Vincent Van Gogh, Ever Yours: The Essential Letters

Dua for parents. (Surah Al-Isra 17-24)

‎رَّبِّ ارْحَمْهُمَا كَمَا رَبَّيَانِي صَغِيرًا

‎Rabbir hamhuma kama Rabbayani Sagheera

‎"My Lord, have mercy upon them as they brought me up [when I was] small."

‎May Allah make us look after our parents and treat them with kindness!

My Linzin song went from "Mr. Loverman" by Ricky Montgomery to "APT" by ROSÉ & Bruno Mars real quick… 😂

Clearly, I’m unstable… but hey, it is my birthday month, so yeah! HAHAHA

I LOVE THEM SO MUCH~

Eid Mubarak to all of you who are celebrating. I know it's hard to get in the spirit this year as so many Palestinians spend their Eid starving and in tents but I hope your Eid is full of peace and love. May we see a free Palestine by next Eid.

Karl Marx really hold onto his principles until he died :) i would even panick if i was him.

history + last words

Buttercup (Invincible)

Author’s note: as someone who lost my mom, I had to write for full mask mark losing his mom. Different circumstances, but still has grief all the same

Warnings: Death, grief

(Technically a short story for the Invincible AVRP AU but can be read by itself)

Characters: Full Mask Mark Grayson, Debbie Grayson

💛🕊💫🌼☁️ 💛🕊💫🌼☁️ 💛🕊💫🌼☁️

“Mama!” His high pitched child voice squeaks out, running to her with open arms as if he forgot she was there with him. She smiles wider as he kneels down to his level, opening her arms wide. He giggles and crashes full force into her, knowing that she will always be there to catch him, to break his fall. He laughs as she hums “woah!” At his enthusiasm to ses her. She lifts him up into her arms, wrapping them around his tiny body to make sure he’s secure. Nothing will hurt him.

“Look mama!” He hands her the flower, and she gasps and takes it from his delicate hands.

“Woah, thank you, sweetie.” He beams at the praise.

“Do you know what flower this is?” He shakes his head in return.

“This is a buttercup, if you hold it under your chin and your chin is yellow it means you like butter” he gasps in return and lets his mother hold it under his chin.

“Oh, looks like someone likes butter” she teases and lightly tickles his tummy. He giggles in response before chuckling out, “now you try mama!”

She hums and holds it under her chin with a smile, the buttercup glowing a yellow hue under her chin, “is my chin yellow”

He gasps and nods, like this is some sort of witchcraft he’s never seen before.

“Let’s go see if your dad likes butter” Mark cheers as she lets him down, holding the buttercup as his tiny legs run to his dad.

—💛🕊💫🌼☁️

“Do you remember that, mom? After that I have always picked you a buttercup or two on Mother’s Day until I was able to buy my own flowers. Always of a yellow variety though, it has to be in theme,” he chuckles weakly before talking again, “Happy Mother’s Day, Mom”

Mark pressed a soft kiss to her temple, as tears dropped onto her pale skin. He pulls away, as he stares at her lifeless body. He can’t let go though, they haven’t had enough time together. They never got to go on a mother-son vacation, she will never see him have children, she will never get to even reach the age of 60. In his head, he hopes by some miracle she will gasp for air again, but he’s tried all he could. CPR didn’t even work but crushed her ribs.

He carried her over to the couch, hugging her close and he pulled a blanket over her. He doesn’t want her to get cold, she always hated the cold. Out during sunny days was what she loved. The yellow lilies, daffodils and buttercups were wilted on the floor, the water spilling, the vase shattered.

He runs a hand over her cheek, feeling her body slowly get cooler. He clenches his teeth, thinking of all the times she said I love you, and he wished he said them back. Or the times he would rush out of the house to play at a friend’s house and she looked disappointed that he didn’t stay to eat her cooking. Or when he would play with his dad more than her. What if she hates him for that? He’s sure hating himself right now for that.

He hums a tune to an old song they used to play in the car as he braids her hair. He knows she’s dead, even if he doesn’t want to accept it, but she deserves to look beautiful even after she lives.

—💛🕊💫🌼☁️

“Mama?”

Debbie turns, she hadn’t heard Mark use that name in a while. He looks in shock, on the verge of tears, and he wraps her in an almost crushing hug- literally.

“Mark?! What’s gotten into you? We had dinner together yesterday. Are you happy to see me?” She chuckles it off.

“Mom, oh god- I want you to know I love you, you mean the world to me. You raised me better than this” He rambles as his voice quivers, his eyes watering and ready to overflow.

“Mark? Seriously, what’s wrong?”

“I got you these”

He hands her a bouquet of lilies, daffodils and buttercups, with specks of dirt on them like he found them and pulled them from the dirt himself.

“Happy Mother’s Day, Mama…”

MANIFESTING THE DINBO BABY IN CANON

Surah Yusuf is so beautiful. It teaches us the closest people can betray you, broken hearts can be healed with love, ease comes after hardship, being sad doesn't equal being ungrateful, and people of patience have beautiful endings.

Subhan'Allah

After some confusing paperwork and talking to a social worker. I have free healthcare till next year so I can renew it. I have all my pills except one. Walgreens is out of stock. Till then. I am complete for now. Lucky me. Alhamdulilah.

The killing is wrong but that actually involuntary manslaughter

Rewatching Hannibal. I maintain my stance that Abigail Hobbs has done nothing wrong ever.