#i love that he's open to yasmeen

[likeafairytale]

“ Do you want to try too? Surely you can't be as bad as your sister. ” – Yasmeen to Malachai, while she's ice skating with Calypso

“Hey!” Calypso yelled, a bit offended.

Yasmeen tried to hide her amusement, but she couldn't. She wasn't wrong, though, Calypso was struggling to stay steady on the ice and almost fell more than once. Malachai couldn't help but laugh at the view of his sister, and while she came closer to him, she hit his shoulder, making him jumped. He pretended she hurt him, and she seemed proud of herself, which made her brother smile with amusement. The merman stayed in the bank of the frozen lake, while holding his sister, who was still struggling to stay on her feet.

His attention was now on the frozen lake. It was the first time he saw one, and he had to admit it was mesmerizing. It was Calypso's first winter in the Fae Kingdom, –and so his first one too– and winter was full of surprise. The snow, the cold, the warm clothes, the hot cocoa, the fireplace always burning, and Christmas, something the merfolks did not celebrate under the sea. It was a strange season, Malachai thought. Winter did not exist under the sea, obviously there were a change in the current, the water was a bit colder than usual, but it was hard to tell the difference as they were living in deep water, and water there was always colder than the rest of the ocean. And if Calypso welcomed the new season with open arms, it wasn't the case for Malachai.

“No, I came to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” Calypso repeated, a bit confused. “Why? Where are you going?”

“Back home.”

“When?”

“Tonight...”

Malachai suddenly felt unease when he saw how distraught she now was. She let go of his hand, even if that meant almost falling once again, and stepped back, the best she could, with Yasmeen's help. The maid did not let go of the princess, and the latter shook her head at her brother's words, because she did not want to accept them.

“But why?..”

“Duty calls me.”

“Can't you ignore it? We were supposed to celebrate Christmas together, it's our first Christmas, Malachai!” She whined and he grimaced. The merman hated to break his sister's heart, and he knew how much she hated seeing him or Nathaniel leave the Fae Kingdom, not only because that means she was loosing her support system, but also because unlike them, she could not go back to the ocean, which she was jealous.

“I'm sorry, little sister, but I have to. We can celebrate next year. And you won't be alone, Nathaniel stays here.”

“It won't be the same without you!” She screamed, her eyes full of tears. Her eyes were burning now, because of the cold, and she violently let go of Yasmeen's hand that she was still holding. The little mermaid then took off her skates, –not without difficulties– before running away straight to the castle.

“Calypso, come back. Cally don't be childish.”

But it was too late, the girl was already far away. Malachai sighed to her behaviour while shaking his head. He looked at his sister while she was running, and he promised himself that he will bring back her favourite treat, and probably some of her shells that she was collecting in order to be forgiven.

“The sirens again?”

Yasmeen's question brought Malachai's attention back to her. She shyly handed him her hand, and it took a few second for Malachai to understand what she was silently asking. Shaking his head, he softly took her hand, and that physical contact sent a shiver in his spine. He noticed that Yasmeen, too, quivered, but maybe it was just his imagination, maybe she was just cold. He helped her leave the frozen lake and sat on the bench next to her while she took off her skate in order to put her shoes on.

“No, not this time.” He confessed, and Malachai hesitated for a split second, but he then added: “The Selkies. Apparently, they are unhappy with the treaty father proposed, and they threaten to follow the sirens if we do not hear them out. Father is too stubborn to listen to them, so I said I will, in order to keep the peace.”

He was a bit surprised to be so open with her about the merfolks politics. A little part of him wasn't sure if he should discuss it to Yasmeen who was, after all, one of Morgana's maid. But keeping all of it for himself, without no one to confide was weighing on his shoulders. Plus, last time they had problem with the sirens, her helped and knowledge of battle strategy helped them to keep the Norwegian sea. He owed her his home after all. He silently looked at her, studying her facial expression, and he could tell she was lost in her thought. Yasmeen was a real mystery, and he wanted to be the one to pierce her shield. He was waiting for questions, about politics and probably what would be his strategy, but none of that came.

“You know, if you were more open with her, maybe she wouldn't be so mad about you leaving.”

“I cannot tell her, or Nathaniel. It would put unnecessary worries on them, they do not need that.”

“It's their home too, they deserve to know.”

“Not now. Please, can it stay between us?”

“I promise.” He smiled to those words, and she smiled back. To that he couldn't help but blush a little, for she had a pretty smile. “How long will you be gone?”

“Three months.”

“Oh...” She whispered, visibly surprised. Malachai loved to think that she was sad, or disappointed, but he did not want to ask, so he simply shrugged.

“Negotiation took longer than a battle sometimes.”

“This isn't the only reason why you are leaving, am I right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I watched you while you were coming. You limp.”

“You watched me?” He smiled, and she seemed unease, which made him laughed a little. “Is it that obvious?”

“More than usual, at least.”

“I admit that I also try to avoid winter, I do not enjoy it very much...”

He nodded to those words and couldn't help but grimace a little. He thought he had it under control, but visibly he was wrong. The merman was hoping that no one else noticed it except Yasmeen. The cold was chilling his bones and waking up some old wound that did not heal properly, like his limp. So yes, he took the disagreement with the Selkies as an opportunity to go back to the sea and avoid the cold that was winter. Yasmeen had a little laugh at his words, and that made his heart missed a beat. Here was the song that he probably loved the most. A smile took place on his face, happy to have made her laugh.

When she looked at him, he suddenly realized how close they were. He might have come closer during their conversation, without realizing it, and she probably did not realize too, because she did not move at all. For a few minutes, they looked at each other, silently, as they used to. None of them moved. This proximity, although unusual between them, was welcomed by both. The merman wanted to hold her hand, and he was ready to take it, when he heard the crispy noise of the snow, meaning that someone was coming from behind. Immediately, Yasmeen stood up, and Malachai backed up in the bench, looking away. He noticed that it was just a servant passing by, no one important, but the fear of being caught was still there. The girl cleared her throat while gathering hers and Calypso's skates.

“I should go make sure the princess is alright.”

“Yasmeen, wait.” He started, and he almost regretted it. She turned around, looking at him with curiosity in her eyes, and he cursed himself for acting before thinking. Malachai listened, making sure they were just the two of them, before timidly saying: “I... I'm going to miss you.” He could that the girl was trying to hide how surprised she was by his words. She stayed silent, and he couldn't blame her. He probably took her aback, and to be honest, he did not expect her to answer anything to him. “Anyway, tell my siblings I'll make it up to them when I'll come back. And... I'll bring you back a souvenir.” He finally said, an awkward smile on his face, before leaving the Fae Kingdom.

[fawninthesnow]

𝐎𝐟 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐝 & 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝: Pt 3, Silk for Stone

𐙚 Lucius Verus x fem character! 𐙚

Summary: Former Gladiator, Emperor Lucius, takes his rightful property-- the wife of his conquered enemy.

Warnings/Contains: fem character, slow burn, f4m, smut, unprotected sex, spit as lube, cock warming, public hum!l!, h@nd jobs, no proofreading, etc

a/n: slowburn warning!

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In the lectica, she sat up on her ankles, taking this time to breastfeed the baby in her arms. “Hopefully you will fall asleep again, my love. I’m blessed you don’t cry as much as you used to.” One of the girl’s hands planted over her mother’s heart as they held each other close.

Soon, they arrived outside the Pantheon, and she was escorted out the lectica by hand. Through the outdoor halls and to--- “Ah! My gods! ARE YOU MAD?!” The woman clutched her child after the spear passed by her head. To the sound of her screams, Lucius lifted his head. “Are you seriously playing right now?! Outside of a temple?!” She screamed at the two guards; however, her eyes were on the man who threw the spear.

