storytellersumayyah
until there is nobody left to fool
sumayyah (su-may-yah) | she/her/hers | nineteen | british indian | hijabi | law student | author | the world will carry on turning and i will turn with it | i love you, i love you, i love you | about me | buy me a ko-fi | read my novel
1050 posts
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Last Seen Blogs
jitthan
Untitled
cajsolas
is anybody waving back at me?
fat-tasty-krogan
Shirohige Speсial
whatisreggieshortfor
Speak or run away. I won’t stop you.
ammers10
Backlog Crusader
Text
you loved me when it was easy, even when it was not supposed to be and you taught me that the right people always do that.
you showed me how to love in a way that is more like existing than anything.
you smiled and you knew what to do and what to say- even when i did not- and you never once complained about the ways i chose to cope.
you went along with my whims and my plans and my ideas like you had never heard of anything so sensible.
you asked the right questions and you followed up on the responses as though you were genuinely interested, because you were. because i was.
you took the art i gave you and you held it like it was a baby, and even when it was objectively awful, you looked me in the eye and you said you loved it because it was mine.
you learnt how i feel pain in a way that is different and you accepted that i don’t always inject the right amount of tone into my words and you left it at that.
you realised that sometimes i sabotage and i spiral and i get in my head and you sat there and talked me out and through it all, and you were gentle the whole time.
you knew i was good and you soft and bright and beautiful before i knew i was those things things myself.
you loved me the way some people would only ever dream about even if they had the ties and obligations that being family come with.
you loved me and you love me and you will love me. and i will do the same, for however long we spin in the same orbit.
and if i were to write a love letter, it would be addressed to my friends
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
the warmth may not exist forever, but it will return
tw: disordered eating habits, effects of disordered eating, discussions of weight (gain/loss/perceptions), body image, mentions of relapse
They’re watching a movie when it happens. It’s something they’ve seen before. It’s not long and it’s not complicated and the night is less about the movie than it is the two of them finally existing in the same space after a long week of exams.
The movie is coming to its climax when it happens. Tristan reaches out for Rafael’s hand. This is not a new thing. It’s a staple in their life together at this point. One of them reaches out and the other grabs them as tightly as they come.
So it’s not even a debate. Rafael takes Tristan’s hand. And that’s when they notice.
It’s warm. It’s so very warm, even though it’s cold outside and a little chilly inside because the haven’t turned the radiators up yet.
And Rafael doesn’t know what to do or if they’re supposed to say anything. The guides always told them to never comment on a person’s weight. But this isn’t commenting on Tristan’s weight, it’s commenting on a simple characteristic of his. And Tristan has always told them to do what feels right and he’ll decide if it’s triggering or not.
So he speaks.
“Your hands are warm.”
Tristan pulls away. “Sorry. Is it too hot? Or are they clammy?”
It’s something they’re still working on. The idea that when Rafael comments on something, they’re simply commenting. It’s not a dig. It’s not a code. It just is. And they’ll get there.
“No. No, it’s fine.” They take his hands again. “It’s perfect.”
Tristan doesn’t look convinced. “Does this mean you don’t like them when they’re cold?”
The truth is he doesn’t. Tristan’s hands being cold are a reminder. They’re a sign that he’s still lying sometimes. That it’s always going to be there.
“I like them however they are. But this is nicer. I like that they’re warm because it means they’re only cold when it’s cold outside and you’re also cold outside.”
Tristan laughs. “Sometimes you make no sense.”
“I know.”
“It’s about my eating isn’t it?”
Rafael feels the world still. They have no idea what they’re supposed to do. They don’t want to comment on the amount Tristan is eating, but it is. “I-“
“It’s okay if it is. I noticed it too. My hands feel warmer now. When I eat the way I’m supposed to.”
“How does that make you feel?”
Tristan shrugs. “I don’t know yet. If I ask you how it feels, will you tell me until I ask you to stop and no more?”
They both know the answer will be yes, but Rafael appreciates Tristan asking. It helps them establish their headspace. “Of course.”
“Then tell me.”
“It makes me feel happy. It makes me feel good to know that you’re getting better and you’re giving your body what it deserves. I like that your hands consistently feel warm when I touch them. I like that you go for runs and come back and still have energy to do things. I like that you’re strong enough to hold me. I like that you’re back to struggling to grow facial hair and that you’re doing what feels right. And I feel honoured that you always trust me.”
“Because you make it easy to. What if I don’t like the weight I am? I’m happy that the smallest clothes I owned have gone to charity but what if I’m still not okay with how I look?”
