep trying to be saved. i meant to kill myself when i was 18. i didnt. all ive wanted to do lately is kill someone or something. i havent. im too much of a pussy to plan anything concrete, no matter how much i hate everyone around me. no matter how much i get off to videos of people dying or how much i love cutting myself i cant actually take action against other people. i am fucking purposeless. i was born from evil and i will always be evil and i cant even live up to that. i hate myself i hate myself i HATE myself and the universe hates me too. i dont know what to fucking do at this point. i talked to one of my friends about wantingto die and they said smthn about hospitalizing myself. maybe. i dunno. i dont know what else there is for me/. my eyes are fucking burning from lookign at my computer for so long adn not getting any goddamn sleep. i am not a good person. i dont think i can be helped but i just dont wanna fucking keep goign to school and being around people and pretending like everything is norma;l. i cant keep doing it. what the fuck is wrong with me whagt happened. why cant i be loved or feel love for other people when did something change in me that switched the aggression and affection parts of my brain. im hyperventilating ill be back. maybe

(new)

getting myself onigiri from this one good boba place 2nite bc im 8 months clean…… its the little things~ ^^

fainéant girl (freyja)

(old)

i know i dont hate being disabled... i just hate being disabled in a society that makes existing difficult... but sometimes i really just dont want to be disabled anymore. i dont want my family to lecture me about how i could be helping out more, or how i should get a job. i dont want teachers to keep asking me whats wrong or the fuckin uni counselor to try to get me hospitalized. i dont want to be in so much pain anymore, to feel so exhausted that i cant even do so much as prepare food for myself, let alone do anything meaningful or fulfilling. its not fair. i shouldnt have to stay inside and sit in the dark all day,. i should be able to have friends. to talk to people and to go out with them and to feel like i am alive. its lonely and traumatic to suffer through this and on top of that no one around me understands, and they never fully will. i am tired of trying to justify my existence to everyone, to explain the pain that i am in and why i shouldnt have to experience it. i know the problem isnt me. i know i live in a world that isnt built for me. but if the world cant change then sometimes i truly feel that i should just stop living in it. my lifespan is already shorter than everyone else's anyways. what difference does it make

(new)

my qpps didnt seem to appreciate me playing Alien Kids Alien Rap for them. Do they even love me

caliber girl (nora)

(old)

��～It is 3 AM and I should go to sleep but I can’t. I have a work zoom meeting early in the morning and I gotta hit the gym also because I haven’t done leg day in like… weeks. Oh well, it doesn’t even matter. My value is depleting but I don’t think I care anymore. The turnaround date for my code is also in a couple of days and I haven’t made any progress. I keep getting the same error and I’m too tired to figure out what’s wrong. I might get fired at this rate LOL(笑). If that happens, I think I’ll just consider ending it all. Not that anybody will miss me. God I sound so weak and pathetic right now. When did it get like this. How did it get like this. I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’ve been through worse before and this is nothing. Ugh, why is it so hard to breathe? My chest hurts and I feel like something is wrong but I don’t know how to make it go away. Should I call someone about this? No. No one is awake or around to help. I’ll be fine. I’ll just sleep it off. Shake it off… shake it off…

(new)

My Tamagotchi beeped during a meeting fml

chocolate box girl (morgan)

(old)

i thought i was doing better but i cant stop thinking about them. their touch, their interests, their smile, everything. the worst part is that i miss them, after all of what they've done to me. i was 13. i dont even feel justified calling it rape since our relationship was so muddy... they never yelled at me or was angry at me, they just got so sad when i tried to speak my mind, and got all my friends to hate me when we finally broke up. i never said no so i feel like im insulting actual survivors by feeling violated. i wasnt even trying to get into a relationship with them, it just happened... i feel like everyone around me wants me in the same way they did, even though im an adult now and i dont even try to make myself appealing. i wish i could trust people not to take advantage of me, and i feel disgusting and selfish for feeling like everyone has ulterior motives of getting me to fall in love with them, or worse. that's so self centered of me. i dont know how long i can keep doing this

(new)

girl help i cant stop looking at anime figures on japan yahoo auctions !!!!!

taxidermy girl (mayra)

(old)

I don't remember ever not having a sex drive, is that normal ? I was born and then it was all downhill from there, something happened to me sexually i think, I don't know what happened, because I don't remember much, but something happened and I was beaten for it and yelled at and my mother hated me, and now I am an adult and I try to have sex, and I'm not there mentally, even if my body is participating, I feel like I am in the past again, being beaten and yelled at . I want to keep trying, I want to have fun, to feel safe in someone else's arms, to reach the heights of pleasure, but my mind scares me so much, I haven't been able to eat anything today because I feel so horrified by my body . If I was good I would have been born as a nonsexual being, no parts, no desires, no instincts, a blank slate, too empty to be enjoyed . Do you know what it feels like, to have your mother tell you people want to sexually abuse you when you are a child, and then to be made fun of by your peers for being so ugly, to have your middle school and high school classmates joke about how much they don't want to have sex with you ? I am illicit and undesirable at the same time, I am everyone's last option, I am nothing and still too much, rotting deer meat on the side of the road . I wish I had been born as something beautiful and pure, I wish I could start over, that whatever that initial sin was had never been committed .. I want to start over

(new)

Went to a kink event the other night and everyone was so nice … The low lights were fucking with my vision so one of the hosts helped me navigate the place . I ❤️ you random disabled ally with a pup mask on

chemical girl (joy)

(old)

LMAOOOOO im too angry and miserable to be around. i think i just need to give up at this point because theres clearly like. something broken inside me that cant be fixed. that has 2 be it because i try to talk and i just sound cold, i try to make a joke and it comes out overly edgy and unfunny, i try to be like everyone else but its too much. i cant even be a collection of the positive traits i see in others, i try to replicate it and it comes out warped and wrong. im either fucking enraged or in abject misery or way too happy and nobody can keep up with me. the thing is i dont even blame them. i wouldnt want to be around me either. do u know what thats like? being someone you wouldnt want to know? i keep hoping that one day ill wake up and suddenly be normal, the mood swings will be gone and everyone will like me and i wont do stupid shit that pisses them off. but i know that day isnt coming. theres no hope for me and i want to say sorry to everyone who has ever had the misfortune of knowing me but i know it wouldnt do anything. theres nothing i could ever do to make myself right

(new)

i need to convince my gf to take me to Round One again soon

refraction girl (nataana)

(old)

i don't want to do this anymore. i'm going somewhere better

(new)

talked with my psych and i’ll be starting TMS soon, it’s some thing where they put magnets to ur brain and it’s supposed to treat depression.. trying to temper my expectations bc i’ve tried so many treatments that just do nothing for me, but i’d be lying if i said my hopes weren’t riding on this. i want to confidently say i’m glad to be alive. i feel like i’m getting closer to that

nurse parallel/machine girl (xiomara)

(old)

I am so excited... Tomorrow my experimental outpatient treatment plan begins!!! I'm beyond delighted. I have complicated feelings about my DID being in remission, but it's nice to feel stable enough to be in charge of something this big, and to not have terrible gaps in my memory anymore. I still don't remember everything that happened to me, but maybe I don't need to. At this stage of my life, I feel content. I can confidently say everything was worth it. I want to help others feel that way, too. I think I can.

(new)

I’m meeting up with a new friend tomorrow… I feel nervous, but it’s a good nervousness, I think!

[hidarkin]

[COMMISSION] Tahira, the Bard, is the Party’s sparkle: impulsive, skittish and ever hungry for life. Her mind gets lost in the world of tales and legends, dreaming of giving them a real, come-true shape. Always seeking thrills and adventures, inspired to dance on the verge of bravado and stupidity - under the mask of reckless playfulness she hides heartbreaking secrets. The Wildspace is calling; will Tahira follow its voice and find the freedom she so desperately desires? Czy30Wchodzi? Youtube channel (Polish speaking TTRPG group)

[lifeofresulullah]

The Life of The Prophet Muhammad(pbuh): His Youth, Trade Life, His marriage to Hazrat Khadijah

Prophet’s (PBUH) marriage to Hazrat Khadija

Hazrat Khadija had known our Holy Prophet (PBUH) since he was a child. Having him deliver her goods to Mecca had been a means of getting to know him better.

Hazrat Khadija possessed the highest degree of nobility, wealth, and repute among the Qurayshi women. At the same time, Allah had granted her beauty that few women have been bestowed with.

Until that time, many men from her tribe had proposed marriage to her, yet she did not accept any proposals. In fact, it was as if she was not thinking about marriage.

However, fate brought someone who was completely different before her. The beauty in his soul was reflected on his face, the love in his heart had been transformed into his smile, and the deep thoughts in his mind had been manifested as an exceptional person who possessed both seriousness and sincerity.

Hazrat Khadija, who had rejected the marriage proposals of all of the renowned figures in Mecca and had not been interested in getting married, changed her mind as soon as she became further acquainted with this incomparable person.

Divine fate had predestined these two people to feel love for one another. Despite everything, the notables and rich people of Quraysh could not spoil the program designed by qadar.

A proposal from Khadija

A marriage proposal came from Khadija herself.  Khadija was referred to by the nickname, “Tahira” which meant “pure one” because she would safeguard her chastity and honor; a quality that, even during the age of ignorance, was held in high-regard.

Khadija’s best friend, Nafisa delivered the proposal to our Holy Prophet (PBUH). The following conversation took place between the two:

“Oh Muhammad, what is preventing you from getting married?”

“I do not have enough money to get married!”

“If that was taken care of, then would you accept an invitation to wealth, beauty, repute, and partnership?”

“Who is she?”

“Khuwaylid’s daughter, Khadija”

“But how can it be?”

“Everything will be taken care of.”

“In that case, I accept”. 

Nafisa conveyed the message to Hazrat Khadija in a state of happiness.

Khadija’s immeasurable gladness could be seen in the smiles on her face. After having a delightful and pleasurable encounter with Nafisa, Khadija sent this message to our Holy Prophet (PBUH), “Oh my uncle’s son, I desire to marry you because you are my relative and a dignified, trustworthy, well-mannered, and honest person from this tribe.” 