The man dropped his shield and ran to the woman. Although the man was strong, almost intimidatingly so; his muscles bulging from his garb, he whined like a child to her, “My deepest apologies, I-“

She huffed, stomping away from him as soon as she saw the emperor. To her surprise, he continued to walk past her. Grabbing his guard by the neck, “Careless, so careless as to not see a woman and her child!? Had you cut open her neck, what then?!”

**

Inside, she stood under the dome. It was not long before the emperor joined her; they stood together in silence as he wiped his knuckles. “Thank you for defending me.” She said, staring at the various sculptures along the walls.

“Yes, of course.” He looked over at her and then back at the sculptures. To her, then the sculptures. “Would you like to sit?”

“No, thank you.” She bounced her daughter in her arms.

“I got word that you refuse to rest in the palace.” The young woman moved around the large space, her gown trailing behind. “Why is that?”

“I am not tired.” She spoke softer than before, passing him.

He studies her expression with a careful eye, “I know when a woman wants to kill me.” The emperor spoke with a chuckle. “You’re not the first.” She smiled with no emotion before sitting on a bench. He sat on the bench across from her and the twos eyes leveled. Her eyes. She is hiding so much. Her pain is so evident, she even walks like a weeping willow tree. Her grief is for more than her husband. “I was born an heir to Rome, however, Rome did not want me. At least, that is what I was told.” His hands clasped, and his deep voice softened. “Now, for a reason I do not know, I can’t remember this. The emperor’s, the twins, who enslaved you and sold you to your husband—their army attacked my home years ago. I too, was brought here as a slave. The one love of my life killed and left discarded in a field of shit; burned along with the men I fought beside. And your husband…” He bit back his anger, knowing none of that was her fault, “Your husband owned me for several months, fed me lies. I understand your pain and anger.”

“You do not know the tip of my pain.”

“May I at least hear?”

“No.” She hushed Yasmeen as she began to whine. “Shh, shh. You are ok, my love. I am here.” Down his spine, a chill ran deep to his tailbone as she murmured tenderly to her child.

“Fadlan ila hadal.” [“Please speak to me”] The woman turned her head to the sound of her native language. “You don’t have to trust me, but let me listen.”

“I am sure you are an honest man. I am sure your people love you. That women lust you and men respect you. I am sure that boys want to be as strong as you are, but I have no intention to seek comfort in the arms of this empire…out of respect for my husband.”

“This is not about him. You know it is not!”

“My personal feelings come last; I am property after all. Nothing will change, so don’t kidnap me and then tell me your life story and expect me to watch your feet, Lucius!” The woman spat before bowing her head in shame. She crossed the line. “I am sorry, Emperor.”

From her arms, he gently takes the child from her. “Hello, Yasmeen.” He turned his gaze to the mother. “I will dismiss it this time. I am aware you are angry…but I do not accept disrespect, not from any man or woman.” Yasmeen put her fingers in his beard, her right hand on his ear. “What can I give you, here in Rome, that will satisfy you?”

“I am thankful for your kindness. I want to know what your plans with me are.”

“I plan to make you a lady of the court. I have already stripped you of your husband’s name and now you may take mine if you’d like. If not, you will be but one name, []. Your daughter will take my name, and should I want you, I will have you.” She turned from him, her gaze on the entrance to the Pantheon.

“And are you like your Mother’s husband or your Father?” His eyebrows furrowed, “You think my husband didn’t speak of you to me?”

“I did not know my Father…and I did not know the late General, my Mother’s husband for long. But from what I do know, they were good men.”

“They killed innocent people all over, what now is, your kingdom. The Roman empire…” She touched the hand of a statue, “was built on top of dead bodies. You should know this.”

“I cannot change the past, unfortunately, My Lady.” He said with a smile, “It hurts me to think of those innocent lives, yes. However, it was not my doing. I want to change Rome for the better, as my father wanted.” He stood, directing a hand outside the Pantheon and to the city. “I am a man who has killed, I have killed many. Allow me to tell you, I am followed by their ghosts every day! I have travelled many months to these countries--- names I cannot pronounce--- to find the wives and children of these men because something in me cannot rest unless I know they are within this city!” The man stepped closer to her, “I know a righteous empire cannot be built on something as fragile as the defeat of another nation. They rise every day! But heed my words when I say that I am like no other man you have stood beside.” His lips moist and a look of determination in his eyes. As he stood before her, his blue and white royal garb caught the light of the torches all throughout the Pantheon. The young woman touched her own lips. She had yet to notice she had bit deeply into them, causing her to bleed. “Are you ok?”

He continued to hold Yasmeen in his left arm as his thumb grazed her lip. “I am fine, thank you.” He offered Yasmeen to her before placing a handkerchief on her lip. He held the side of her head, cleaning the blood off her skin. “Thank you…” His callused fingertips on her skin made her feel as if she were made of silk. Warm to the touch with the scent of bakhoor rose and frankincense, her skin and hair. His nose lightly buried in her curls, he inhaled. His fist closed as he resisted any temptation.

Later that night, they were fanned as they snacked. “Wine?” She declined and continued to dip her olives in hummus. He shrugged, sipping on his fifth cup. “What are you prone to do in your free time?”

“I am a mother. I do not have ‘free-time’.”

“That is unfair to you, no?”

“It can be.” She said, her legs were outstretched on the large lectus that they shared. “And what do you roman men do? Fight each other? Gamble? Screw whores?”

“That just about sums up us roman men.” He said playfully, his thighs parted as he rested his chin on his fist. The emperor’s eyes lingered on her garments. Her blue dress hugged the curves on her body. “Do you read? Books, I mean.”

“Yes, I can read.”

“I know you speak a few languages now. Latin, Somali…?”

“And Arabic.”

His eyebrows raised as he sipped more from the cup, his eyes drifted down to his waist. “Y- I am sorry for uhm…for saying you are not a woman. A mother to a child is a woman.”

“Perhaps…and I accept your apology.” She laughed, “You said I had ‘tender buds’ for breasts. Was it because I was wearing an abaya, and you couldn’t tell?”

“I will not say yes, but I will not say no.”

The two shared a look before she turned around. “I am feeling cool. There’s no need to fan any longer. Thank you.” Her servant bowed before putting away the fan.

“You skin is just…the perfect shade.” He said softly, she almost didn’t catch it. “Leave us!” The emperor said to the servants and guards. The doors to the lounging room closed, “Come here.” She moved closer to him. “Are you a religious woman?”

“I pray…”

“I see. Do you mind if I feel the dress? I never got to touch it before you…” She agreed. His hand, large and firm, caressed her side. She stared in his eyes as his hand moved up higher along her bosom. He felt her hard nipple push on the dress from the opposite side. “Are you cold?” His left hand reached up and held her throat. She shook her head. “You need not lie.” His thumb rested on the skin of her breasts that peeked through the top of her gown.

Pt 4 on the way!

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[icanbeyourgenie]

“ Can I ask you something... You see and hear everything here, you're the best pys I've ever met I know my question is delicate but please be honest, I won't be mad... Before he was force to marry me, did Aeron brought many girl and boy in his room? I won't be offended. I'm just curious. Because... I never... So I guess I'll be intimidated by his experience. ” – Calypso to Yasmeen at the slumber party

"Oh yes. And that's an understatement!" Yasmeen chuckled.

She was about to open her next candy (how many did she take already? She didn't know. She just loved candies so much) when she noticed how long Calypso's silence was becoming. She raised her head to look at the princess, realizing that maybe she lacked a bit of tact.

"I'm sorry, but you asked for the truth. He's a true rake, he didn't get that reputation from nowhere. Pretty sure he slept with half the kingdom by now, and not just one member at the time."

"I see...."

"Why does it matter so much to you? I know you like him, that much is clear, but that doesn't mean you have to... perform for him, or whatever."

The silence stretched once again and Calypso seemed a little sad when she broke it.