“Then I‘ll be okay with it and you will be neutral and that will be good enough.”
“And if my hands go cold?”
“Then I will hold them and sit with you until they warm up again.”
Tristan closes the gap between them. Rafael admires how his face is soft in their hands. How his arms are strong enough to keep theirs pinned by their side. How the skin they graze under his shirt is softer. How their hands are warm, and stable, and enough.
Now and always. No matter what.
buy my a ko-fi! | read my novel!
#sumayyah writes#the heartbreaker's handbook#tw disordered eating#tw weight discussion#tw relapse mention
0 notes
Text
cw: family relations
i cannot write to my mother.
where would i start?
do i tell her i love her and then list all the ways i hate her or do i list all her mistakes and then remind her that i love her despite them (not because, never because)?
do i tell her she must be beautiful because i am beautiful and i came from her or do i tell her i cannot be beautiful because if i am nothing more than the spitting image of her?
do i tell her it is okay that the pain didn’t skip me because i felt it so it will not touch her grandchildren or do i tell her that she should have seen the ghosts in my eyes?
where would i end?
i cannot write to my father.
what language would i use aside from the one that only ever cursed him?
do i tell him that it is fine he does not know the simple details of my life because he is not the exception or do i tell him that there were simple questions with simple answers and he should have asked?
do i tell him how i am sorry i am not a daughter he can ever be truly proud of but i will do my best to be something or do i tell him he is responsible for who i am so my shame should be his shame?
do i tell him about the way i take every question with an ounce of suspicion because it must mean something more or do i tell him about the way i tell my friends when he does the good thing?
how would i share?
i cannot write to my sister.
when would be the moment?
do i tell her that she took my chance to be my own person from me without realising or do i tell her that everything i am is because she was someone else first?
do i tell her that i seethe with anger as i adjust my life to fit around hers the way the earth orbits around the sun or do i tell her it does not matter because being a sibling is swings and roundabouts?
do i tell her that the things she says are insults to everyone, acceptable only because of the blood we share or do i tell her that i suppose it is better that she trusts us enough to be furious?
why would i start?
i cannot write to them.
so i write about them.
perhaps it is the same.
they end up being loved and slandered in the same sentence either way.
i can write everything and anything but words to the ones who raised me
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
tw: death
i want to love you so much that when the time comes, i let death carry you the way your parents once carried you from the car.
i want to love you so much that when you whisper an apology for leaving too soon, you make it knowing you have always been forgiven.
i want to love you so much that the choice was never who must go first, but how long i must live without you by my side.
i want to love you so much that you know can you leave when the time is right, no matter where that ends up being, and especially if it is not in the hospital.
i want to love you so much that when you say goodbye, the last thing you see is a tearful smile because i chose to not fight the inevitable.
i want to love you so much that i bear the pain of losing so you may avoid the pain of leaving.
may i love you so much i let you go
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
you want their fingers stained with blood from the thorns of the roses they plucked for you.
they want your entire being overwhelmed with the need to feel them against you in whatever way possible,.
you want them closer and closer until it’s not enough and they need to reach into your soul and entwine it with theirs.
they want you to lose the need for everything but them- they will make themselves your clock and you food if only you ask.
you want them to take the knife that is forever in their hand and destroy someone, just because you asked them to.
they want you to take a match and set the world on fire because they vanished into the darkness for a second too long.
you want them so badly that you cannot explain the hunger, only that it is so present you can think of nothing else as it consumes you.
they want you so badly that they would not even hesitate to life a weapon to keep you safe, but they will be on the attack and there will be no white flag of surrender.
you have always loved daises above all other flowers,
they have always been a pacifist.
it is the kind of devastation that is confused for love
#sumayyah writes#writing#poetry#poem#hi i also have a tiktok now#it's storytellersumayyah#i just post my poems with pretty music
1 note
·
View note
Text
THE GUIDE AND THE LIGHT: SEASON ONE, EPISODE THREE
The Guide and The Light are a series of comedic, romantic and soft short stories detailing the representation Muslims want but are never allowed to have. We all deserve to see ourselves fall in love and keep that love. We all deserve to have our beliefs respected and celebrated, instead of treated like a joke or insulted.