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH), who received this marriage proposal, informed his uncle of this matter.

Abu Talib confirmed this proposal by directly asking Hazrat Khadija; he learned straight from her that she wanted this marriage.

The Marriage Ceremony

The date of the marriage ceremony was determined by Hazrat Khadija and the ceremony was to take place in her home.

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH), his uncles, his aunts, and some of the leading figures from the sons of Hashim came to Hazrat Khadija’s home on the set date.

Hazrat Khadija provided everything that would ensure a beautiful wedding ceremony. The sheep were slaughtered and the food was prepared.

After the food was eaten, it was time for the oldest ones on both sides to speak, which was in accordance with their custom. Hazrat Khadija’s father had passed away in the Battle of Fijar. For this reason, her uncle, Amr bin Asad, was her representative for the ceremony.

According to the tradition, Abu Talib would be the first to speak. Therefore, he stood up and said:

“Thanks be to Allah for he has created us from Ibrahim’s progeny, Ismail’s bloodline, Maad’s minerals, and Mudar’s descent. After this, I get straight to the point and say:

“As you know, my brother’s son, Muhammad bin Abdullah, is your relative. No youth from the Quraysh can be compared to him. He is superior to them in terms of repute, intelligence, honor, and virtue.

“Yes, he has very little property, but what does that mean? It is a transient shadow and curtain, something temporary that is given and then taken away.

“I swear by Allah that his rank is going to increase and grow even more from now on.

“He now asks for your daughter Khadija’s hand in marriage and pledges to give 20 male camels for her dowry.”

When Abu Talib finished speaking, the son of Hazrat Khadija’s uncle, Waraqa bin Nawfal, rose to speak. He said:

“Thanks be to Allah for He has created us like you have described. He has granted us a far greater degree of superiority than you have mentioned. We also want to be honored and establish kinship with you.

“Oh, the community of Quraysh! Bear witness that I marry Khuwaylid’s daughter, Khadija, to Muhammad bin Abdullah, the son of Abdullah, for the price of this dowry”.

When Waraqa bin Nawfal had finished speaking, Abu Talib wanted Hazrat Khadija’s paternal uncle, Amr bin Asad, to express his consent. Amr also rose to his feet and said, “Oh the community of Quraysh, bear witness that I have joined Muhammad bin Abdullah and Khuwaylid’s daughter, Khadija in marriage.”

Thus, the Master of the Universe (PBUH) was married to Khuwaylid’s daughter, Hazrat Khadija aI-Kubra, who had the most reputable ancestry as well as the most honor and wealth among the Qurayshi women. In the meantime, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) was 25 years old whereas Hazrat Khadija was 40. Their marriage took place in 595 AD; 15 years before his Prophethood.

Then, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) brought his esteemed wife with him to Abu Talib’s home. Here they slaughtered two camels and threw a banquet for the community.

Out of regard for this happy occasion, Abu Talib slaughtered his camels and fed the community and then afterwards, invited our Holy Prophet (PBUH) and his family to his home.

When he went out to greet them, he thanked Allah in the midst of his tears by saying, “Praise to be Allah for He has dispelled all of our sadness away from us.”

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) and Hazrat Khadija, who had attained the honor of being our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) first wife, only stayed a few days in Abu Talib’s home. Afterwards, they returned to Hazrat Khadija’s home in which they would spend their blissful lives.

The Master of the Universe (PBUH) did not marry anyone else while this pure woman, who he referred to as “Khadija aI-Kubra”, was alive. He found every kind of consolation and bliss in this home.

Nothing had really been left to our Holy Prophet (PBUH) from his father’s inheritance. In addition, Abu Talib, who had been our Holy Prophet’s guardian for a long time, was in extreme poverty. In this regard, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) had led a life filled with thousands of hardships and difficulties until he married Hazrat Khadija.

After he married Hazrat Khadija, he used her wealth for the purpose of trade and attained a certain degree of abundance. Nevertheless, despite his wife’s ample wealth, he always avoided extravagance, show-off, and luxury. He continued living his life in a plain and humble fashion. Furthermore, he did not allow worldly wealth to occupy his heart in anyway; completely different kinds of divine and holy feelings had embosomed his glorious soul. The love of this world was never able to unravel those divine feelings.

Afterwards, Hazrat Khadija had six children from our Holy Prophet (PBUH): Qasim, Zainab, Ruqiyyah, Umm Kulthum, Fatima, and Abdullah (Tayyib-Tahir)- in chronological order.

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH)’s and Hazrat Khadija’s most divine feelings had merged in their happy home. Mutual trust, sincere respect, and love governed their family dynamics. Although Hazrat Khadija was fifteen years older than her husband, she was always conscientious, sensitive, and immensely polite towards her husband. Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) deeply loved his esteemed wife so much that even after her death, he never tossed away his love for her and kept their eternal togetherness in an exclusive part of his heart.

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) would always mention Hazrat Khadija’s generosity, benevolence, and all the help that she provided. This reminiscence was enough to rouse our mother Hazrat Aisha’s jealousy and make her say, “I did not feel jealous of any of the wives of the Prophet as much as I did of Khadija.” 

How could he not mention her? She was the mother of his children except for one. She extended her friendship to him while everyone else had become an enemy. She consoled him in the face of all kinds of torture and troubles. While everyone had turned their backs to him, she never left his side.

Of course, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) would always reminisce about and would never forget his wife who possessed eminent virtues and an eminent bond of sentiment.

[teecupangel]

Having seen the Yew Branch ask - how do you think the following would go? Desmond is reborn as Aya of Alexandria. How much would that impact the foundation of Hidden Ones? Would they still be a pair with Bayek? (I mean. I hope. Let Desmond be loved). Does Khemu survive? (I mean. Think if Al Muslim's daughter!Desmond AU but post birth - I would love to see them kill try and Khemu) Does *Order*, Cesar and Cleopatra survive?

So let’s talk about how Desmond is gonna fuck the creation of the Hidden Ones so badly by being reborn as Aya of Alexandria.

Let’s remember that Desmond has no idea how important Aya is meant to be in the history of the Hidden Ones/Assassins. Hell, she doesn’t even know that this is the time period where the Hidden Ones would be created.

She would still end up in Siwa though because her parent are busy and Desmond is a menace as a child, disappearing for hours and reappearing like nothing is wrong at all. No one would think to be suspicious of her being in the same vicinity as certain bad people die or get caught but her parents would be scared that she’ll find herself in the middle of it and get hurt or worse so they send her to Siwa to live with her aunt.

There she would meet Bayek and… they’ll get along quite fast, actually. Bayek would be interested by how ‘unique’ Desmond was. He had never seen a girl like her before.

Desmond would see Bayek as someone with the potential to be an Assassin and they’d just… play. Sorta. Playing with Desmond means learning how to be an Assassin without knowing you’re being trained to be an Assassin.

Desmond… didn’t plan to fall in love with Bayek. He certainly didn’t plan to accidentally teach the children of Siwa how to Assassins. He was just… bored. Siwa was peaceful and hunting for sports was never something he could ever do so… he got bored and played with the kids without thinking too deeply of how easy it is to train kids using tag and hide-and-seek.

By the time Bayek becomes a Medjay (and the whole drama with his father is also over), Desmond pretty much has an unofficial Assassin bureau setup in Siwa with a few unofficial Assassins (including Tahira and Khenza). They’re not Medjays but they’re close allies enough.

During that time, Desmond and Bayek also fall in love and marry (because there’s no way Desmond would ever be immune to Bayek’s charm, come on). They’d have a child as well. Although… Khemu’s not gonna be called Khemu, I think. He’d have a bird motif name because Desmond can’t help himself.

Khemu would also be sneakier and much more used to defending himself. He’d still be a kind and dutiful son but he’ll also have a mischievous streak that definitely came from Desmond. Also, he’s learning to speak English, Arabic and Kanien'kéha. He and Desmond speak in those languages when they don’t want others to understand them. Bayek also learned some of them because he likes hearing Desmond speak in those languages.

Khemu lives, no doubt, but let’s make it more dramatic and complicated. Khemu is technically the child of Desmond Miles even if she’s been reborn as Aya of Alexandria so Khemu’s genes are a bit… wonky. Not Elijah-Sage wonky but the current time period giving a greater Isu-to-human gene ratio + Desmond being reborn as a descendant of Kassandra who, depending on when you play the DLCs, has a body that could have already been fucked by Isu BS thanks to her Aletheia haunted spear/staff certainly makes Khemu’s genes an anomaly.

That the Apple of Eden reacts to.

So instead of killing Khemu, he’s kidnapped while Desmond was away in Alexandria, taking care of her parents’ estates and belongings (this is where she will also find Darius’ Hidden Blade)

And that is how Bayek’s path of revenge turns to both Desmond and Bayek traveling to find their son.

Along the way, Desmond says ‘fuck it’ to the timeline and creates the Hidden Ones…

Although… she names it the ‘Assassin Brotherhood’ because she has no idea about the true history of the Hidden Ones so yeah… Desmond is gonna bypass the Hidden Ones and go straight to developing the Levantine + Italian + Colonial Brotherhood in Egypt.

Khemu manages to escape all on his own and runs away, looking for his parents. At this point, he would have an Eagle Vision (although Bayek would rely on Senu still) that will help him find his parents.

Everything comes to a head when Cesar and Cleopatra do their whole ‘save Egypt’ thing and Khemu reunites with his parents there as well during all the destruction.

Desmond is never gonna take the name Amunet. For one, she will never be BFFs with Cleopatra and she will not have the whole “Aya is dead, only Amunet remains” kind of character develop Aya had. She’ll be calling herself Desmond very early on anyway.

Desmond would take the mantle of mentor and would be the one to assassinate Cleopatra because she becomes a threat to Egypt’s freedom as well as Cesar. Of course, since Desmond knows how Cesar dies (as a meme though XD), she does assassinate Cesar the same way Aya did in the game.

