september will be kind. september will be magical. september will bring the missing energy. september will be working towards our goals and self. september will be a month full of growth.
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

#extradirty
hello vonnie
Xuebing Du
todays bird

Love Begins

pixel skylines
YOU ARE THE REASON
Jules of Nature

Jar Jar Binks Fan Club
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Fai_Ryy

izzy's playlists!
Not today Justin


Discoholic 🪩
Noah Kahan
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@nasimabee
september will be kind. september will be magical. september will bring the missing energy. september will be working towards our goals and self. september will be a month full of growth.

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Silence.
you can barely tell
how his eyes are red with regret
shadows overcast his breath
except he’s carrying truths of spring
pensive lone hairs scattered across cheeks
as his smile sings
lips pursed full of remembrance
containing part metal, part string
his heart is still open
laced with unforgiving sins
now he’s learnt to cloud hop with jade
yet days have shone darker for him
tender pupils bilingual with bad language
his tongue opaque unable to sit still
sober on the bad days
he’ll tell you a myth
mumbling words at paces for you to part ways with
his mouth is a safe haven for compliments
he guards them like gold dust
you’re only ever worthy if your mother told you so
his mothers mother told him twice over
that moses didn’t part seas for men to lie dormant
so he watches
ever conscious, letting his ink travel across pages
scribing nuances till the last day rests.
حي على الفلاح meaning - Hasten to success Adhaan (call to prayer) at a beautiful mosque somewhere in Sharjah. The best thing about Muslim countries is listening to the adhaan 5 x's a day. #adhaan #calltoprayer #muslim #islam #masjid #mosque #dubai #sharjah (at Soudi Mosque)

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white flag.
hugging you is a homecoming if the world was ending would you tell me you wanted something other than a label to describe the way it feels for your skin to envelop mine as if all of mankind were invisible as if no other living soul walked the earth as if the stars beaming were our hearts beating for one another? i wonder if you would choose a safe space instead of the security i will never be able to offer you in the folds of my arms.
i luv u
what you are.
you are the thunderstorm i never read the forecast for. brewing between coffee cup contemplations and haphazard moments of fate i trembled at the thought of us beneath the vanilla skies we found ourselves sitting under one night.
i memorised the feeling your shoulder blades left when surrounding my face. the way your fingers felt in unison with my own tangled with no worry to hold us back of time to keep track.
sometimes we can’t comprehend the things our bodies crave for we can only picture the existence of a possible and everlasting happiness so when it happens we do not sense it. we fall short at feeling because we fail to recognise the colour contentment has we seek in the things that will never fulfil us rather fulfil others.
whilst within, burns a raging war. self inflicted destruction under the guise of conformation. for satisfying steadfast desires never worked well for no man.
We were separated, though we were made for each other.
Some shit love song.

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for the one who took away my right to decide.
when did you become the one in charge of me for me to be and choose as free as i wanted?
who gave you the right to pick on my behalf and make an attempt based on what you want not i?
what is it this choice you give me closed crossroads a dead end to further yourself finishing me?
the fight.
awaken me from my ignorant slumber because i am surrounded by catastrophic red the beginning of a wishful lie at dawns early light split a moon in unequal parts disseminated tiny fragments of a broken sun an envious site to some this collision of countries and pasts leading me to stand under a destructive sky glorious in its perseverance collapsing at my feet and i stumble in search of stability unknowingly finding a happy cloud twenty three castle towers train track flowers ending just as they’ve begun as candy floss smoke entwines with honeysuckle ice we prove a hot chaotic melodic mess hanging heaven above my head pouring emptiness in to someone else feeding a travesty with these lights knotted apart though picturesque a view of a perfect us in a different time zone inside of me you’d make a home but now i’ve fallen upon unforgiving shoulders in the blink of a moment, snap it’s all over awakening in candlelight wax melted fire roams away all this effort just for a dream yet a penny of hope is not all that it seems when shrapnel hits like a bitter hurricane cuts me like cubes from sugar cane and i wince, weaponless no armour i saw no harm or threat or karma refused a gun didn’t want a grenade so i tremble as my skin reacts to your acid rain.
TLC, 1995
Gryffindors are bright mornings, leaves dripping in gold. They’re the trailblazers, unafraid of the road ahead. They’re laughing so loud your stomach hurts, the knowledge that your friends are right behind you wherever you go. They’re ice skating with someone you love, clinging on to them for dear life. They’re make-believe games with quests and dragons and swords pointing at the sky. They’re rosy cheeks, winter winds and freezing hands. They’re the adrenaline when a plane takes off, the drop at the top of a rollercoaster. They’re delighted screams and freedom, the wind through your hair. They’re panting, pillow fights, feathers bursting into the air. They’re finger painting and festivals and burning sunsets. They’re the burn in your lung after chasing something you’ll never be able to catch.
Hufflepuffs are honey and flowers and the soft autumn sun. They’re knitted jumpers and scarves and soft tan boots. They’re fresh air and nature, the sound of birds singing. They’re rolling down a hill in the spring, grass stains on your knees, daisy chains in your hair. They’re waving at someone across a crowded room, bright smiles and laughter. They’re coming home after a long day and seeing your family. They’re playing fetch with your dog, your cat weaving between your feet. They’re fluffy socks and song birds and kraft notebooks with hand drawn patterns. They’re throw cushions on a bed, a tiny cottage surrounded by wilderness. They’re the ground beneath your feet, the air that you breathe. They’re the light you chase when you thought you’d never see the morning.
Ravenclaws are leather bound books and overstocked libraries. They’re waking up at two am to google that thing that’s bugging you. They’re journals with half the words crossed out, scribbles and ink stains and missing pages. They’re stretching when you’ve been hunched over all day, rolling off the edge of a bed, burrowing in blankets. They’re torch light and held breaths and reverent whispers. They’re the entire night sky and everything beyond it; the embodiment of the universe. They’re desperate searches and hidden castles and ghost stories by firelight. They’re the mystery of a dark corridor, the force of a whirlwind. They’re the excitement of discovery, the rustle of crunched up paper. They’re the last whisper before you fall asleep.
Slytherins are foggy hillsides and picturesque landscapes. They’re hand written love notes and subtle glances across a classroom. They’re black boots, long coats, buttons done up to the top. They’re tipping your head back to breathe the air, kicking up stones on a deserted path. They’re mirrored lakes, everything below the surface. They’re the confidence to get something right, the feel of magic in your fingertips. They’re holding your breath underwater, pretending to be a mermaid when you swim. They’re finding that one song that makes you want to create a storm. They’re the chill in the breeze, the force in the tide. They’re enchanted forests and lingering glances and long drives. They’re the lightning and the thunder and everything in between.