"You must think I'm so stupid right? Falling for the man who kidnapped me..."

"I don't think you're stupid. I just... I don't really understand your choice. I know faes can seem charming, but they're really just cruel and cold. And he showed you that much."

"I know, it's just... we got closer. And we kissed. Twice. And I thought it'd change something but then he just became cold again. And now Zelda is here, and he looks so soft with her... Why does he treat her like that?"

"I don't know yet. But this seems weird to me, if you want my opinion."

But Calypso didn't seem really interested in Yasmeen's theories. She was a girl in love, and as much as the wraith didn't fully comprehend it, she knew that Calypso was not the most rational at this moment.

"You know, the perks of being in a forced marriage means you don't have to only limit yourself to him. You can do whatever you want."

"What if what I want to do is him?"

Yasmeen chocked on her candy, and both girls bursted into laughter. She didn't expect that answer from the princess, but it felt good to laugh. She couldn't remember the last time she laughed so freely and so long. Did it ever happen at all?

Calypso suddenly stopped and looked at Yasmeen with horror in her eyes, which immediately turned the spy's alert mode on.

"What is it?"

"He didn't.... I mean... Please stab me with one of your knives if I overstep, but did he-"

"No. Never." Yasmeen cut a bit too sharply, anticipating Calypso's question "He never asked me to sleep with him. He has a bit of decency in him I guess. Or maybe he just doesn't like changeling. Either way I'm not complaining."

Calypso seemed to relax, and Yasmeen appreciated that it was a criteria for the princess. She knew that Calypso would have been mad at Aeron if he ever used Yasmeen this way. This was conforting in a sense. Maybe that's what motivated her to make the following proposal.

"You know, if you want to get his attention, I could teach you. I know you asked and I said no, but I didn't realize it was that important to you."

"You would do that for me?" Calypso asked with a lot of hope in her eyes.

"... Yes. But not tonight. Tonight, let's eat candies and talk about something else that stupid boys."

"Boys? What's a boy? I don't know this word." Calypso replied while taking a candy, which made them both laugh.

Slumber parties were fun, Yasmeen decided. And friends were too. She never expected to have one, but she found that she liked the feeling very much.

[madewithonerib]

She never let fame define her, Yasmeen once said, "I hope to stay exactly the same bc I see a lot of that, and I don't want to be sucked in by the business. I want to be exactly who I am, and hopefully I still am. But yeah, I don't want to change..you know success, it doesn't have to change your personality, that's greed. [12:23]

Just so you know my friend who could give all her income to help the two random ppl she met one day, she could see right through the evil of the business world. She summed it up for me, while I was oblivious to any of it.. all this while she struggled with her sense of identity and her mom was undergoing a midlife crisis, which demanded facelifts that would cause financial strain on the family & demand round the clock attention that each member of the family of four would take turns coordinating by taking time off work & college & high school.

Her mom was a nurse & from what I can see the Hospital is mainly staffed by young nurses, which only now sheds light as to why she felt such pressure to look much younger than she actually was.

Lisa was 9yrs my junior and was somehow in love with me, when she was so insightful & pure in her desire to be considerate of others; the photos she took of me are reflective of how she sees me, only one other person did that in my whole life. I don't believe the camera is objective so much as a lens into how the person taking the photo sees you. I bet her mom never had a single person see her in that kind of light, and she longed to be admired for something other than her ability to be a utilitarian cog.

I think the culture redefining beauty standards outside the norm, and ignoring the aging process as a natural outcome of time makes it an impossible situation for average families. That is why it is ludicrous to ever want to normalize such practices imo.

In my formative years in the Church Youth groups, I was taught to not give to the poor homeless on the streets of the downtown core of Greater Vancouver. And I am ashamed to say I even tried to pass this mindset onto Lisa as she was giving them of her time & pay cheques. She didn't care if they were only using her..none of that mattered, her logic was very simple:

I have a roof over my head & food to eat but they don't.

This came to mind as I was reading the 13 Attributes of Mercy, and the significance of the number 13 opened with this about generosity & bleeding for the other person's plight:

Any person can show mercy to another, yet there are always restraints & calculations as to how much mercy will be shown. For example, most people walking past a beggar on the street will have a sense of rachmanut (mercy) for the unfortunate person. However, before someone reaches into a pocket to give, s/he will think about the children’s tuition, the mortgage, medical bills, etc. And so, only a small sum will be given to the beggar.

I feel like such scum now, not only did I try to dissuade Lisa from lending any money but I also reminded her of her problems at home. I feel like both Job's wife + the criminal on the cross slandering JESUS.

And I only have this perspective now bc of the thoughtful people GOD has strewn across my life at different stages of development, but I never stopped long enough to care or consider the validity of their stance. I only ever prioritized having fun, that's it.

I know this is giving the Church a black eye but I don't care, it is the truth, everyone in the group was of one mind & they took turns chiming in to berate me for feeling a smidgen of sympathy.

Even a random stranger overheard the commotion & said "Yah, they only use it for drugs..they don't deserve it. They are where they are because they choose to be." Another person from our group said they recently read in the papers they are secretly millionaires from all the money they collect from gullible ppl like me, which evaporated all trust.

Others said they read or heard the same. Who wrote that messed up article???

But you know what's funny about that comment about the article in the news? In the Bible it says they are the ones who are truly rich and it is an undercover job too. lol GOD is so funny, and the other thing I was thinking about was how a candy striper was in the elevator with us & I asked him what he does, he said getting patients a glass of water! You know which verse I'm thinking about here?? verbatim

Happy Thirst of January Everyone!

The Model Who Walked Away From It All | Yasmeen Ghauri

[starry-bi-sky]

Danny: i can't believe-- *thinks about his alternate evil timeline self* actually no, wait, this makes a horrifying amount of sense. Why am I a powerhungry maniac in every alternate world I run into??

Danny: ...thats a morality crisis I can have laater

I love that people assume Danny is like, Damian's secret older brother. It makes sense but it doesn't stop being funny as fuck to me. Once those people catch wind of Danny, they start trying to like, actually track him down because they have to confirm whether or not Danny is actually his older brother OR if its another cloning situation and Damian got cloned, and this one just managed to escape (and also has blue eyes. Genetic malfunction, perhaps? Cloning ain't perfect y'know)

Meanwhile Danny's hitch-hiking across the country stealing from scrapyards, dumpsters, the occasional mega-conglomerate (hey if Luthor didn't want to be robbed blind, he shouldn't be a scumbag. Danny did his homework once he realized he was in another dimension), all trying to build his portal gun to get home. He's considered flying to Nanda Parbat to try and find that cave again, but at the same time he doesn't want to risk it not existing/some other reason. Thats Plan B.

Oh and eventually swatting off some of these pesky heroes. It's sweet that they want to help him, and in any other situation he'd be rather touched, but he's not a damsel, he's not in distress; he's got this. Have a nice day! Leave him alone!

"Don't you have a secret civilian identity to upkeep!?" He demands as he pushes his foot in some hero's face to try and keep them away from him. He's holding back from using his powers and his actual self-defense because it's not like he wants to fight them. He just wants them to get off his back!

Except one of these days he's just gonna up and pull a knife on them or something. Maybe that will get the message across. He saw this pretty sick ass sword at a thrift shop earlier, he'll be totally down to take that. Hopefully it's an effective deterrent.

Many of the pushier heroes are the younger ones, the older ones seem to know to not pressure him. Danny keeps looping back around to central city because he keeps running into the Flash and while the guy is trying to semi-fuss over him, he's not smothering him about it. It's acceptable behavior so Danny doesn't try and escape the fastest man alive whenever they cross paths.

He even tells the guy his name! Er-- well, middle name. It's habitual! It's Danny to strangers, acquaintances, and friends, and Ras to family and best friends. And speaking of-- he hasn't been called by his birth name in ages, and it's making him twitchy and homesick. He misses his mom and dad and Yasmeen and Talia/Ellie like a limb, and its steadily making him all the more eager to return to his home dimension.