It’s about giving my community what they want and turning conversations that shouldn’t have happened in public into something we can all smile at. I hope you enjoy. (Also yes, this is the complete opposite of a monthly update but truthfully, I had no motivation to write this and then uni started and err... but anyways, updates will come when they come, however, I have an outline for the rest of the season!)
read on wattpad instead! | rewatch previous episode | view full series
EPISODE THREE: THE HONEYMOON
note: brief and implied conversation about intimacy/expectations, discussions of financial situations
The end of June came faster than either Yahya or Noor were prepared for. But luckily, they were both similar people, which meant the Saturday before they were set to leave saw all of the items that needed to be packed on the bed, lists open and ready to be filled in.
“We’re going for five days,” Yahya said.
Noor looked up, pausing the episode she had been playing. “I know.”
“Why do you need twelve pairs of underwear then?”
She looked at him, and it was one of those moments that she described as being the undeniable reminder that he was a man.
“I need one for each day we’re there. And then I need a spare one for each day we’re there, and then I need two additional emergency pairs, obviously. Don’t tell me you’re only bringing five!”
“Of course I’m not bringing five! But I’m also not brining twelve, because I don’t think my body is going to completely change in Italy of all the places. If you really must know, I’m bringing eight.”
Noor didn’t look convinced. “I’m not taking any of them out.”
“I wasn’t even going to ask you to, it’s your luggage. I just wanted to know why.”
“I know you did. And I’m sorry if that came across as snapping. I’m just stressed about flying.”
“Then talk to me about it.”
And oh. Of course. Things really could be that simple. If it delayed their packing by a few hours, because Noor had a whole list of things that were stressful, and all of them seemed connected to something else that was also stressful, and then Yahya decided they needed lunch, then all Noor did was look at Yahya rolling his clothes, and remind herself that they did have time.
“You’re tense,” she said, as she climbed into bed.
“Mhm.”
“Do you want to talk about it yet?” She asked.
Yahya shifted away. Noor rolled onto her stomach and switched the lamp on to properly illuminate their faces. And as much as she wanted to, she didn’t try and reach out to touch him. He would come back to her once he had the words to describe what he needed to, and she would have enough patience to wait for them.
“You know how it’s our honeymoon. And we got married in May so it’s already delayed, like it’s been two months.”
She just nodded, not quite seeing where he was going.
“What if we get through the week and we’ve still not- because I didn’t want to?”
It took her a moment to fill in the gaps. “We’re going on a honeymoon because we want to do a couples trip together. That means we get uninterrupted time together to do tourist things, eat food and exist together. It does not mean we have to do something we don’t really want to do. It’s a big deal. We’ll do it when we’re both ready. It’s only been two months. We have the rest of our lives.”
Nothing was guaranteed, but she sounded so sure that one day, they wouldn’t even hesitate, that all Yahya could do was smile, switch the lamp off and grab Noor’s waist right where she was ticklish before hugging her loosely.
It was nice.
For all of five minutes.
“I need to make sure I packed the right coloured hijabs.”
“Noor, please, it can wait till tomorrow.”
“No, but what if we forget tomorrow and I haven’t? Are you going to take me to a market to buy the precise colour I need?”
“My god. Okay, just wait till I’ve pulled the duvet over my head to switch the main light on, okay?”
“Thank you!”
As it turned out, she was missing one. Yahya felt the smugness radiating from her was uncalled for, but he let it slide.
They spent Sunday resting and snacking in an attempt to clear the fridge of everything that was already open. When it reached dinner, and Yahya realised they had no ingredients left, Noor turned her phone towards him. Their new favourite takeaway order was already in the basket.
On Monday, they arrived at the airport three hours early. It had been nice for both of them to get somewhere so punctually, although Noor had jokingly said something now had to go wrong because the morning had been so stress-free. Yahya immediately made her make a dua that it wouldn’t. She countered with the fact that nothing could be perfect, but asked for things to not be too difficult.
And they went completely normally. Which meant that even though they didn’t set off any alarms because they followed the rules and took their shoes off and kept the liquids in one hundred millilitre bottles, they were still randomly selected to have their hand luggage searched. Pretty much everything had fit into the suitcases they’d decided to take since they were driving to and from the airport and wanted to bring back gifts for some of their family and friends, which meant the hand luggage was just an emergency change of clothes, some things to do, and their technology, which there was nothing suspicious about. Neither of them bothered to be nice once their things were handed back, and the look they exchanged meant they would be debriefing once they were no longer within the local radius of either airport.
Yahya took the window seat on the way there, because Noor had said she would take it on the way back. He leant backwards as Noor took a few pictures of the view.
“Lean forward please,” she said.
“But that’s going to block the view,” he protested.
“It won’t.”