If you do want to include the Curse of Pharaohs DLC, Desmond’s entire demeanor is “Nope, not going to fucking deal with this Isu BS. Bayek, you go take those ghostly things. Imma cheat and use my Eagle Vision to find where the POE is.”

[writerfarzanatutul]

Muslim Love Story

Tahira stood frozen, staring at him in disbelief. The rain poured down around them, but it did nothing to wash away the shock gripping her heart.

"What... what did you just say?" she asked, her voice barely audible over the storm.

Iman's eyes, once filled with love, now blazed with a twisted mixture of fear and disgust. His finger jabbed toward her stomach, each word a knife to her soul. "What you're carrying... it's not a child, Tahira. It's a parasite. It will kill you. It will take you away from me."

Trembling, Tahira placed her hand over her growing belly, protectively. "This is our child, Iman," she whispered, her voice shaking as she clung to the words. But deep down, she couldn't reconcile the man before her with the one she once knew.

Iman stepped closer, his hands cupping her face in a grip that was gentle yet desperate. "No, Tahira. This... thing inside you will destroy us. It will drain you, leave you hollow." His voice was raw, almost pleading, but the darkness in his gaze terrified her.

Tahira pulled his hands away, searching his face for the man she loved. "Iman... you're not thinking clearly." She reached out, trying to soothe him with a touch, her fingers brushing his cheek with affection. "I know you're scared. Overwhelmed. But we can do this. We'll raise this child together. Everything will be fine. You'll see-there's nothing to be afraid of."

But Iman shook his head, his expression hardening. "No, Tahira. You're not listening. We don't need this. You and I are enough. This... this will ruin everything."

Horror and confusion flooded Tahira's mind as she backed away, her breath hitching. "Iman... please..."

His voice dropped, low and sharp, cutting through the rain like a blade. "You have to make a choice, Tahira. It's either me or... or that." He nodded toward her stomach, his tone full of warning. "Choose wisely."

Blurb:

Iman Eusuf is a young billionaire, a renowned obstetrician, and gynecologist, widely celebrated as one of the country's most eligible bachelors. To the outside world, he is the epitome of success and prestige-a man who has it all. But behind his polished demeanor lies an arrogant, indifferent, and emotionally distant personality. Burdened by a past he doesn't speak of and disillusioned by his own beliefs, Iman lives his life detached from others, keeping his emotions tightly guarded.

Tahira Jamil, on the other hand, is everything Iman is not. Kind-hearted, modest, and deeply rooted in her faith, she has faced more trials in her young life than most. Divorced and unfairly judged by society for her inability to have children, Tahira has learned to endure with quiet strength, trusting in Allah's plan even when it feels like the world has turned its back on her.

When an unexpected scandal forces their lives to intertwine, Iman is compelled to marry Tahira-his polar opposite. Neither of them imagined such a union in their wildest dreams. For Iman, she is just a forced responsibility thrust upon him. For Tahira, he is a stranger-a man who seems untouchable, closed off, and impossibly distant.

But as they begin their new life together, secrets from their pasts start to surface, revealing wounds neither of them thought they would ever confront. Iman's arrogant walls begin to crack as he finds himself drawn to Tahira's unwavering faith and resilience. Meanwhile, Tahira discovers that beneath Iman's indifference lies a man scarred by pain, guilt, and fear.

Can two souls burdened by their own struggles find solace in one another? Will their bond lead to healing, trust, and perhaps even love? Or will the weight of their individual scars drive them further apart, leaving them to face the world alone once more?

Book: Tahira, Iman and a parasite

[nightguide]

Heart of reason (first pic guy) and heart in hell (Ryan) known to panic at last.

‘Mate, you ain’t been around so don’t tell me what i am’

A scary reality brought in from the upstages of heartbreak. To a heart, that is hell but to a mind, that is hatred upon heart become. The guy in blue is an asshole cuz he doesn’t like his life so he’d rather kill me but he did it to Ryan to sabotage his life in heaven because he knows about the Doctor too well too strongly to kill off River in real life by heartache pure reason when heartache should be formed in happiness, solution to River’s heartache is being herself in ‘hell’ to Anson’s heaven.

Yaz is inside River’s paradox. Also known as the intended heartbreaker of a heartbreaker (heart in hell) River’s brother shows up after she wakes up to warn her in real life.

River’s brother takes away his heart in the form of a finger to his ear (to prevent him from listening to your life)

Finger absorbs hate

Chibnalls reason to decline heart is now. ‘Tahira’ is Anson and he speaks in a British accent in Syria. Geographical issue to contain River in her spot cuz she is actually the writer of the show cuz reality exists beneath her, she is God.

[suchananewsblog]

Tahira Kashyap's Birthday Wish For Daughter Varushka Came Gift-Wrapped Like This

Tahira Kashyap with daughter. (courtesy: tahirakashyap ) New Delhi: It’s a big day for Tahira Kashyap. Her daughter Varushka turns a yr older as we speak. To mark the day in an distinctive means on social media, Tahira shared some unseen footage of herself and her little munchkin from their household album. That wasn’t all. She additionally accompanied the images with a heartwarming caption,…

[withnosuchgrace]

at this point my blog is 99% a wonwoo love blog and I couldn’t care less I love one man and one man only

[wakingfromthewater]

In a new interview with Radio Farda, the Iranian branch of Radio Free Europe, Panahi’s wife, Tahira Saeedi, spoke about what the filmmakers endured during the fire. She revealed that she was able to speak with her husband early on Sunday morning, where he confirmed that tear gas had been used on him and that the fire amounted to “the worst hours of his life.” Despite the trauma they endured, Saeedi described the physical health of both Panahi and Rasoulof as “good.”

In a new interview with Radio Farda, the Iranian branch of Radio Free Europe, Panahi’s wife, Tahira Saeedi, spoke about what the filmmakers endured during the fire. She revealed that she was able to speak with her husband early on Sunday morning, where he confirmed that tear gas had been used on him and that the fire amounted to “the worst hours of his life.” Despite the trauma they endured, Saeedi described the physical health of both Panahi and Rasoulof as “good.”

In a new interview with Radio Farda, the Iranian branch of Radio Free Europe, Panahi’s wife, Tahira Saeedi, spoke about what the filmmakers endured during the fire. She revealed that she was able to speak with her husband early on Sunday morning, where he confirmed that tear gas had been used on him and that the fire amounted to “the worst hours of his life.” Despite the trauma they endured, Saeedi described the physical health of both Panahi and Rasoulof as “good.”

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Book 4: Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 56)

Description: The Catalysts attempt to return to their lives as River Skye finally comes home.  tagging: @endlesshero1122 @mysteli @feartheendlesssummer @whatmcsaid @tigerbryn11

Chapter 56: Not Over

Alodia

I almost can’t believe how quickly I start to feel better once the fever breaks. The pain, which had felt like some hellish demon with teeth made of red-hot iron gnawing at my lower back, begins to recede within hours. 

“That’s how it tends to go with an infection like this once we find the right antibiotic,” the doctor tells me. “You are fortunate, though. These days, a lot of bacteria have developed resistance to antibiotics. But the infection is responding well to treatment, and all your vitals and your blood work look good. And your daughter appears as healthy as a baby horse. ...I would just like to take a quick look at how you’re healing from the birth if that’s okay.” 

I nod, turning onto my back with Jake’s help as the doctor draws the curtain around the bed. Improved as I am, I know I’m not at full strength yet, because moving still hurts. I guess I must have winced, because the doctor raises an eyebrow in concern as she pulls on a pair of gloves.

“You okay there?” 

“I think so. Guess I’m still pretty sore.” 

“That’s to be expected. You probably won’t feel one-hundred percent for another week or two at least.” 

I draw my knees up and part my thighs while the doctor pulls up a stool at the foot of the bed and lifts the blanket. I keep my attention focused on Jake’s face above me and the pressure of his hand on mine as the doctor carries out her checks. Occasionally, I let my eyes wander around to the multiple bouquets and mylar balloons that have built up over the past couple days, gifts from the Catalysts, Tahira’s team, my aunt and uncle, and Jake and Diego’s parents. 

“Everything is healing beautifully. Stitches should be dissolved by next week. You’re probably going to be feeling pretty tender for a while though.” 

“Yeah, we had the whole tearing conversation with my OB in California some time ago.” 

“Good. If you have any pressing questions regarding the birth and recovery, you can of course ask me, or one of the maternity staff. We can also forward your hospital records to your regular OBGYN.” 

“How long do you think it will be before we can go home?” Jake asks. 

She pulls the blanket back down and stands, peeling off her gloves. “Well, the fact is, we want to get her and your baby out of here ASAP to lower the chances of either of them picking up a secondary infection.” She smiles at me. “Now that the fever’s gone, we’re gonna get you off the drip and onto some oral antibiotics, and we can pretty much start the discharge process immediately.” 

“So soon?” My own question surprises me, but it’s out of my mouth before I realize it’s on the end of my tongue. 

“Believe me, it’s better we get you both out of here.” 

“I know. It’s not that I want to stay here. It’s just...thinking about how we’re going to get home...how soon we can get home…” 

“That’s all taken care of, Princess. Aleister is having Castor and Pollux deep cleaned, and he and Grace are gonna put us up for a few days until Mike gets up here from Santo Domingo. Diego and Varyyn are with Estela and Quinn, and your aunt and uncle basically paid for hotel rooms for everyone else.” 

His infodump has my head reeling a little, but there was one particular tidbit I find myself fixing on. 

“Why is Mike…?” I trail off as realization crashes down on me in an icy wave. A bit of information I had nearly forgotten in my struggle to bring my baby safely into the world while fighting a fever. Jake wasn’t worrying about me for all that time from the safety of our home in California. I don’t know the details, but I have a sinking feeling that has something to do with the reason that Mike isn’t here with us now. 

Jake folds my hand between his palms, glancing at the doctor. “Hey...do you have everything you need? I’d like a few minutes alone with my wife, if that’s okay.” 

“Of course. I’ll get the ball rolling on your discharge.” 

I wait until I’m sure she’s well clear of the room before I reach to stroke Jake’s cheek. “...I know Lundgren got his filthy hands on you. ...Fiddler told me. ...I’m guessing he got a hold of Mike, too.” 