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#MuḥammadanFridays: Gentleness
I can’t help but feel that this is a quality that is slowly but surely diminishing in our communities, you just have to browse over a few comments in a YouTube video to see what I mean. Times are challenging, and in many cases we are victims, so in our helplessness we turn to anger and think that harshness or ‘tough love’ is the way forward. Firstly it is an oxymoron, and even though the intentions might be right, there is potential to do more harm than good.
So how exactly did our Prophet (ﷺ) deal with people? Well, he (ﷺ) never sugar coated things, he was very straightforward, truthful, and continually calling to the way of Allāh. But what made his message so appeasing to the heart and soul was his soft and gentle manner. This gentleness is what broke the hardest of hearts, and made sworn enemies into close confidantes.
The Qurʾān says, “So, by the mercy of Allāh [O Muḥammad], you were gentle with them—and had you been harsh or hard-hearted, they would have dispersed from around you. So, pardon them, and ask forgiveness for them…” [3:159]
This verse was revealed after the Battle of ‘Uḥud, where from a winning position the Muslims lost, and some 70 people died, including the Uncle of the Prophet (ﷺ), Sayyidīna Ḥamza. Here you could argue that a harsh response would’ve been justified, but the Prophet (ﷺ) remained composed, calm and prayed for them. Some of us lose our mind when we misplace our keys! Or how about when someones phone goes off in the mosque? Uff.
Gentleness has a beautifying component, as the Prophet (ﷺ) said, “Gentleness is not found in anything without adorning it, and is not withdrawn from anything without shaming it.” [Muslim]
And ultimately Gentleness is what we seek from our Lord, in this world and the next. Yā Laṭīf!
يَا لَطِيْفًا لَمْ يَزَلْ أُلْطُفْ بِنَا فِيْمَا نَزَلَ .. إِنّك لَطِيْفٌّ لَمْ تَزَلْ .. أُلْطُفْ بِنَا وَ المُسْلِمِيْن
This.
Destruction.
Short story
10 minutes: My battered teddy and ballet slippers in my pink Barbie bag. 9 minutes: My diary, the one with little hearts woven in to the cover. 8 minutes: A picture of Baba and his pocket size Quran he gave me that belonged to Bibi. 7 minutes: I don’t understand why they’re doing this to us. When I die, I’m telling God everything. 6 minutes: where’s Mama? Who’s shouting? Ya Allah, I’m terrified. 5 minutes: *screams*, *7 continuous gunshots* and *silence* 4 minutes: I can feel their pounding footsteps vibrating within the floorboards of my home. 3 minutes: My door flung open and I think mama is dead so I’m clutching this picture of Baba to my chest. 2 minutes: Ya rabbi ya7mini. 1 minute: I’m beneath my bed, facing my wall, eyes shut. “Haha, you’re coming with me, little girl.” He grips my ponytails and drags me out.