He frowned, trying to understand how she could possibly be correct, but did as she said. Her smile grew as she kept pressing the camera button even though the only thing he was doing was adjusting his hair slightly and then forming a heart as she wasn’t letting up.
“Let me see them,” he demanded as she lowered her phone.
She kept smiling, and as Yahya swiped through the photos, he felt the heat rise to his cheeks. “You’re so embarrassing.”
Because he’d been right. You couldn’t see any of the clouds, or the many shades of blue in the sky. But he could see himself, going from slightly reluctant to forcing a smile, to grinning as widely and proudly as he could because Noor looked so happy behind the camera. He could see his eyes light up. He almost believed he looked handsome.
“I will convince you one day that you deserve to be in front of the camera as much as you like being behind it,” she said.
Yahya ducked his head, hating the fact that he was science smart. He could explain to Noor the science behind his racing heart, or the associations his brain decided to make. He could tell her about the hormones being in her company released, and the closest formulas he could use to describe the reactions he had to her words. But they would never be as beautiful as the easy declarations she managed to make sound so perfect.
“What are you worrying about?” She asked.
“You know I love you right?”
She nodded. “Of course. You say it everyday. It’s just that sometimes you use different things. I saw the diagram you drew. I wasn’t snooping, it just fell out when I was dusting. You don’t need to change. I find it endearing.”
“You saw that?”
“I was waiting for you to say something, and then life got in the way.”
“I’ll try my best.”
“That’s all I could possibly ask for.”
“Can I please take some photos of you? Even if the view isn’t very pretty?”
“You’re a good man Yahya.”
“Oh my goodness, you are so dramatic sometimes!”
The landing was smooth, as was going through immigration. The hotel wasn’t too far from the airport, but neither of them wanted to carry their luggage, so they decided to call a taxi and freshen up before they started to explore the city.
It didn’t stop either of them from looking out the window.
“Venice is beautiful,” Noor whispered.
Yahya just nodded. There were no other words that could be used.
After they checked in, Yahya immediately kicked off his shoes and lied on the bed, too tired to even care that he was still in the clothes he had flown in, Noor, however, immediately perked up as she informed both their parents and siblings that they were in fact, still alive after collecting their luggage.
It was funny, how even at their age, their parents still wanted confirmation at every stage. And it was also nice.
“We didn’t debrief on the supposed random selection,” she announced.
He laughed, unrestrained and without fear of being told it wasn’t nice. “Please Noor. We’re in Italy. We have a wonderful view, and this bed is so comfortable. Can we do it another time?” He asked, but he was being serious. They were on their honeymoon. He didn’t want to think about institutional issues.
“Of course. Also, if the bed is so comfortable, roll onto one side please.”
He obliged, and Noor flopped down beside him, not even bothering to take her socks off as she always liked to do before getting on a bed.
“Are we seriously that old that a flight to Italy of all places knocks us out? I know we said we could do Venice in a day, which is why we’re leaving Wednesday morning for Rome, but if we seriously don’t leave the hotel at all, we’ve officially become old,” Yahya said, rolling over to face Noor.
She didn’t reply for a few seconds.
“Noor?”
“You look really handsome right now,” she whispered, as though it was some kind of secret.
He couldn’t help laughing again. “Noor, we woke up at I don’t even know what time, and got on a plane. I assure you, I don’t look handsome.”
“You were the one who told me there’s more than one way to be something.”
“Well then why don’t you take a picture?” He was joking, but sometimes it was easier to cope with all the love she had to give when he had a camera to look at.
“I want this to just be a memory.”
He smiled even wider, only lightly protesting when Noor leant over him to grab her phone.
They did leave the hotel. But only a dinner time. And they went straight back home. Still. A win was a win.
It did mean they were well-rested and ready for a day of sight-seeing. It was the most fun they had ever had, wandering down random alleys, travelling on gondolas and taking all of the tourist photos they could possibly want.
“Can you get my phone from my bag please? I wanted to see what places we have left,” Yahya said, after they were done with lunch.
Noor obliged, but then saw that his hands were full with the ice cream cones he’d said they absolutely needed. As a little treat for being up so early and for doing so much. Noor wondered what other pieces of her logic would be used against her. “What’s your passcode? It’s saying it needs it.”
Yahya ducked his head slightly. It just meant he was level with Noor. So he cleared his throat. “It’s twelve, zero-five, twenty-three.”
Noor frowned, trying to work out the significance. “Stop. Your phone passcode is our anniversary?”