He leans into my touch. “...And Sean and Michelle. Nabbed us all as I was bringing ‘em back from the island.” 

“I don’t know if she told me that. That conversation got swallowed up in worrying about you, and then I got sick and River started coming, and…” I swallow, running my thumb along the fuzzy ridge of his cheekbone. “...Did they hurt you? Any of you?” 

He shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “Knocked us all around a little. Michelle’s the smart one, of course, so she escaped the worst. ...Mike’s in Santo Domingo having his prosthetics repaired. Lundgren ripped them out ot torture him.” 

I shudder. “Oh, god...Oh, Jake, I’m sorry...I’m so sorry…” 

I’m crying before I realize it. And as soon as I do realize, it turns into sobbing. Jake reaches down to gather me in his arms and cradle my head against his shoulder, rocking me tenderly. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs into my hair. “It’s okay. He’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be fine. In a few days, we’ll be home with our baby.” 

“I w-wanna be home,” I hiccup. “I wanna be home with River, but I’m scared of leaving everyone again. I just wanna bring them all home with us…” 

“Well, it’s a very big house. ...On the other hand, you cram us all into the same house long term, it might start to feel less big. Plus, it would mean a brutal cross-country commute for some of them.” 

I can’t help chuckling a little bit, which makes the sobs start to die down. Jake gives me a moment to get myself under control before he speaks again. 

“...How are you feeling, Princess? Really?” 

“Physically?” I pull back gently to lie down on the pillow again. “Definitely better. My head is clearer, and I don’t hurt as much. But I’m still worn out. And by the way, you’re gonna have to make due with blow jobs for awhile, because it’s gonna be a long time before you stick that thing in me again, if ever.” 

It’s his turn to laugh, and he bends to kiss me. “Princess, I will tug it for the rest of my life as long as you’re still a part of that life.” 

“I will be a part of your life as long as the universe allows,” I promise. “...But Jake, we both know this isn’t over.” 

He sighs, and I see his forehead crease before he presses it to mine. “I know. I know you’re right. But for River’s sake--and mine--will you let the others take care of that for now? I ain’t saying don’t worry, because I know that’s impossible. But River and I need you healthy. Can you stand to let yourself be looked after for a while?” 

I feel a rueful smile tug at one corner of my mouth. “Am I to assume that arguing is pointless?” 

A tapping at the open door to the birthing suite distracts Jake from answering. We both look up to find Raj and Diego hovering in the doorway, Raj with a paper bag in his hand, and Diego with his right arm in a soft blue sling. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since River was born, and I sit up a little straighter as he hesitantly steps over the threshold. 

“...Are we interrupting?” 

The baby has started fussing, and Jake eases off the edge of the bed to go pick her up. I open my arms to Diego. Just before he rushes into them, I see his face twist with anguish. And as he falls against me, his one-armed grip is surprisingly strong. 

“Goddammit, Allie,” he whispers quiveringly. “Goddammit…” 

“...Did I scare you?” 

He pulls back sharply, enough so he can look me in the face, but he keeps a grip on my shoulder. “Did you scare me?! You had me on my knees saying the Ave Maria! Do you know how long it’s been since I said the Ave Maria?!” 

There isn’t really a lot I can say to that, but I smile ruefully. “...Thanks for staying with me.” 

“What, you thought I’d bail?” 

I snort. “God, no. But I can still be grateful.” 

“...You’re really okay?” 

I nod. “I’m fine. The fever is gone, and the wound doesn’t really hurt anymore. I’m still pretty sore down there, though.” 

A smile finally starts to play cautiously around his mouth. “...Well, that part’s Jake’s problem.” 

“How about you?” I ask, gingerly touching the strap of his navy blue sling. 

“That’s nothing serious. It was dislocated, but they popped it back in. Just got to wear this for a few more days, and take it easy once we get back home. ...Raj brought food, by the way.” 

“Oh!” I pull back a little to smile at Raj. “Sorry, big guy. I didn’t mean to ignore you.” 

Raj chuckles. “We’ll blame it on the new mommy brain and leave it at that. Speaking of which…” He shoos Diego back enough that he can drag my bed table over across my lap, and sets an insulated lunch box on top. “I figured you could do with something better than hospital fruit cups and oatmeal, so I brought you a special Raj lunch. Michelle supervised its creation, and it’s full of stuff that’s supposed to be good for new moms.” 

“What is it?” 

“So glad you asked!” With a flourish, he opens the bag, and pulls out each item in turn, presenting them like a game show prize lady. “A sandwich of salmon, spinach, and poached egg on whole wheat bread with a garlic white bean spread; in case you are extra hungry, a side of gourmet trail mix made from an assortment of nuts and dried fruit; and to drink, a pineapple-orange-banana smoothie with extra protein powder, and just a few extra leaves of spinach!” 

I can’t help but be uplifted by his enthusiasm, and hold out my arms for a hug. “I must be the most spoiled new mother in the world.” 

Raj embraces me lightly over the table. “As you should be. You know in some Asian cultures, a new mother spends a whole month resting while her mother-in-law takes care of her and the baby.” 

“Oh yeah?” I look at Jake. “Think your mother would spend a month taking care of me?” 

“Honestly, I bet she would. The problem would be getting her to ease up and let you start taking care of things after the month was up.” 

“Hmm...probably best not to give her ideas then.” 

“Probably. We’ll have my folks over in few more months, when we’ve had a chance to get settled.” 

“...But…” Raj says, “in the meantime, do you think you guys will be needing any extra help? I know it’s going to be a pretty full house as it is, but Diego’s going to want to take it easy with lifting and stuff for a while, and Michelle says Mike will probably need time to recover, too. If you need a couple extra pairs of hands and someone to do the cooking, I have some downtime, and I know Lila would be happy to come along.” 

I look questioningly at Jake, who shrugs. “I don’t have anything against that. It’s a big enough house. And if Varyyn and I are gonna be the only ones at full strength for the time being, I wouldn’t say no to a couple extra pairs of hands.”

“And probably better those hands be Raj and Lila than anyone’s parents,” Diego adds. “I bet Varyyn would prefer not having to wear his disguise twenty-four-seven.” 

“Yeah. And,” Jake adds with a sigh, shifting River to rest against his shoulder, “it’s probably preferable not to involve anyone who ain’t already involved in the bigger picture. ...Like you said before, Princess, this ain’t over.” 

“But for now, we’re all safe and sound, and Allie has a lunch to eat.” Diego smiles encouragingly as he pushes the tinfoil-wrapped sandwich toward me. “Go on. Dig in.” 

Jake

I gotta admit, it does my heart good to see my wife savoring the meal Raj brought her and enjoying our friends’ company. She seems almost back to her old self as she talks and tells jokes and teases with them. Although, as I put River in her arms, I can’t help but be reminded that she’ll never be exactly like her old self again. Not now that she’s a mama. Not like I’m ever gonna be exactly like my old self again either. I’m a daddy now. That’s gonna change me forever. The thought scares me, like it has a lot over the past nine months. But just a look at that precious little face is enough to reassure me that I am never gonna regret it. 

Diego and Raj eventually leave us on our own again. After nursing and burping, River sleeps just long enough that we can fill out her birth certificate, nestled side-by-side on the bed. From there, it’s not more than an hour or two before they’re wheeling Alodia toward the hospital exit with River in her arms again while I walk at her shoulder, a baby carrier in the crook of my elbow and my arms laden with flowers and mini mylar balloons. Any staff we happen to pass on the way out smile and wave or give us their congratulations. I have a feeling that in a hospital, any chance to see a patient off happy and healthy is a cause for celebration, and that probably goes double for a new mama leaving with a baby. 

Grace is waiting in a car for us at the curb outside the hospital. One of Reggie’s old carseats is in the backseat. Grace settles the baby in the carseat while I help Alodia into the seat beside her. 

“There’s a surprise for you guys when we get to our place,” Grace informs us as I circle around the car to get in on the other side of River. 

“Nothing too strenuous, I hope,” Alodia quips. “I am not up for a party yet.” 

Grace chuckles as she starts up the car. “Oh, believe me, I realize that. No, everyone is pretty sure parties are off the table for you for the time being. ...But you do know that everyone is going to want to see you before you leave, right? You gave us a scare, and no one wants you to go before we all know you’re okay. ...Plus, everyone wants to see River.” 

“I am not opposed to visitors,” Alodia assures her. “Just...only a few at a time.” 

“Absolutely. We won’t let you get overwhelmed.” 

“River, either,” Alodia adds, stroking our sleeping daughter’s downy hair. “Poor thing is probably overwhelmed as it is, suddenly coming into all this noise and color and light.” 

“Birth is the craziest thing that ever happens to us, and none of us remember it,” I remark, letting the blade of my forefinger run gently back and forth across the soft back of River’s tiny hand. Her little fingers twitch just slightly, and the base of her pacifier rocks back and forth across her lips, but she doesn’t wake up. I don’t expect the quiet will last. 

River does sleep throughout the half hour or so it takes to drive to Aleister and Grace’s luxury Northbridge apartment. As we pull up to the curb, I realize what our surprise is. 

“Mike!” 

I must have been a little louder than I thought, because River wakes up with a cry that can only be described as irritated, but it doesn’t fully register until I have already launched myself out of the car towards Mike. He’s balancing on a walker, so I at least have the good sense not to jostle him, but I can’t hold myself back from grasping him firmly by the shoulders. He grins, carefully removing his hands from the walker one at a time to grasp me back. 

“Good to see ya, Grandpa.” 

“Shit, you too! We weren’t expecting you for another couple days! How are you feeling?” 

“Well, as you can tell,” he says, nodding at the walker, “I’m not quite ready to run a marathon yet. But my new legs are healing up nice. ...Good to see you, Goldilocks.” 

His gaze shifts over my shoulder, and I turn to look back at my wife supporting herself on Aleister’s arm while Grace bounces River in her arms. Alodia smirks at me, her eyes twinkling mischievously. 