(I think it'd be so funny if Dani still goes by 'Dani' as a nickname, its a joke between the both of them. Neither of their (first) names are Danny, and yet they both go by it AND she's his clone.)

("I'm Danny, this is Dani." "Your parents both named you Danny??" "well, no. My name is Ras." "And I'm Talia". Dani picked out the name Talia with Danny. They sat down and opened a baby name registry and went through the list of arabic names. Dani fell in love with the name Talia, so now her name is Talia Elham* Alghul-Fenton)

(*Elham because it can be shortened to "Ellie" which is also what Dani goes by)

I like the idea that Danny meets Tim while he's RR, but I love the idea that they meet in civvies even more. Stereotypical coffeeshop meet cute anyone? Danny's going over the math of his portal gun in a little notebook he filched out of a walmart a few weeks back, and is grumbling to himself in arabic over his math. "C'mon, Ras, it's not that hard. It's just physics." He mumbles to himself over the half-chewed end of his pen, saying his birth name to himself feels like an old blanket being draped over his shoulders -- comforting and grounding.

Which is kinda what he needs right now. He's got a terrible sleep-deprived induced headache, and he doesn't trust Gotham enough to sleep completely anywhere even in his ghost form. -- then, boom, in a random act of kindness, someone sets a to-go coffee cup next to his book.

For a quick, fleeting moment, Danny's tired, irritated mind has half the thought to tell the little interrupter to fuck off. But, for once in his life, his filter kicks into high gear and all he does is glare furiously up at his assailant before realizing what it was that was set in front of him.

He immediately reels back mentally, and forces the tension to bleed out of him as the other boy raises an eyebrow at him. "Not a coffee fan, i see?"

"No, no." Danny says, stumbling over himself, and he rubs his temples to soothe his migraine. "Sorry- I'm running on windows exp levels of sleep right now. I'm, uh- Danny, thanks for the coffee."

And it kinda just goes from there. Admittedly, Tim's motives are not all that pure -- maybe at this point he's heard about the potential Damian clone/brother situation, or he just noticed the resemblance on his own and went to investigate. He hadn't heard Danny calling himself Ras, but he caught the tail end of "its just physics" and got curious.

Except Danny blocked his notebook off -- its written in arabic, but he hides it anyway -- the moment he noticed someone next to him. And when Tim sits down across from him, he closes it, and changes the subject when Tim attempts to divert attention onto it. ("Ah, I needed the break anyways. Maybe some rest will help me solve it later.")

And it spirals from there. Tim has an ethical dilemma over the fact that he may or may not have a crush on Damian's potential older brother -- only to be temporarily relieved when its revealed that no, he's just a clone of Ras. Which then loops back around to 'aw fuck WAIT'. (and only gets worse from there.)

I like to imagine that later down the line, Tim says something about Danny being Danny's first name, only for Danny to laugh brightly and go: "Oh! Oh my god, I nearly forgot to tell you: Danyal's my middle name, Tim. Fenton is my mother's maiden name. My first name is Ras."

also yeah LMAO i love that Ras just knows instantly that Danny is a clone/alternate of him, and goes "ah yes. perfect, a successor :)" and Danny has to bat HIS freak ass off too. Like NO motherfUCKER, LET ME GO HOME.

Bonus! Dani and Danny doodle (if she'd somehow come with him or appeared later on)

Danny Is An Alternate Version Of Ra's Al Ghul And Flash Already Called Dibs On Adopting Him

Danny In All His Sleep Deprived Slightly Scuffed Up From A Fight Glory Is On His Way To Clockworks Tower To Hopefully Get A Nap And Maybe Some Homework Done When A Natural Portal Opens Up In Front Of Him And Proceeds To Unceremoniously Drop Him In The DC Verse Just Outside Of Central City Before Promptly Closing Leaving A Tired Danny Behind In A Run Down Abandoned Parking Lot.

It's Times Like This When Danny Regrets Putting Off Learning How To Make His Own Portals, Cause Now He Is Very Much Stuck For The Foreseeable Future And He Has No Idea Where Or When He Is. Luckily For Him However Central City Isn't Too Far Away, Unlucky For Him However Is That Once In The City He Realizes This Isn't His Dimension. He's Pretty Sure He'd Remember Something Called The Justice League.

So What Do You Do When Supernatural Bullshit Fails You? You Fall Back On Your Mad Scientist Roots And You Make A Portal Gun. So That's Exactly What Danny Plans To Do.

Unfortunately Staying Alive And Building Questionably Safe Portal Technology Requires Money And Supplies, So He Ends Up Wandering From City To City Doing Odd Jobs/Fixing Up Busted Tech For Cash Or Unwanted Electronics For His "Operation: Get Home" Needs. This Obviously Ends In A Few Superhero Encounter Shenanigans.

Though He Always Ends Up Back Near Central City, Both On The Off Chance The Natural Portal Will Open Up Again And Because Out Of All The Superheroes That Apparently Exist In This Universe The Speedsters Are His Favorite (Red Robin Is Solidly His Second Favorite Ever Since The Gotham Vigilante Gave Him A Large Coffee Filled With Enough Caffeine To Kill A Man).

Unbeknownst To Danny However Is That Every Hero/Vigilante He Has Encountered Has Come To At Least One Of The Following Conclusions; 1. Run Away Meta Who Is In Desperate Need Of A Good Meal/Adoption Bait. 2. Possibly Red Robin/Tim Drake Clone 3. A Good Kid But Could Possibly Be A Future Rouge If Left Unsupervised. 4. Did Bats Get A New Kid And Why Is He Here?

All Flash Knows Is That He Saw The Kid First And Therefore Has Dibs. Suck It Bruce.

Fast-forward A Few Months And Danny Gets Hurt During A Rogue Attack While Trying To Help Some Civilians Get To Safety (Old Hero Habits Die Hard (Ha Die Hard) And All That Jazz) And He Nopes Out Once Everyone Is Safe And When The Paramedics Are Busy With Other People Unaware He Left A Blood Sample Behind.

One DNA Test Brought To You By Paranoid Bat Concerns Of A Possible Red Robin Clone Later And They Find Out That Dannys DNA Matches One Ra's Al Ghul.

They Now Think Danny Is An Escaped Ra's Al Ghul Clone.

Memes For The Vibes:

[yasmeenblogs]

Moments of realisation:

At this point in my life I think I've realised that a part of my existence is to make people around me feel seen, heard, appreciated and loved. I've always loved the idea of making new friends wherever I go, getting to know different people and their different perspectives has always fascinated me.

Back when I was in school, every year there would be some or the other newcomers in my class. They'd be very scared and anxious as you know how bullying works in schools. Any new member would have to go through ugly stares as if he/she is an alien and someone from outside of the world. It always made me feel inappropriate.

In situations like this, I'd usually go out of my way to sit beside them and I'd be very silent for a few minutes. I'd slowly start a conversation asking them their name (even though I know the name already) and even if they are not comfortable asking me the same question, I'd tell them regardless. I'd make them feel comfortable by telling them about all the class members, teachers and school staff. Slowly but surely that person would open up to me.

Once the person is totally comfortable with me, I'd then introduce them to all my friends and classmates. After that she'd be one of us and not scared and terrified anymore.

I've always been very conscious of the people around me. I think it's a blessing and a curse at the same time.

I think it's beautiful when you care enough to try. It's beautiful when you remember the little things about someone. It's beautiful when someone who has always been shy, opens up to you. It's beautiful when someone can't gather the courage to talk to other people, can't shut their mouth around you.

I'm not hoping to change people, I'm just hoping to make them feel seen, heard and appreciated for who they are as a person. I'm just hoping to change the way they see themselves, boost their morale and remind them of how beautiful they are. And that they matter.