He nodded. “Well yeah. Wait- what’s yours?”
It was her turn to be embarrassed. “Maleeha’s birthday?”
“Seriously?”
“We’ve known each other since we were eight! It’s always been her birthday because it’s easy for me to remember. And you got a new phone in June. I didn’t.”
Yahya laughed. “I know, I know. Now come on, we still have places to go.”
Noor watched him walk away.
They switched the lights off later that night.
Yahya wasn’t awkward the next morning, which made Noor glad. Small steps were still overwhelming when it was the first time taking them, but they were both fine as they took their respective things to the bathroom and packed pyjamas neatly before boarding the train to Rome.
“I had fun yesterday,” Yahya said.
Noor rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad.”
He kissed her forehead, then turned to look out the window.
“Why do you always do that?” She asked.
“Do what?”
“Kiss my forehead.”
“Because it feels delicate and you deserve to be treated like you’re delicate even though I know you can carry whatever happens with ease and with grace. Also, it reminds me I’m taller than you.”
She shoved him lightly. “It was so nice and then you ruined it!”
“Ah, Noor. When will you learn? Nothing can be perfect.”
“I mean, you are,” she said, and even though she was always so confident with the way that she loved, she still seemed shy as she complimented him.
Yahya was touched, but the joke was right there. “Noor, I am not the prophet.”
It took her a moment. “You’re not funny!”
“I’m hilarious, I know.”
She just shook her head before she rested it on his shoulder. He kissed her forehead again. She looked up at him and he kissed her lips, just once, before he rested his head on top of hers.
They spent their day shopping, trying to find souvenirs for all the people that had told them that it was their honeymoon and they weren’t supposed to be thinking about other people.
Noor picked up a print. “Would you like this in our flat?” She asked.
Yahya smiled at the way she said our. “Maybe. Can we look at a few others before we decide for definite?”
“Oh, of course!”
They picked a different one to the one Noor had first chosen. The one they were planning on putting in their living room was one they had both immediately loved.
By the time they decided to have lunch, they had ticked almost everyone off their list.
“I think I’ll buy my form group some chocolates. They’ll like that, won’t they?” Yahya asked.
“I don’t see why they wouldn’t. You’re cute for giving them something,” Noor said.
“I mean, it’s no different to you taking a box of biscuits in for your colleagues- why are you smiling like that?”
It was the soft smile. The one that followed a simple but disarming sentence. “Because you didn’t even deny being cute.”
“Well, it’s not worth fighting you,” he said. But it was starting to feel true. He was cute, and there was nothing wrong with admitting it.
Noor could hear what he wasn’t saying. She smiled, and she was just as bright as her namesake.
It’s Noor who picks out the chocolates for his form. Yahya can’t happen but pull her in by the waist and press a kiss to the top of her head. Noor looks down, and Yahya realises that he’s made her flustered. He can’t help but be proud of himself.
He paid for dinner.
Noor protested.
“You can get the gelato,” he told her.
And then he paid for that too.
Noor looked a little upset, and Yahya was afraid she was genuinely upset. She doesn’t speak to him whilst they walk back to the hotel.
Yahya doesn’t enjoy communicating, but he’s trying to be better. So he asks the question he’s been dreading.
“Are you okay?”
“I wanted to pay for the gelato.”
“I didn’t think it would matter that much. I didn’t want it to seem like I was taking over, or lying to you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not that. It’s just that, you’ve paid for so much this holiday and I- I have money! I can do it.”
“Noor, I know you do. I know you can. And if it makes you uncomfortable, then I’ll let you pay for some of the stuff. But it’s my duty to pay for you. And even if it wasn’t, I’d want to. You- you’re so good with your hands and with the way that you touch. And I’m good with spending money on other people, because I like choosing things they’d like. It’s my way of reminding you that you don’t need to worry about the things you can’t do, because I’ll do them. And I will never buy anything I can’t afford. I promise. And I know it’s silly but-”
“It’s not silly. It’s sweet. I guess I was just doom-thinking. You know? I don’t want you to use this against me.”
“Noor. I’m not going to use this against you. I promise. If I ever do, divorce me. Because I don’t want you to be married to a man like that.”
Her eyes widened. “Yahya.”
“Noor.”
“I still can’t believe I found you.”
“Noor. You were always meant to.”
“I like the way you say my name.”
“I say it the same way everyone else does though.”
“No. You say it with more love.”
He smiled. “And what an honour it is to get to do that.”
Noor only paid for a few items that she was buying solely for herself.