“I feel like I should make a joke about you abandoning your wife and child in the car to go hang out with your buddy,” she drawls. 

I grin sheepishly as Mike carefully returns his grip to the walker. “Sorry about that. Let me make it up to you.” 

I lunge and sweep her up bridal style, and I have the pleasure of feeling her arms twine around my neck. 

“Mmm, much better. However, unlike your daughter, I am actually capable of walking.” 

“But you don’t have to. Not right now, anyway.” But I do return her to her feet after capturing her mouth in a kiss. I don’t entirely take my hands off her yet, though. After her ordeal, I don’t think she’s really that much steadier than Mike right now. Her grip as she slips her arm through mine confirms my concerns. 

I’m standing between my wife and my best friend, and neither of them are fully able to stand under their own power. I’m starting to feel that much more grateful to Raj for volunteering to help us out for a while. 

I think Mike notices Alodia’s weakness, too, because his forehead creases just a little. “You all right, Goldilocks? From what I hear, you gave everyone a real scare.” 

“It was pretty scary on my end, too. But I’m fine now. How about you?” 

Mike shrugs. “Ahh, you know. A few weeks of rehab, I’ll be a six-million dollar man again. In the meantime,” he adds wryly, stroking the frame of his walker, “it’ll be hard to call Jake ‘Grandpa’ when I’m dottering around on this thing.” 

“You just called me ‘Grandpa’ two minutes ago.” 

“And I cannot tell you how hard I internally cringed. Seriously, if you could have seen my internal expression, you’d have thought I was sucking lemons.” 

I am morally obligated to reach out and swat him for that, but before I can, Alodia abruptly steps forward to wrap her arms around his shoulders. It’s an awkward embrace, encumbered by the walker and both of them still being weak, but it’s a sincere one, and Mike leans into it gratefully. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Alodia murmurs. 

“You too,” Mike says softly, reaching up to pat her shoulder with one hand. “But can we go inside? I wanna properly meet that baby you’ve been carrying around for the past nine months!” 

***

The Catalysts come by in shifts throughout the afternoon and evening, apparently having planned it all out beforehand. No one stays more than an hour at a time, which proves to be a good thing, since Alodia is clearly worn out by about eight in the evening. We’re set up in the guest room of the Rourke apartment, with River in a bassinet beside us, and Mike on the foldaway bed in the living room. 

Alodia nurses River and rocks her to sleep before lying down herself. At first, I curl up beside Alodia in bed. She’s asleep within minutes, but I’m not as quick. And after an hour, it’s pretty clear that I’m not on my way to dreamland any time soon. I don’t want to leave Alodia or River. I never want to leave Alodia’s side again. But I’m restless. Anxious. And eventually, the desire not to disturb what precious little sleep my wife might have before our daughter wakes her up again wins out over my irrational need to pace back and forth between them. I check the windows, making sure they’re locked, then I slip out of the room as quietly as I can, heading back out into the living room. 

I find Mike, Aleister, and Grace all seated in the living room. On the coffee table are four short, round glasses and a bottle of golden red liquid that I’m guessing is some kind of whiskey. 

“We were starting to wonder if you had also fallen asleep,” Aleister says. He gestures to the glasses. “We thought you might like to wet your baby’s head.” 

“Kind of a weird expression,” I remark. Nonetheless, I pick up the bottle and take a seat in an armchair to read the label. “Ooh, Irish Mist. Fancy.” 

“It is not every day that one becomes a father. The night Reginald was born, Diego, Varyyn, and I toasted his birth with Irish Mist.” 

I crack open the bottle, and lean forward to fill each of the four glasses about halfway. I set down the bottle and raise my glass, the others following suit. 

“To River Skye McKenzie, my beautiful angel. And to her mother, my better half, who is truly the best and bravest of us.” 

“Here, here!” Grace says. We clink glasses, and I take a long, deep drink, savoring the sweet notes of honey and spices riding atop the alcoholic burn of whiskey. I return my glass to the table empty and lean back in my chair. 

“When my sister and I both were born, my grandpa had my dad and the men of the neighborhood over to smoke cigars on the porch.” I chuckle a little. “Rebecca remembers helping our grandma in the kitchen, and seeing all the men outside smoking. She says what she remembers most about the day I was born was our dad coming in from outside to give her a hug, but she pushed him away and said, ‘No, Daddy! You stink!’” 

My story prompts the expected laughter. 

“I am afraid Irish Mist will have to do tonight,” Aleister says. “I did not think to buy cigars. Nor would I know enough to ensure I was purchasing a quality product. As I understand it, Cuban cigars are the best, but those are illegal.” 

Mike shudders. “Honestly, I think the smell of a Cuban would be enough to give me flashbacks. Lundgren used to smoke contraband Cubans.” 

“Same here,” I agree. “I mean...there was that one time…” 

“...That one time what?” 

I chuckle a little, rubbing the back of my head. “Okay, no one currently in this room was there when Zahra blew up MASADA…” 

“What’s that got to do with Cuban cigars?” 

I sigh, but in spite of myself, in spite of how literally everyone else in the room with me was in some kind of bad situation at the time, I feel a smile playing around my mouth at the memory. 

“Okay, so it’s me, Alodia, Sean, Quinn, Estela, Craig, and Zahra trying to find another way out of the complex after the gondola gets severed, and when we go through a control room, Zahra gets the idea to blow the whole thing up. We figure it’s worth the couple extra minutes, so we let her do it. And while she’s rigging the system, I find one of Lundgren’s Cubans somewhere on the floor. ...And I light it up. But only to spite the bastard.” 

“But did you enjoy it?” Mike asks. 

“Hell, yeah! The hype ain’t a lie, buddy. Not saying I’d do it again unless it were one of his personal stash, but that was a real good smoke. ...Still...it wouldn’t be right to celebrate River with Cuban cigars. Lundgren and Rourke did enough to taint her birth.” 

“Nothing has been tainted,” Grace says firmly. “She and Alodia both came through it well and healthy.”

“I ain’t losing sight of what’s important,” I assure her. “But I can’t let my guard down, either.  ...We all know this ain’t over.” 

Grace sighs. “...No, you’re right. It isn’t over. ...Which means...I should probably tell you what I learned in Ireland.”

Diego

I knew that the Catalysts wouldn’t have sat on their hands while any of their own were in danger, but I am surprised to learn just how busy they were during the time that Allie and I were in Arachnid’s claws. I’m even more surprised--and frankly unsettled--by some of the things they learned. Yvonne might be alive. Lundgren flew the same plane that killed Allie’s parents, even though the twisted wreckage of that plane is the property of the NTSB. The whole mess with Allie’s mom, that weird AI message from a program made by Allie’s mom. It all leaves us with a lot more questions than answers. 

I told the police everything I felt like I could safely tell them. I went so far as to tell them that I think Everett Rourke might be alive because that’s who our kidnappers claimed they were taking us to. I don’t know if they believed me. I don’t know if the future of the Vaanti is safe. A part of me hopes that they lose interest in the case since everyone who was abducted has been recovered safely. But I also know that none of us are really safe until Rourke is either back behind bars or dead. 

Aleister and Estela make all the travel arrangements for those of us going back to California, including my folks and Allie’s. Castor carries me, Allie, Jake, Varyyn, Mike, Raj, Lila, Rebecca, and River. For once, Jake and Mike aren’t going to be flying. Pollux is taking our families. A third plane, smaller but no less luxurious, takes Jake’s parents back to Louisiana. They’re reluctant to leave him. They don’t want to be apart from their son, or their daughter, or their granddaughter. He assures them they can come visit soon, but that their daughter-in-law needs some time to recover first. 

At the airport, Allie’s aunt and uncle hesitate to part from her on the tarmac. Allie stands with River in her arms, patiently enduring as Molly smoothes her hair and kisses her forehead, asking if she’s sure Allie doesn’t want her and Rob to wait at the airport in California to drive her home. When Allie insists she’s sure; that Molly and Rob should go ahead and get home so they can rest. Rob says they’ll make sure there are cars waiting for us to take us all back to the house in Laguna. 

My parents board the plane before I arrive at the airport. On board the plane, I nestle up with Varyyn on one of the double-width leather seats. I wind my arms around him and bury my face in his shoulder, inhaling his scent. He kisses the top of my head. 

“Are you alright, my love?” he murmurs. 

“...I’ll be fine,” I assure him. “I’m just...disappointed. I knew my parents weren’t ready to meet you. But I had hoped...I don’t know. I had hoped it wouldn’t be like this. Even if I knew it probably would be.” 

Varyyn sighs, bringing a hand up to stroke my cheek. “They may yet come around. Or they may not. In the end, it is up to them. All I can promise is that I will love you regardless of their decision.” 

“...I love you, too.” 

“You guys all set?” Raj’s voice makes me look up. The others are boarding behind us and finding their seats. Jake helps Allie settle in and get her seatbelt on, River still cradled in her arms. 

“Are you sure a plane is really the best way to travel with a newborn?” Lila asks. 

“When the choices are between a rental car, a train, or a private plane for a cross-country trip, a private plane is hands down the best option,” Rebecca declares. “I mean, if we were on a commercial plane, I’d think twice, since those things are basically flying petri dishes. But this plane has been deep-cleaned, unlike the train. It’s more comfortable than a car, and faster than both the car or the train.” 

“Yeah, but what about her little ears? All the pressure?” 

“The doctor says that if I nurse her during take-off and landing, that should keep her comfortable. Besides...I just want to be home.” 

Home. The word washes through me in a way that comforts me even as it makes me want to cry. Images flash through my mind of the house I share with my husband, my best friend, her husband, and his best friend--and now, my little niece and goddaughter. Watching movies in the living room with Allie. Sharing dinner around the table or out on the balcony. Cuddling with Varyyn in the hot tub in the evening, letting the warm, swirling water sap the energy from my body, and then sliding into bed beside him and drifting off to sleep in his arms. At home, I don’t have to hide. I don’t have to walk on eggshells or worry about losing anyone’s love. At home, I’m safe and free. I meet my best friend’s eyes, offering her a tired smile. 