I'm also not hoping to matter enough to them, I'm just hoping to be someone they can remember.

In a world that has always been cruel, I'm hoping to stand out from the crowd and choose kindness instead while also being humble. I think jealousy and hatred are just overrated. I'm a big fan of all things kindness and only kindness and generosity catches my eye.

There is so much power in kindness and sensitivity. For instance, have you ever smiled at a stranger (while also keeping in mind that you smile at the same gender hehe) and watched their faces glow? If not, I may advise you to try once. It's absolutely endearing to see them smile back at you.

Don't sicken your heart by holding grudges, hatred and envy. Go out of your way to be kind and respectful to the people around you or with whomever you cross paths with. I'm super sure that Allah will never let you down.

-Yasmeen

[themosleyreview]

The Mosley Review: Ms. Marvel

I don't know why, but I'm a bit torn with this new series. On the one hand you have a wonderfully color, fun, cute and sometimes hilarious teen coming of age comedy. This series does something in America that isn't done very often and that is celebrate the beauty and family based culture of the Muslim people. I loved that when we go to Karachi, its not full of poor and starving people but instead they’re thriving and making art. There is so much to love about this show and how its coming age story is very in the now. On the other hand, I felt the insane mad dash to get to the action and what makes this show a Marvel series. It really hampered the brilliance of the storytelling and almost abandons what was making it so great. I really felt that toward the second half of the show, the amount of lore exposition that is dumped on you and then followed up by an over extended series of action sequences that are way too convenient. There is a moment where the villain of the series magically gets their weapon back and really never answers the question of how they got everything back. Its moments like those conveniences for plot that really make you wonder what happened in the writing or editing room. I think the 6 episode format of these shows really need to change to maybe longer episodes or maybe 8 episodes. So I'm split between feeling the fun spirit of the series and feeling the "Marvel sheen" fade right now with the amount of rushed storytelling and dumb story decisions. What I'm definitely not split on is the characters in this new show and how they all play off each other so well.

Iman Vellani was amazing, adorable and sweet as Kamala Khan. Right from the opening minutes of the show I immediately fell in love with her personality and charm. Iman lights up the screen with every smile and really delivers a heartwarming and emotional performance. Her progression from bumbling superhero fan of Captain Marvel to her own fully fledged neighborhood hero was fun to watch and earned. Her relationship with her friends and family were the heart of the show and they all matched her level. Matt Lintz was really fun as Kamala's bestfriend Bruno Carrelli. He was fantastic and he was the perfect partner in Kamala's adventures. Their chemistry was astounding and if it was just about their day to day life, I would be content. I really liked Yasmeen Fletcher as her other friend Nakia Bahadir. She helped illustrate the political aspect of the social clubs in the mosque both Kamala and her attend. I loved that she was a powerful voice in the community for young women. Zenobia Shroff was excellent as Kamala's mother Muneeba. She was fantastic and had such great chemistry with Iman. Yes she played the role of the over protective mother to a growing and energetic daughter whom she doesn't completely understand, but you can't help but appreciate the amount of strength she provides. Mohan Kapur was awesome Kamala's father Yusuf. He does play up the sometimes goofy father, but he captures your heart throughout the series and provides one of the best scenes of the series in the season finale. Arian Moayed returns as Agent  P. Cleary of Department of Damage Control (DODC) and he was great. Alysia Reiner was a bit one note as DODC Agent Sadie Deever, but she represents a good foil to deal with powered individuals. Rish Shah was good as Kamran and of course his part of the story was very predictable. There is a depth to him that is revealed in the ladder part of the series, but it felt uneven and rushed at times. I'm interested in seeing more of him though.  

The score by Laura Karpman was fantastic and I love Ms. Marvel's theme. The score is energetic and adds scale to every action scene and emotion to the more tender moments effortlessly. Visually the show is fantastic and the lighting was great. Now I know that Ms. Marvel's powers have changed from their comic roots, but I didn't mind it. Like I said before, there is alot of lore dumping in the middle chapters of the show that sometimes felt overwhelming and rushed to get to the ending showdown. There are some serious story conveniences that happen here that sort off break the rules of the show. There is also a reference to something in the future of Marvel that felt so forced. Almost like someone took a stick and started beating you over the head with it. Aside from those problems, this was truly a surprisingly fun series that unlike the character Ms. Marvel idolizes, has earned its place in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Definitely check out the mid credit scene in the finale. Let me know what you thought of the show or my review in the comments below. Thanks for reading!

[starseed-witch]

Tonight I’m working with Yasmeen Westwood’s “Enchanted Dreams” tarot set. I love this deck because after every reading I typically get more information through dreams that help enlighten what the cards have said.

For tonight’s reading I decided to dive into a little work about a man in my life whom I’ve come to adore. I don’t do relationship readings, but I was interested in what the cosmos have planned for this man in my life.

Through the cards you can see that this man is a very homey person to me. He gives me strength, guidance, happiness and feelings of fullness. While we have never placed judgement on each other we are very open about expanding each others worldly view. I can see that I have so much more to learn from him. He has and will be a very bright light in my life that will help me see the positives instead of the negatives all of the time. He is a very secure person and makes me feel just the same when I am with him. He keeps me in check monetarily but also reminds me that what is meant to be mine is already there and to not be afraid of spending some of those earning on enjoying life.

[werewolfpropaganda]

Sébastien - Male Werewolf x Male Reader

not sfw. 4886 words. you meet and fall in love with werewolf and busker, sébastien.

You missed seeing the stars. 

You missed seeing the stars deeply — a horribly indescribable feeling you felt deep in your core everytime you looked up at the night sky — because Manhattan had no stars. It hadn’t had stars for a long time, and it probably never would. 

Growing up in rural suburbia had few pluses, but at the very least there was space. Between the lack of restaurants, idealistic white picket fences, and families with two-and-a-half children, there were glimpses of beauty: picturesque forests, a wide open sky, and the stars. You used to go stargazing just about every week with your father well into adolescence (and partly into adulthood), until he died and left you with this mess. You moved to the city, and, well, here you are.

You looked out onto your balcony. It would have been a good spot for stargazing. Only 22 and you were living the American Dream: renting an apartment with an okay view of the adjacent building and a shittily constructed fire escape. You felt like it could collapse at any moment and you would get to recreate “Fire on Marlborough Street.” Truly the American Dream.

It was time for your daily walk. Despite the fact that you lived in Manhattan, you never left your apartment except for work and this walk. You had no real friends and Upper Manhattan was basically just banks and pharmacies, anyway. 

You lived within walking distance of the park, so your routine was partially through there. You put on a jacket and left, not completely sure that you locked the door. 

There was a guy playing the violin about six feet from where you were sitting, and he looked to be about your age. He was really good at what he did, playing a song that sounded nothing like the Suzuki viola books you played from as a child. You never learned the names of any classical composers so you guessed. Debussy? Bach? Vivaldi? Who knows?

He had an open case next to his boots, with about 20 dollars in various amounts. There was also a small card linking to his social media. You pulled up his Instagram, and, well, you hated to admit it, but he was really attractive. In all the pictures, his hair was styled into a wavy bun, although in real life his hair was down. He was currently wearing a bomber jacket and black jeans, and he was fit. Not fit enough to be gross, but in a casual way where you pretend to not care about how you look but you really do.

You dropped five bucks into his case. He looked at you and smiled a cute smile. You smiled back, and then tried to hide it by speaking. “That’s so beautiful. How long have you been playing the violin?” you asked.

“This is a viola,” He stated back, ceasing the music and holding his viola out. He ran his hand down the back of it like that meant anything to you.

“Shit,” You recalled when you played viola as a teenager. Anger was the only emotion you could feel when people called the instrument the wrong name, even though it was a pretty benign mistake. For a split second, you considered telling this to him, but doing that felt like it would make the situation about you and, subsequently, worse. You decided on a simple: “I’m sorry. Fuck.”