As they were packing to return, splitting the dirty laundry between the two bags, Yahya couldn’t help but feel smug.
“Look. You didn’t need twelve pairs of underwear,” he teased.
She rolled her eyes. “One day, it will come in useful.”
He laughed.
Noor didn’t take a photo, but she did memorise the sight. It was, after all, her favourite one. And she couldn’t wait to hear it an uncountable number of times more.
buy me a ko-fi!
#sumayyah writes#the guide and the light#can we believe!!#after a six month hiatus...#but anyways#moving swiftly on#i write when i want and yeah#original story#original characters#muslim#islam#muslim romance#romance#rom com#short story#love
0 notes
Text
The Happy Moments (31/12/23)
I washed my hair and cleaned my room
Wrote an end of year/start of the new one poem and it was really good
zerobaseone and danceracha did their performances and they were so good violinist Hao!
STEP OUT 2024 means one kids room is back!
0 notes
Text
May the worst thing that happen be a piece of burnt toast or running a few minutes late or a simple rejection.
May the best thing that happen be smiling without worry and with no fear of what is around the corner.
May the biggest dilemma be what to eat from a fully stocked fridge and overflowing cupboards.
May the easiest choice be saying yes to thing you want no matter how much it scares you.
May the biggest hurt be cured by time or medical care or both.
May the largest win be something that matters to you and only you.
May the start of the week be accompanied by some grumpiness about returning to ordinary life.
May the end of the week be nothing more than a day for the weekly shop and getting things in order.
May the smallest event that happens be waking up in the morning and being happy.
May the biggest occurrence be uneventful.
May we have the privilege to be unremarkable.
new year's resolution: be unremarkable
#sumayyah writes#writing#poetry#poem#i have so many poems to cross-post but this was the most important#because it was the goodbye this year/hello new year poem#yes it's political#there are genocides happening around the world#how could it not be#we are going to hear fireworks whilst they hear bombs
11 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can I have 🌸 for Jonathan and 🌙 please for your celebration? Happy anniversary to THH!
🌸 a random piece of information about Jonathan
You're the only person who asked me about this so have a few!
When Kathy first started using crutches, Jonathan deliberately fell over whilst using them to show her that she could do cool things that he couldn't. She realised later what he'd done, but she never said anything.
He knows that Tristan and Adelaide treat him like he's fragile. He feels guilty for accepting it. Just like he knows that someone, somewhere along the line, changed his title to save him. He feels angry that he likes that.
He is actually a very talented pianist. He just doesn't like to advertise it, but when he can't sleep, he sneaks into the music practice room that is always left unlocked and he plays until he sleeps. Tristan finds him most times.
🌙 something that happened that i associate you with
Honestly, my memory of my own book is so poor. However there were two that really did come to mind immediately so have them both
When Peter asks Tristan where his medication is. He just asked. It wasn't a big thing. When Tristan said he doesn't have any, Peter looked a little confused, but he just moved on. That situation wasn't about judging Tristan's choices, it was about doing what he needed, whatever that looked like.
Also when Kathy asks Tristan about her mother, and whether the divorce means that she doesn't love them anymore. Tristan doesn't treat her differently just because she's a child. He's soft with her because she's so young and it's a messy situation, but he knows that everyone always assumes she's less than she is. And he doesn't want to do the same, so he doesn't.
0 notes
Text
The Happy Moments (30/12/23)
We went for a day trip as a family
I brought a book
There is now a masterdocument for my hypothetical book adaptation because I want to keep track of all the drama we're adding as though there wasn't already enough
0 notes
Text
The Happy Moments (29/12/23)
I finished all my uni work
Sorted through my scrapbook photos
0 notes
Text
The Happy Moments (28/12/23)
Me and my sister went for a walk
I came up with the best sub plot for me and my friends in our fantasy THH adaptation
1 note
·
View note
Text
The Happy Moments (27/12/23)
My heels and new sunglasses came
I also ordered my Eid suit- yes it's in April but I saw the suit in September and they had one left and it was in my size
1 note
·
View note
Text
The Happy Moments (26/12/23)
I ordered some things in the sale which was fun
0 notes
Text
The Happy Moments (25/12/23)
tw: food mention
We had french toast for breakfast
I saw all my family and it was nice
1 note
·
View note
Text
The Happy Moments (24/12/23)
I finished EU Law!
0 notes
Text
The Happy Moments (23/12/23)
I got dressed up cos we were hosting but I got to see my friend in the process which was nice
0 notes