“I’m with you, Allie. Let’s get home.” 

Raj

Nothing but the best for my friends, that’s my motto. I came to the house in Laguna Beach to make sure that my friends would have the best care while they needed it, and I waste no time in getting down to business. Alodia, Diego, and Mike need space to convalesce. But with a new baby in a huge house like this, there is a lot to be done. Jake and Varyyn can’t be expected to do everything, and that’s where I and Lila come in. 

River is constantly monitored. Whenever she cries, someone is ready to come running to change her diaper, or to bring her to Alodia for feeding. I prepare meals ahead of time that can be easily heated and served, so no one goes hungry. Lila helps me cook and keep the house clean. Alodia’s aunt and uncle attempt to send cleaning and catering services to her at one point, but they end up being politely refused. Lila and I have everything under control, and none of us want strangers poking around here. 

Alodia is occasionally moody, snapping at everyone to stop fussing over her, and she can’t wait to be free of this gilded cage and go back out into the world. This is usually followed by tearful apologies, with all of us assuring her that we don’t take it personally. She just had a baby, she’s allowed to be moody. Besides, the moment someone places River in her arms, it seems like everything is right in her world, and everything is right in our world, too. 

...Except it’s not. Not entirely. 

River is happy and healthy. Alodia is getting her strength back. Diego gets rid of the sling, and Mike starts to get around without the walker again. But underneath the surface, there is still trauma. There’s still fear. 

“They’re having nightmares,” I tell Lila one morning as we’re preparing breakfast. She pauses for a moment with a knife poised above an orange before swiftly slicing it in half. 

“Is that so surprising?” she asks. She doesn’t look at me as she speaks, but concentrates on making sure the thick, white heart of the orange half in her hand is positioned properly on the cone of the juicer before she presses down and begins to twist. Bright yellow juice splashes down into the container below. 

“Well, no. But it is sad. Jake and Alodia especially should be concentrating on enjoying their new baby, not having nightmares and worrying about whether Rourke’s coming back for them.” 

Lila pulls the now-deflated orange rind off the cone of the juicer and tosses it on the countertop. Ribbons of tattered orange flesh cling to the inside of the rind. She picks up the other half. 

“...Do you ever have nightmares from Mr. Rourke?” she asks softly. 

“Of course,” I reply. “Not as much as before, but I think we all have them sometimes. After what we all went through, I think I’d be more surprised if any of us didn’t.” 

The twisting of the orange on the juicer slows just slightly. The toaster pops behind me, and I pluck four pieces of perfectly browned bread from the slots to toss onto a plate. 

“...I have nightmares, too.” 

The butter has been softening on the counter, and my knife slides easily through it. The heat from the toast softens it further, and it spreads cleanly. 

“...You want to talk about it?” 

Lila shakes her head, picking up her knife and another orange. “No. Not now. They don’t really matter anyway. They’re about things that happened in the past. I’m less scared of them than I am of what happens in the future.” 

“Do you mean Rourke’s next move?” 

“Of course that scares me. ...But more than that, I’m scared of him trying to use me against all of you again.” 

“We won’t let that happen, Lila. You’re safe with us.” 

“...But are you safe with me?” 

I pause a moment before putting down my knife. I turn to Lila, put one hand on each of her shoulders, and turn her toward me. 

“Lila...look at me. ...Has Rourke approached you at all since you’ve been with us again?” 

Her eyes widen in what looks like genuine surprise. “What? No, I...that isn’t what I meant!” 

I relax just a little. “...Okay.” I slowly take my hands away from her shoulders. “...You’d tell me if he had, wouldn’t you?” 

She nods. “Of course.” 

“Good. ...Because if he approaches you again, we can help you. We can help keep you out from under his thumb. ...We’re not gonna let him just have you back.” 

A weak smile lifts the corners of her mouth. “I believe you.” She hastily turns back to the oranges in front of her. “You should...um...finish buttering before the toast gets cold.” 

Overhead, the sharp, piercing cry of an infant rings through the air. I smile. Another morning blending into another day. It’s not perfect. We’ve got reason to worry. But for now, all is well. 

Diego

I keep my head down as I move through the halls of my high school, clutching the straps of my worn-out backpack. It’s the same shabby gray one I’ve been carrying since freshman year. I’m a junior now, and the corners near the bottom are starting to fray where the sharp corners of paper-bag covered textbooks have dug into them. 

My stomach growls. I skipped lunch again today. My parents were gone to work early again, and I didn’t leave myself enough time to make myself anything this morning. I barely had time to scarf down a banana for breakfast. I didn’t have enough cash for a cafeteria lunch, either, and besides, I preferred spending my lunch period playing on the computer in the library to sitting by myself at the end of a table filled with noisy strangers anyway. 

If I can scrape together enough change from the bottom of my pencil case, I might have enough to get a bag of chips from the vending machine before I have to go to my after school job. But for now, my hunger isn’t all that sharp, and I am heading towards English Lit, the only class I currently look forward to. 

The class is taught by Mr. Hunter. He also teaches the film-making class I want to sign up for next semester. He’s in his early fifties, and not handsome. He is tall and lanky, with gray-green eyes and a dark helmet of slicked back hair that sits atop a rectangular face. He has one of those mustaches that seemed to be popular in the 1970’s that always make a man look a little sketchy. He wears paisley shirts and slacks, and his voice reminds me of Bert from Sesame Street.

Mr. Hunter is the best teacher I’ve ever had at this school. When we studied Romeo and Juliet, he started off by giving us all a printed-off list of Shakespearean insults. When one girl tried to mumble her way through a line-reading, he shouted, “Put some feeling into it, you saucy wench!” 

Mr. Hunter is also gay, and he does not attempt to hide this. When my parents ask about my teachers and which ones I like best, I leave this fact out. If they knew, they would make me switch to another class. Mr. Hunter has a picture of himself with his boyfriend on his desk. I’ve seen it when I’ve gone up to hand in assignments. His partner is bald and ruddy-skinned. He’s not handsome, either, but he has an open, friendly smile. Sometimes, I imagine them kissing. I worry that I have a crush on Mr. Hunter. 

On the post of every classroom door is a laminated pink triangle, with a message proclaiming that this is a safe space for LGBTQ students. These triangles are mandated by the school district. Not every teacher honors them. One teacher actually tore hers down and refused to put it back up. She was fired. Last year, two girls were voted “Cutest Couple” in their senior class. I look at the triangles, prominently displayed as I walk into each classroom, and I don’t feel particularly safe. I feel safe in Mr. Hunter’s classroom. 

Inside Mr. Hunter’s classroom, two boys from the football team act out a love poem with one of them in a curly blond wig and the bottom of his shirt tucked into his collar to create a crop top. They end with a flourish, with the boy in the wig jumping into the other boy’s arms and goosing him. Everyone applauds their performance, including Mr. Hunter. 

Outside Mr. Hunter’s classroom, guys of all stripes growl “faggot” in my direction, and even the girls who are nice to me seem pitying more than anything. There’s a Pride club that meets after school two days a week, but I don’t dare join. I’m slowly realizing I can’t deny the truth anymore, but that doesn’t mean I can just announce it to the world. 

I have just enough change to buy a bag of chips after school. I put it in my backpack as I make my way toward the library where I work for a few hours each day. I see Sam Dzugan eyeing me as I pass through the main doors to the school, and feel dread so familiar that it’s almost dull. Of all the bullies at this school, Sam is the worst. He also knows where I work. If he’s bored and hungry for a power fix tonight, I’m in for a rough walk home. 

But he doesn’t follow me to work. At the library, I set to work filing back the books from the return cart. As I do, my mind wanders to the same place it always does: Alodia. 

Alodia. My ideal friend. I conjure up an image of her beside me. She would be pretty, like all the most popular girls at school. I summon a small, pale figure with blonde hair, big blue eyes, and rosy cheeks. I talk with her in my head as I wander the aisles of the library with the return cart. I can picture her cheeky smile as clearly as if she were really beside me. I have spent many years getting the details of her perfect. Early incarnations of her were dark-haired. Green-eyed. Taller. I drew pictures of her. I wrote down her description in a private notebook that I kept under my mattress. But she never felt as real as when I wrote her with golden blonde hair and sapphire eyes. 

She laughs at all my jokes as I work the rest of my shift. I forgot to eat the chips I bought, and I’m hungry enough now to start feeling dizzy. ...Alodia would invite me to dinner at her house. A huge, fancy house with a pool, where a chef would have prepared a gourmet meal. 

“Don’t worry about Sam,” she would say. “If he gives you any trouble, I’ll fight him off.” ...Because Alodia would be fierce. A fighter. Alodia was a hero. A hero who loved me unconditionally. 

Alodia was never meant to be my lover. I wasn’t looking for a lover when I first dreamed Alodia into existence, which is probably why I always imagined her as a girl. I could scarcely imagine having a lover before I had a friend. That was what Alodia was to me. A friend. A friend who would always love me. A friend who I could tell my secrets to without judgment. A friend to fight for me and protect me, who saw value in me, and needed me back. 

But my friend is a fantasy. And when I leave work and Sam corners me in the encroaching darkness, Alodia vanishes…

...I wake up with a gasp, bolting upright in the darkness of my room. Beside me, Varyyn grunts in his sleep and rolls over, the moonlight reflecting off his blue skin. I stare at his sleeping form for a moment, trying to take stock of myself. I’m shaking. My pajamas are damp with sweat. I feel cold. I feel sick and empty with fear. I don’t exactly remember what I was dreaming about, but one thought keeps echoing in my mind: Allie. I have to find Allie. 

I slip out of bed as gently as I can while I’m still trembling. I don’t want to wake Varyyn. As I slip into the hall, motion-sensitive lights plugged into the sockets near the floor illuminate my path. My dream is still hazy, but bits and pieces trickle back as I shuffle down the hall with my hand on the wall. I was alone. Allie didn’t exist. It was a timeline that I have all but forgotten, and it felt entirely too real. 