“Hey hey hey, you’re fine, darling,” He responded warmly. No one had called you a pet name in a long time. “Most people don’t apologize. Some people argue with me, as if, no, Sébastien, you’ve lost it and you’re actually playing a violin,” You laughed. “I’m Sébastien, by the way.”

French. That was a gross first thought you had, but he was indeed French. You told him your name.

“Oh, I love that. I’m going to apologize for snapping.”

“Sébastien, it’s so totally fine. I know the feeling of people assuming the instrument you play,” Apparently you were going to tell him. Okay. 

“I must say, it’s always violinists,” Sébastien said. 

“Oh my god, I so fucking know!” You unconsciously stamped your feet into the dirt to let out the emotion you were feeling.

“I hate violinists.”

“Hate ‘em. So stuck up.”

“I know. I actually used to play the violin religiously, but then my teacher told me I would have better luck finding a job if I played viola because there were so many violinists. Guess what, I can’t get an orchestral job anyway,” You both laughed. “I do think viola jokes are funny though.”

“Wait,” You said with a bit too much excitement. “What's the difference between a viola and a coffin?”

You could tell Sébastien knew the joke about halfway through, because he smiled and tried to hide it. “The coffin has the dead person on the inside. I love that one.” He laughed. 

You talked for what felt like an hour — about your musical experiences and upbringings and hobbies and pretty much everything — although it was realistically a lot longer. Sébastien was born in France and moved here when he was young, and has been trying to do music ever since. It was still midday when you went out to walk and it was dark now. You stared at him illuminated by a streetlight that didn’t particularly flatter his face, but he still looked good. 

“Would you…” Sébastien hesitated and spoke quietly. “Would you want to get coffee with me?” 

You smiled. “Hell yes, dude!” Your mind flooded with first date spots. “There’s this really cute place by my apartment we can stop by now and then we could probably go starga-” You abruptly stopped and looked at him. Sébastien’s lips were pursed. Fuck. There aren’t any stars in Manhattan. 

“Sure, darling!” He got down and put the money from his case into his bag. He started to put his viola away. “I’ve been busking for a while now and believe it or not fingerless gloves don’t warm you up all that much.” Sébastien paused. “Although maybe no stargazing.”

You felt the smile on your face start to lower. You hadn’t even noticed you were smiling until now. “Not even for the fuck of looking at an empty night sky except for the moon and the beeps of a satellite?”

“It’s like a metaphor.” He picked the case up and looked up at the sky for slightly too long. “Alright, I’m just gonna say it.” He’s a murderer. He’s already murdered you and you’re a ghost. This is the afterlife: talking to a conventionally attractive viola player.

“Yeah?” you asked.

“I’m a werewolf.” He didn’t necessarily look ashamed but you could tell he wasn’t exactly confident in what he was saying.

You had never actually met a werewolf, because the suburbs had no diversity and you never left your apartment. You actually did quite like werewolf porn, but admitting that you had both never seen a werewolf in real life and fetishized their existence would make you look really weird. “Nice.” You were excited. 

You had been seeing Sébastien for about a week now, and were about to go through with your promise of coffee and shitty stargazing. The coffee place had been closed the first time because it was too late, so you tried again earlier. You deliberately planned this for the full moon, and, although you told yourself you wanted to feel guilty about setting up the date for werewolf sex, you didn’t. You could feel guilty after he pumped his jizz into you for the first time.

“Hey, Yasmeen,” you said. “I love your new hijab.” You really did. Yasmeen’s hijab was eggshell white with small gold stars. 

“Thanks, love. You’re paying for it. Literally. You’re buying my coffee and thus paying my salary.” She chuckled and motioned to Sébastien. “Who’s the piece of ass?”

“Aren’t you in a relationship? And gay?”

“I’m like an illiterate nun, love.”

“Right…?”

“I can look at the menu, I just can’t order.” 

“God, Yasmeen.” She laughed at herself again. “Anyway, I’ll have a black coffee and one of those stupid little sandwiches, and Sébastien’s gonna have a pumpkin spice latte.”

“Sébastien? French.”

“I know, right?” You said this a little bit louder than you should have.

“He has some audacity asking for a pumpkin spice latte in early January, especially since this isn’t a Starbucks.”

“Just make it for him.”

“Alright, love.” She put her hands up to indicate innocence. “You’re not normally this snappy.”

“He’s hot. And interesting.”

“Fair enough.” Yasmeen got to work making your drinks, and you sat down across from Sébastien. It was a communal style table, which felt strange for such a small place, and the lighting was slightly too yellow to be flattering. You and Sébastien were probably the last customers. He was typing into a document when you sat down, and promptly put his phone away. 

“Do you know them?” Sébastien asked. 

“Yeah, actually,” you responded. “Yasmeen used to live in the apartment above me and we met like it was La Bohème. I actually used to call her Mimi until she eventually told me she didn’t like it.”

“Huh. Did she need to light a candle?”

“You know it.”

Sébastien gazed down to your chest for a second, before reinstating eye contact. “Wait, am I just being used as cannon fodder to boost the popularity of your friend’s cafe? Do you take men and force them to pay 10 dollars for coffee and a sandwich? Daily? Shame, darling, shame.”

“You aren’t the first man to realize that, Sébastien, although you are the first man to realize that on the third date.”

“And you just tell them when they find out? You must get a lot of wrong numbers.” He laughed a gross laugh — hearty, somehow accented with French, and you felt the vibrations of it just by touching the table — but you enjoyed it nonetheless. 

Yasmeen walked over. “Here is your black coffee,” She said, placing the drinks down. “And here’s your pumpkin latte, love. The sandwich will be out in a bit.” Sébastien looked at you with an empty, but seemingly loving stare, his lips pursed, before turning and thanking Yasmeen. Yasmeen walked away mouthing something to you. You assumed this was her approval, but assuming doesn’t get anyone anywhere. 

“Thank you so much for ordering the coffee, darling,” he said with a smile. The way he said “darling” felt less like a filler pet name tacked on at the end of the sentence and more like a deliberate choice. 

“Hell yeah, dude! It’s payback for the photos you sent me. Also because I love you.” Sébastien had sent you a few pictures of him in his werewolf form before your date with the attached message “I love you!!” That was the first love confession you had received in a while. He used more exclamation marks then you expected, but it was really cute. 

The first thing you noticed when you opened the picture was his sense of aesthetic — sensible, if not a bit too minimalist. The second thing you noticed were his eyes, which were far more yellow than his human form. His fangs protruded out far further than most of the werewolves you’ve seen, his fur was mostly gray except for his white chest and tummy, and he was fluffy as shit. The only thing he didn’t show you was his cock, which you asked him to save for today.

“I love you too,” he said in a soft and light tone, which made you feel one too many emotions. 

“I swear,” You said with a whisper and a lack of inhibition. “When I got to the last photo, the mirror selfie, I literally had to put my phone down because I was just like… that’s so hot.” He was wearing a pair of black boxer-briefs that didn’t do a great job of hiding his erection in the photo. “I saw your bed in the background and it shocked me how huge you were compared to it.”

“I’m not actually that tall in werewolf form, despite being 6 foot in real life. Most werewolves are, say, a foot larger.”

“Really?”

“I… I feel like that’s kinda common knowledge.”

You took a sip of your coffee. It was disgusting. You erred on the side of caution as you said: “What do you mean?”

“Have… have you never seen a werewolf before?”

You laughed, not because anything was particularly funny, or awkward, or even to relieve anxiety. You just laughed to have the noise out there. “Um..”

“Oh, God.”

“No.”

“WHAT.” Sébastien laughed, not deliriously or angrily but in pity. That isn’t what you were expecting. “How have you not… you did go to a shitty public school, huh?”

You were drinking coffee just to do something, and took a large gulp before speaking again. “I will not blame my upbringing on my ignorance, but yes.”

“Question, when do werewolves come out?”

“The full moon.”

“Really, darling?” He pitied you. “Were you born in the 1800s? How much funding did your health class get?”

“I didn’t have a health class.”

“Okay…” He rubbed his temples light-heartedly, you hoped. “Do you know what a period is?”

“Like… blood?”

“No, a werewolf period.”

“Explain.”

“This is common knowledge. This is what you learn when the kid you’re babysitting turns into a werewolf and you don’t realize so you call the hospital.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s my duty to explain this to you. Your information about what werewolves are is really wrong. You’re getting it from, like… fringe articles about the Dendera light bulb. People become werewolves for a few days a month.”

“Okay…?”

“Like a period cycle.”

You smiled, because you found a way to turn your anti-werewolf slight into horrible flirting. “I don’t think I understand. I might need hands-on experience. With a werewolf.”

Sébastien raised one eyebrow. “...Oh, thank fucking god, you’re just flirting.”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“Yeah, of course I’ll show you, darling. I’ll do anything if you don’t scare me like that again.”

The full moon was going to come out, but it’s not like that mattered, because apparently werewolves aren’t controlled by the moon. Okay. Whatever. The sky had nothing else to offer you, anyway.

Sébastien put his viola case at the base of your bed and sat down. “I love your place, by the way,” he said. “You have a fire escape?”

“Those things are death traps,” you responded, laughing and putting your black coffee in the fridge. You would never end up drinking it and only through it out 2 months later to make place for Thai food. “I’m way too anxious about it to step on it.”

“You’re not that high up,” Sébastien said with an abrupt pause. He pursed his lips. “Not suggesting you risk your safety if you don’t want to. Just-”

“Nah, I get you.” You sat down next to him and took his hand. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too.” He breathed in a breath deeper than necessary, and stared at the ground. Uh-oh. “...Are we a thing, darling?”

“We’re multiple things: Human beings. Lovers. A French violist werewolf and a poor 1893 poet.” Sébastien glanced at you with an empty stare. “Hell yeah!”

“Nice.”

“Just gotta consummate it first,” you said.

“You’re a loser, darling.” 

“Are we not gonna consummate it?”

“No, we will, you’re just a loser that’s bad at flirting.”

“I’ll take it.”

“That’s not the only thing you’ll take.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

Sébastien fell backwards onto the bed with his wonderful, beautiful, gross laugh, feet slightly dangled off. His tank top rose slightly and exposed his navel. “Alright, let me get these off and you can climb on, darling.” Sébastien put his thumbs into the hem of his sweatpants and pulled them to his feet. You were sad to see them go because they did particularly flatter him, but this sadness was replaced with a fluster when you saw his thighs. 

His hips protruded out from his midriff with a strong curve, and his thighs were massive. Sébastien’s thigh and calf muscles were defined in a natural way, from time spent outside and on his feet. Almost his entire thigh was exposed by the short, black briefs he was wearing, and he had a nice amount of hair which grew in thickness as it got closer to the inner of his thigh. You could imagine the feeling of running your hands against it, and it was pure bliss. His bulge was nice and hefty and you just wanted to shove your face into it.

“Alright!” He said. You moved and adjusted yourself to be sitting on his thighs. This was the highest above him you had actually ever been, and you briefly pondered what you looked like from his perspective. 

You reached to grab his hand, but before you could he had already taken your hand and placed it underneath his bulge. You lifted your hand and felt his balls as if trying to determine the weight of a bag of fruit, which was a weird comparison but was also the only thought in your head the entire time, besides: “fuck me.” 

“You like that, huh?”

“It’s like I’m at a farmer’s market,” you said without thinking. He laughed.

“Oh, shut up. You are SUCH a loser.”

He placed his right hand onto the small of your back. You could feel his cock harden in your hand, the tip underneath his balls and lying against your palm. His cock began to stretch out the fabric of his underwear. He began to grind his dick against your hand and it grew even more, to what you estimated to be about eight inches. “Good. Good, good boy,” he said with a gruff voice.

Sébastien fixated his eyes onto yours and used his free hand to pull your head closer to his. “Wait,” he said. You felt Sébastien’s body stiffen and his grinding stop. “Oh, god, this is such a stereotype.” 

You snorted. “What’s happening, dude?”

“I’m transforming.” He looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “I swear to God, darling, most werewolves don’t transform on the full moon. My cycle just happened to line up with it.” “I trust you, dude,” you responded back.

Sébastien smiled and pulled you in for a kiss. You closed your eyes and let him do his job. He pushed you down into the bed and climbed on top of you, maintaining a kiss the whole time. You put your hand down the back of his tank top and stroked, feeling the fur of a wolf grow in at a rapid pace. Your heart fluttered and you were almost too in awe of what you were feeling to do anything. It was soft and lovely to touch.

You felt the lips you were kissing become more furry and his tongue longer. His fangs grew in and pushed against the meat of your mouth, which was a foreign, but not painful experience. It became less kissing and more him licking at your mouth and face with a strong passion. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how it felt for him right now. A mixture of both of your spits ran down your face, and you could feel a cock far different from the one you felt before hitting against your midriff. 

Opening your eyes, you saw a werewolf before you. He was much, much larger than you expected, and you didn’t just want to be fucked by this creature, but rather straddled and used as his personal cum dump. Sébastien pulled away from the kiss and you caught a glimpse of his dick, bright red and huge. Just one sight of his knot made you want to scream. 

“How am I?” he said with a gross amount of confidence.

“Sébastien, fuck me.”

He was moving his ass left and right and his cock followed, the tip running against your midriff. His tail was straight in the air, although from where you were you could only see the tip of it. He took his hand, or rather, at this point, paw, and began to unbuckle your belt, careful to not destroy any fabric with his claws. He took your jeans and underwear off with one motion.

You could see his intentions without thought. The tip of his cock was leaking a clear fluid and already at the base of your asshole, just begging to push in and destroy you.

“Ready?” he asked.

“You did NOT lube me up, dude.”

“I- Well.” He stuck his tongue out, and it reached far further down than you expected. “Fine.” He bent down and licked your hole vigorously, lapping in and out as if he were drinking water from a bowl. Sébastien made a mess of spit down there, and you were ready.

The noise you made as he pushed his cock into you was both disgusting and ungodly.

“Are you-”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

He barked, and somehow there was a tinge of French in it. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Or what?”

Sébastien responded by pushing his cock a few inches further into you, stretching you out even further and rendering you unable to speak. He licked your nose and woofed. “Good boy.”

Sébastien went at you for the next few minutes, grunting the whole time. He held you down into the bed with his paws and pushed his doggy cock in and out of you, in and out, in and out. You could feel his knot slam against the base of your asshole, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to take it.

His pace quickened and his grunts started to turn into whimpers — desperate whimpers. He needed to dump his load into you and it needed to happen now. Your entire body had turned to nothing and you wouldn’t be able to move for the next several days, but you tried gripping the bed sheets anyway. It didn’t work. 

You heard him howl and you felt his cum enter you. The neighbors would not like that. 

He knotted you and you saw stars. Not in a positive sense, though. You didn’t see the literal stars you saw stargazing growing up, the stars that Manhattan didn’t have and that you so desperately wanted to see. You didn’t see Sirius, or Proxima Centauri, or the Pisces constellation. What you did see was your vision clouding from the pleasure of feeling his jizz fill you, the pain of his knot, and every other emotion humanly imaginable before you passed out. 

You woke up to a tap from a claw and the horrible sensation of Sébastien pulling himself out of you. “Dklfhsdkfshj,” Sébastien said.

“What?” you responded.