I need to find her. Or at least evidence that she still exists. The door to the nursery is slightly ajar, enough that I can see the soft glow from the lamp on the bedside table. I peek through the crack in the door and relief floods through me. Allie, bundled up in her robe and slippers, sits in the rocking chair with River in her arms, gently rocking back and forth. I exhale slowly. I should go back to bed, but I am not ready to let her out of my sight yet. I start to push open the door. She gasps a little, looking up sharply. 

“Oh, Diego!” She smiles at me, settling back into her chair. “You startled me.” 

“Sorry,” I whisper back. “...Did I wake up River?” 

“No. I just fed her, so she’ll probably be out for an hour or two.” She looks up at me as I come to settle into the armchair across from her. “...What are you doing up?” 

“...Bad dream,” I admit. “...About...about you. I had to come check on you or I was never going to get back to sleep.” 

I half-expect her to joke about me being a creeper watching her while she sleeps, but instead she sighs. “...I kinda know the feeling.” 

“Yeah. I bet you do.” 

“You wanna stay up with me for awhile?” 

“Yeah. But I feel like I should be telling you to get some sleep while you can.” 

“I probably should be sleeping,” she admits. “...But I don’t really want to let her go.” 

There’s not really much I feel like I need to say to that. I understand. I don’t think there’s anyone in this house who doesn’t empathize with that feeling in one way or another. Especially now. 

“...Diego…?” 

“Yeah, Allie?” 

For a long moment, she doesn’t say anything, though her mouth opens and closes a couple times. Then, she swallows and takes a deep breath. 

“...I love you. I love you, and I love Jake, and Raj, and all the Catalysts…” 

“We love you, too, Allie.” 

“...When you imagined me. In that other timeline. When I didn’t come to be until the Island...did you ever imagine my future?” 

I can’t help flinching. Her words feel like a cold pinprick at the top of my spine. “...Allie...I...I don’t really remember that timeline…” 

“I know. I know. But...it happened. It existed. I was once born to be what you needed. What all the Catalysts needed. ...But now...now I have River. Someone new who needs me. She needs me more than any of my Catalysts.” 

“I...I think that’s true,” I say slowly. “...We all love you, and we want you with us. But River is your child. She’s helpless and new. She needs your love and your care and your guidance to survive.” 

“...I’m scared, Diego. I’m scared by how much I love her. I’m scared by how much she needs me.” 

My earlier fear is being replaced with concern that is entirely for my friend.  “...Allie...are you okay? Is this some kind of postpartum depression?” 

“I don’t know what this is, Diego. I know that I love River more than I ever thought I could love anyone alive. I would have torn myself apart for my Catalysts without hesitation. I gave up my existence to give my Catalysts the world. ...But I can’t consider that anymore. Because River needs her mother.” 

“Oh, Allie. That’s not a bad thing. None of us want you to tear yourself apart.” 

“I know. ...But I am afraid of what happens if the world asks for it. ...If I end up at the Threshold again, or a new Raan’losti…” She looks up at me. “...Diego...I think I have to face what’s in the pool shed.” 

I feel my blood run cold. I know what’s in the pool shed. The collection of objects that were left for us in the Crystal dimension when we went to rescue Tahira. Including…

“...Are you sure?” 

She nods. “...It was left for me to find for a reason. I have to touch the Andromeda idol again.” 

[newsfind]

EXCLUSIVE! 'We were immature,' Ayushmann Khurrana speaks about wife Tahira Kashyap being insecure of him kissing on screen

EXCLUSIVE! 'We were immature,' Ayushmann Khurrana speaks about wife Tahira Kashyap being insecure of him kissing on screen

Ayushmann Khurrana and wife Tahira Kashyap are one of the cutest couples in B-town and one cannot deny it. The two lovebirds have been childhood sweethearts and got married at an early age. Apparently, the two saw each other for the first time in a tuition class when they were in their teens, however, neither Ayushmann nor Tahira had the guts to admit about their infatuation. Soon, cupid struck…

[beca-mitchell]

I love how there’s literal evidence that Anna’s kept the fan gifts from that day (FROM ANNA HERSELF), photo evidence that the tiktok girl wasn’t there collecting the gifts like she said she was, countless videos of Anna’s love for her fans, and confirmations from people close (Kelley and Alex) saying that what was described is so OOC and is definitely not Anna…and tiktok girl is STILL gonna double down on her attempt to “cancel” 🙄 It’s pathetic really, and it’s even clearer it’s all for clout

i caught the block from tahira lmao, she’s been blocking fans all night even fans who have never interacted with her because she’s going through anna’s replies and indirects 🤪 actions speak louder than words always!

[lifeofresulullah]

The Life of The Prophet Muhammad(pbuh): His Youth, Trade Life, His marriage to Hazrat Khadijah

Prophet’s (PBUH) marriage to Hazrat Khadija

Hazrat Khadija had known our Holy Prophet (PBUH) since he was a child. Having him deliver her goods to Mecca had been a means of getting to know him better.

Hazrat Khadija possessed the highest degree of nobility, wealth, and repute among the Qurayshi women. At the same time, Allah had granted her beauty that few women have been bestowed with.

Until that time, many men from her tribe had proposed marriage to her, yet she did not accept any proposals. In fact, it was as if she was not thinking about marriage.

However, fate brought someone who was completely different before her. The beauty in his soul was reflected on his face, the love in his heart had been transformed into his smile, and the deep thoughts in his mind had been manifested as an exceptional person who possessed both seriousness and sincerity.

Hazrat Khadija, who had rejected the marriage proposals of all of the renowned figures in Mecca and had not been interested in getting married, changed her mind as soon as she became further acquainted with this incomparable person.

Divine fate had predestined these two people to feel love for one another. Despite everything, the notables and rich people of Quraysh could not spoil the program designed by qadar.

A proposal from Khadija

A marriage proposal came from Khadija herself.  Khadija was referred to by the nickname, “Tahira” which meant “pure one” because she would safeguard her chastity and honor; a quality that, even during the age of ignorance, was held in high-regard.

Khadija’s best friend, Nafisa delivered the proposal to our Holy Prophet (PBUH). The following conversation took place between the two:

“Oh Muhammad, what is preventing you from getting married?”

“I do not have enough money to get married!”

“If that was taken care of, then would you accept an invitation to wealth, beauty, repute, and partnership?”

“Who is she?”

“Khuwaylid’s daughter, Khadija”

“But how can it be?”

“Everything will be taken care of.”

“In that case, I accept”.

Nafisa conveyed the message to Hazrat Khadija in a state of happiness.

Khadija’s immeasurable gladness could be seen in the smiles on her face. After having a delightful and pleasurable encounter with Nafisa, Khadija sent this message to our Holy Prophet (PBUH), “Oh my uncle’s son, I desire to marry you because you are my relative and a dignified, trustworthy, well-mannered, and honest person from this tribe.”

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH), who received this marriage proposal, informed his uncle of this matter.

Abu Talib confirmed this proposal by directly asking Hazrat Khadija; he learned straight from her that she wanted this marriage.

The Marriage Ceremony

The date of the marriage ceremony was determined by Hazrat Khadija and the ceremony was to take place in her home.

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH), his uncles, his aunts, and some of the leading figures from the sons of Hashim came to Hazrat Khadija’s home on the set date.

Hazrat Khadija provided everything that would ensure a beautiful wedding ceremony. The sheep were slaughtered and the food was prepared.

After the food was eaten, it was time for the oldest ones on both sides to speak, which was in accordance with their custom. Hazrat Khadija’s father had passed away in the Battle of Fijar. For this reason, her uncle, Amr bin Asad, was her representative for the ceremony.

According to the tradition, Abu Talib would be the first to speak. Therefore, he stood up and said:

“Thanks be to Allah for he has created us from Ibrahim’s progeny, Ismail’s bloodline, Maad’s minerals, and Mudar’s descent. After this, I get straight to the point and say:

“As you know, my brother’s son, Muhammad bin Abdullah, is your relative. No youth from the Quraysh can be compared to him. He is superior to them in terms of repute, intelligence, honor, and virtue.

“Yes, he has very little property, but what does that mean? It is a transient shadow and curtain, something temporary that is given and then taken away.

“I swear by Allah that his rank is going to increase and grow even more from now on.

“He now asks for your daughter Khadija’s hand in marriage and pledges to give 20 male camels for her dowry.”

When Abu Talib finished speaking, the son of Hazrat Khadija’s uncle, Waraqa bin Nawfal, rose to speak. He said:

“Thanks be to Allah for He has created us like you have described. He has granted us a far greater degree of superiority than you have mentioned. We also want to be honored and establish kinship with you.

“Oh, the community of Quraysh! Bear witness that I marry Khuwaylid’s daughter, Khadija, to Muhammad bin Abdullah, the son of Abdullah, for the price of this dowry”.

When Waraqa bin Nawfal had finished speaking, Abu Talib wanted Hazrat Khadija’s paternal uncle, Amr bin Asad, to express his consent. Amr also rose to his feet and said, “Oh the community of Quraysh, bear witness that I have joined Muhammad bin Abdullah and Khuwaylid’s daughter, Khadija in marriage.”

Thus, the Master of the Universe (PBUH) was married to Khuwaylid’s daughter, Hazrat Khadija aI-Kubra, who had the most reputable ancestry as well as the most honor and wealth among the Qurayshi women. In the meantime, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) was 25 years old whereas Hazrat Khadija was 40. Their marriage took place in 595 AD; 15 years before his Prophethood.

Then, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) brought his esteemed wife with him to Abu Talib’s home. Here they slaughtered two camels and threw a banquet for the community.

Out of regard for this happy occasion, Abu Talib slaughtered his camels and fed the community and then afterwards, invited our Holy Prophet (PBUH) and his family to his home.

When he went out to greet them, he thanked Allah in the midst of his tears by saying, “Praise to be Allah for He has dispelled all of our sadness away from us.”

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) and Hazrat Khadija, who had attained the honor of being our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) first wife, only stayed a few days in Abu Talib’s home. Afterwards, they returned to Hazrat Khadija’s home in which they would spend their blissful lives.

The Master of the Universe (PBUH) did not marry anyone else while this pure woman, who he referred to as “Khadija aI-Kubra”, was alive. He found every kind of consolation and bliss in this home.

Nothing had really been left to our Holy Prophet (PBUH) from his father’s inheritance. In addition, Abu Talib, who had been our Holy Prophet’s guardian for a long time, was in extreme poverty. In this regard, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) had led a life filled with thousands of hardships and difficulties until he married Hazrat Khadija.

After he married Hazrat Khadija, he used her wealth for the purpose of trade and attained a certain degree of abundance. Nevertheless, despite his wife’s ample wealth, he always avoided extravagance, show-off, and luxury. He continued living his life in a plain and humble fashion. Furthermore, he did not allow worldly wealth to occupy his heart in anyway; completely different kinds of divine and holy feelings had embosomed his glorious soul. The love of this world was never able to unravel those divine feelings.

Afterwards, Hazrat Khadija had six children from our Holy Prophet (PBUH): Qasim, Zainab, Ruqiyyah, Umm Kulthum, Fatima, and Abdullah (Tayyib-Tahir)- in chronological order.

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH)’s and Hazrat Khadija’s most divine feelings had merged in their happy home. Mutual trust, sincere respect, and love governed their family dynamics. Although Hazrat Khadija was fifteen years older than her husband, she was always conscientious, sensitive, and immensely polite towards her husband. Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) deeply loved his esteemed wife so much that even after her death, he never tossed away his love for her and kept their eternal togetherness in an exclusive part of his heart.

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) would always mention Hazrat Khadija’s generosity, benevolence, and all the help that she provided. This reminiscence was enough to rouse our mother Hazrat Aisha’s jealousy and make her say, “I did not feel jealous of any of the wives of the Prophet as much as I did of Khadija.”

How could he not mention her? She was the mother of his children except for one. She extended her friendship to him while everyone else had become an enemy. She consoled him in the face of all kinds of torture and troubles. While everyone had turned their backs to him, she never left his side.

Of course, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) would always reminisce about and would never forget his wife who possessed eminent virtues and an eminent bond of sentiment.

[elsewhereuniversity]

Laundry Girl

In a university that contains the wild-eyed gentry, staff and faculty that dress like they’re medieval knights, and Jimothy - well, I wouldn’t blame you for not really noticing her.

She’s sitting in a folding chair at the back of the laundry room, next to the last machine. She’s wearing a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and black sneakers. Her hair is black, her skin is brown, and her eyes are a perfectly normal grey. She’ll respond to silently if you speak to her: smile, nod, wrinkle her nose. If you ask politely and give her the correct change, she’ll move your laundry for you.

The last machine is always full, ceaselessly rinsing and sudsing and rinsing again. The timer always says five minutes left. If you are on good terms with her, know to keep your mouth shut, and have a little time, sit cross-legged in front of it and look. At first, it will look like any other load of laundry: jeans and sweatshirts, the illicit glimpses of a bra or jockstrap. But if you stare hard enough, it will start to shift. Look long, and you will see that she is washing empty pill bottles covered in blood. She is washing lipstick stains off old love letters. She is washing a cloak made of the same stuff of the night sky (as a favor for a friend).

She is washing your bones.

I know two people who have heard her speak. The first is Mill, who is a Legacy and not going home (not because of the Legacy thing, but because I’ve never seen someone who enjoyed finding out as much as they can as bluntly as they can as much as they did. They know way too much to leave.) One time, pissed there were no machines open and a little bit drunk, they snapped at the girl:

“If that loads not done in five minutes, I’m taking it out dirty.”

The girl turned her head to look at them, more amused than angry. She responded in a smoker’s rasp:

“It’s not clean yet.” She paused and looked at the bruises on Mill’s face, the alcohol stain on their shirt.

“Its not clear yet. You’re not clear yet.”

Mill didn’t take the clothes out. They’re reckless, not stupid.

The other person who heard her talk was a freshman. She was too new to have settled on a safe name, but eventually chose Eighteen. She fled from the guides who kept showing her where water would cross the sidewalks, from her roommate with too many fingers, and from the juniors who were getting the freshies high. She settled in cross-legged on top of the washing machine and pulled a worn-out copy of I, Robot from her shoulder bag. She looked at the girl, waiting in a folding chair.

“Hey, I can move your clothes for you if you want to go.”

The girl stared at her.

“Well, I don’t have anywhere to be… I mean, I just kind of want to read, you know? It’s really crazy out there.”

The girl smiled and shook her head a little.

“No thank you.”

Eighteen went back to her book. A few minutes later, she looked up again.

“What’s your name?”

The girl laughed, full-throated and deep.

“Call me Tahira. You are welcome here.”

It turns out Eighteen wouldn’t need that permission too often. Throughout her years at Elsewhere, it seemed like no matter what she did in them, how much she sweated or got covered in dirt (and on one memorable occasion, green blood), her clothes were never dirty.

- Oak

[mewatchingstuff]

So I've been rewatching Series 12 to get ready for the New Year's special. I'm on the 2-part finale and I have some thots on the companions.

Before I begin I would like to formally state that I actually do like all 3 companions and always have. That being said....

Ryan and Graham have been the more compelling of the three. Ryan doesn't even get much to do but if you pay attention in any given episode you realize he's really helpful. Both he and graham also represent the "heart" of the companions. They interact and connect with supporting characters important to the episode. Ryan and Belle from series 12 is a good example. Their interaction was key to the episode. Also, Ryan and Gabrielle as well. And while Tahira was the key support character in Can You Hear Me? It was Ryan and Tibo's friendship that added that needed layer of humanity to the episode. Graham and Ryan's ongoing grief over Grace that's never in your face nor is it hidden has been compelling since series 11 but it's not always followed up consistently.

Yaz is the most boring of the three, but they push her to do more. The writing will have her jump into investigating something or speak out more regardless of if it's necessary. She also has the most screen time of the companions but she has less character depth. I had a feeling it would turn out like this since the Demons of the Punjab episode about HER family in which she was a footnote. I'm struggling to find SOMETHING about her that indicates some form of individual personality and not just personality boxes you check when you write your first story. I'm unsure why or how they or the fans decided that Yaz should be the unofficial "main" companion coming into series 12. I honestly haven't a fucking clue.

I feel like Yaz can be a great companion but they need to do more than have her run around and sometimes remember she's training to be police.

I know Tosin and Bradley chose to leave but I'm irked Yaz is the one staying of the three. Yes, I know there's another new companion but I have little faith in that. Someone has to pick up the "emotional" slack now with Graham and Ryan gone. So it's either the new one or Yaz, who I already stated above has been lacking the most of the original 3.

[bonniebennettkingdom]

I just seen ur klonnie recommendations and i'm going through them as we speak! (well typing if you want to be specific lol) but those specific authors, I seen u post them quite a lot of their fics in other posts. What makes them stand out to you? Not as a random, but as writers. what made u want to keep going back to their stories. Are their other authors u enjoy other than them? If so, could u recommend them??? I trust ur taste 😉 Luv ur blog by the way ♥️

Across the board, they are very different authors with a very different style. However, they all have in common the beauty of their prose. If you read any of their fic, it is first of all very poetic. In addition, their stories are very unique in their tone, the characterisation is perfect. The emotions are felt through each word.

If you ever read as a sacrificial lamb you are by the irishcookie, who it is mainly smut ( not really but fandom wise people would say it .) It is steal a beautiful poetic read. The character have a voice, and even the plot who is not the strong suit of most "smut fic" shines by how it fits the character.

When you read In nomine frater by Elsac2, It is so well crafted together. There is a palatable conflict, and when it culminates to the end, you don't know what to do of yourself. It also read like classic literature.

Or Kiss by fire by the hedgerider is a trip into regency world and the mythology is so precise. The world building of that fic is amazing. The characterisation is flawless. The prose is beautiful.

The devil's companion by Six2VII is a work of art. The dystopian nature of the premise is original and well executed. Nothing is rushed in that fic. You understand the character motivation.

At the edge of a golden world by writendelete is another fic with amazing world building. It also has a realism of the period. Many like to write fic into an historical period with very modern thought on social behaviours. In that fic klonnie fits the historical context.

Hell with you by the fudge is grumpy is a sensory experience. It is a very visual fic. It is a good take on klonnie dark fic, and it does not fall into the tvd cliché of dark fic ( insert Bonnie goes dark and try BDSM. Powerful Bonnie turns coat and side with the bad vampire. Bonnie tells Elena off. )

Now Mrs Mikaelson by cheleonrage712 is a piece of art when it comes to pacing and each line leads to knowing what is going with Bonnie. It goes back and forth between present future and past without losing itself or the reader along the way. Again the prose is work of a fairy.

A case of you by Anastasia G, take the most over used trope in every single fandom aka the accidental marriage then it switches it in a unique piece. It is melancholic at time, and sometime it is hopeful. The characters exist in each words.

So to summarise it is how unique their stories are in a sea of repetitive trope and plots. The good characterisation, the beautiful writing, the right emotional tone, and the artistry make them very good writers.

Now, other authors who also have that unique mixtures. I have four favorites right now.

fireismyelement97

She builds amazing words through her fics, and she might be the only one who does not use Kennett as a prop for klaroline.

Sweet-Tahira

Everyone who reads bamon fic can point out a pattern. Storytelling is often sacrificed for sensationalism and some version of Bonnie being a snow flake deserving more than Elena. Sometimes, it feels more like an Anti-elena fic than a Bamon fic, but it never happens in her fic. Bonnie's growth is the focus. Bamon is forth and centered. Plus amazing prose.

TalulaJones

Her fics would speak for themselves. Resurrection is one of the best klonnie fic, which I read. Her bamon fics are the best in all bamon fandom. She writes beautifully. The characterisation is top notch.

Make A Shadow

She is my favorite bonkai writer ( actually the favorite of all three admins. We don't post more of her fic because they are T rated and this is a blog for Mature content) the emotional depth of her fic is amazing. Her story are gripping. She captures the perfect tone for Bonkai.

Admin M ( I answered the previous ask, and so I guess this one was for me.)