“DKLFHSDKFSHJ.” Sure. Whatever. You were barely awake and didn’t care, and somehow managed to take a pillow and bury your face in it. You could feel a wetness on the inner parts of your thighs and the bedsheets below you, as well as your own on your stomach. 

Sébastien took a fabric you were decently sure was his tank top and wiped up the seed he had left on you. It felt good, being pampered. Just the sensation of the touch of a human, or werewolf for that matter, could send you into a frenzy, so you were living the dream right now. 

Sébastien reached over and took the pillow off of your face. “Oh, you did such a good job, darling. You’re such a good boy.”

You groggily smiled. The sun was just about to set and the lighting was actually beautiful for once in your life. An orange and pink glow emanated from Sébastien’s fur. He was still naked, although substantially less horny. The fur on his chest was so thick and furry that you just wanted to shove your face into it. 

More of his nut left your body and he quickly wiped it up. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s not going to be fun.”

“How… how much did you...” you tried to ask.

“I’ve been pent up, alright?”

“I can tell.”

“Do you happen to have some spare… like… everything in my size?”

“You don’t prepare for changing size as a werewolf?”

“I wear elastic clothing before I become a werewolf, because I’m not a loser. Like you.”

“Hey.”

“I mean like underwear. And a tank top.”

“You just came so much, huh?”

“Do you want to have to wear clothes covered in massive amounts of dried wolf nut?”

“Fair point.”

You moved your hands to prop your body up, and while you expected to have a difficult time getting up you didn’t expect to yell from the pain.

“Sorry.” Sébastien pretended to be humble.

“You’re proud of this.”

“Yeah,” he snorted. “I know.”

Sébastien wrapped the blanket around you and adjusted you upright. You touched your hand to the bottom of his muzzle, pulled him in, and kissed him.

“I’m going to reheat my coffee from earlier. You want yours, darling?”

“No thanks.”

Sébastien bent over to take his coffee from the fridge, and the one benefit of living in a studio apartment was that you could see his ass as he did it. You couldn’t tell if he was deliberately moving in a promiscuous manner, but the sight of the lighter fur below his tail was wonderful. He put the coffee in the microwave and leaned against the counter, and for the first time you saw just how big he was. Sébastien crossed his arms and stared wistfully at you.

After a moment with only the sound of the microwave, he spoke. “Y’know what, darling, let’s go sit on the fire escape.”

“It’s almost dark. And it’s cold.”

“We can watch the moon come out, and I’m a giant fluffy werewolf if you don’t remember. We can take the blanket out if you want.”

“Oh, god, Sébastien, that would be so nice.”

Sébastien took his coffee out the microwave and picked you up, the blanket wrapped around you, and carried you over to the window. You were surprised by how easy this was for him, considering he was holding a hot coffee as well. 

“You’re not even gonna cover your ass?” you asked. 

“You’ll be covering up anything I can’t show to the public.”

“What if the people below us decide to have a nice, romantic evening on their fire escape, and they look up and see giant wolf butt?”

“If anything, that would be even more romantic.” You both laughed. “Fine.” He took the blanket and wrapped it around himself.

Sébastien opened the window and you felt a cold rush of air on your face. He climbed out, carrying both you and his coffee, and sat down on the ledge. You sat on his lap and could feel his soft member against you, although you definitely were not in the mood to take it. You told yourself you wouldn’t be able to take anybody ever again, although you knew that was a lie. Sébastien wrapped his arms around you, and you felt warmth everywhere except for your face. He put his paw onto the top of your head and started to pet.

“Are you cold, darling?” he asked. You could feel his bottom jaw hit the top of your head as he spoke.

“Nope!” You marveled at the sky in front of you. It was vast and empty except for the tops of buildings, and the sun was just about to go down. You sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, taking in the environment and general feeling of love.

Sébastien moved his paw from your head to your thigh, and continued petting. You broke the silence. 

“Teach me some French.”

“In school, you’d start with the pronouns, so, I guess, ‘Je’ means ‘I.’ ‘Je.’” He said ‘Je’ with such a strong intent. 

“No,” You laughed. “I mean like romantic things.” 

“You don’t know ‘I love you’ already? ‘Je t’aime’?

“Je t’aime.” You spoke. You somehow couldn’t pronounce it correctly. “Je t’aime.”

“I love you too, darling, but the vowel in ‘Je’ is a schwa.” He demonstrated. You tried again and still pronounced it wrong. “You’ll get the hang of it eventually.”

You laughed and stroked your hand against his thigh, just to get to feel his fur even more. You felt him press his chest into your back.

Sébastien woofed a small woof and then you returned to your comfortable silence, watching the sun fall beneath the horizon. You realized you wouldn’t actually be able to see the moon rise if you were currently watching the sun set, but you didn’t want to say this out loud and break the atmosphere.

“I just realized we’re not gonna be able to see the moon.” Thank god Sébastien said it before you did. 

“Hm.” You pushed your head back to be closer to Sébastien. He wrapped his arms around your chest.

“We can still look at the sky, even if it isn’t stargazing, per se.” He adjusted you slightly. “Like, look at the beep of the light on top of that tower. It’s beautiful in it’s own way.” “Yeah.” It really was. You smiled, overwhelmed by everything that was happening. “I love you.” “I love you too, darling.”

[nappingtopknot]

My Dearest Will

Reader x Will 

Word Count: 1,162 

Warnings: Angst, a little though.

Notes: Part 1 of ? - This was supposed to be a one shot but it evolved into something more. Buckle yourselves in for the roller coaster of emotions that is this fic.

The thought of saying those words hurt. Because you knew what they meant.

You knew you needed to let go. Get it out. You can't continue to pretend that you're okay. 

You remember the afternoon you both had first met.

He was the one who spoke first commenting on the book you were holding. 

You told him you liked his glasses.

You made small talk waiting in line to order your coffee. He offered to buy your coffee. You found a quiet booth to continue your conversation. He made you feel so comfortable, almost like you had known each other your whole lives. 

Where did you go wrong?

Long nights spent on the phone carried over into spending the day together. You became inseparable.

Your social circles caught on quickly to what was happening. You hardly went anywhere without the other. 

You loved that boy. You really did. 

As you approach the stairs up to his flat you start to feel a sharp pain in your chest. You don't want to do this but you have to. 

Its not fair to you. It's not fair to him.

You remember the holiday party his family had two christmases ago. You felt so welcomed. Like you were part of the family.

You laugh thinking about the silly Christmas headband he wore while posing for you to take a photo. There was nothing better then watching him attempt to dance. "Ah.. wait no, I'm fucking it up" he laughed. 

What are you going to do without his laugh?

You reach the top of the stairs and remember all the happier times you've walked up these stairs. His poor neighbors. Hearing you both always making so much noise coming home late at night.

More specifically that one new year's night when you both stumbled up the stairs making way too much noise. Laughing hysterically as someone came out of their flat to yell at you for being inconsiderate.

Breathe. Just breathe.

You remember the first time he held your hand. You were watching a scary movie that you didn't want to watch in the first place but he insisted on it. 

Shortly after a cheesy jump scare did he realize how terrified you actually were. He had moved closer to you and grabbed your hand, "it's just a movie love, it's not real" his voice soothed. You had never felt more safe. 

You walk down the long corridor to his flat. 

How do you even start to explain yourself?

No one has made you that happy before. The way he'd look at you just made you melt. And his smell oh god his smell. 

One late night when he walked you home it had started to rain. What a cliche. He gave you his jumper to keep you warm and dry. 

He trusted you. You promised.

All that time spent together and all those are memories you made. But here you are standing in front of his door getting ready to poison every last one of those memories.  

You softly knock on his door. Knowing he's not going to hear it. Trying to convince yourself not to do this. 

He doesn't need to know the truth.

You can just walk away now and keep your secret. Take it to the grave and keep your relationship. 

You knock harder. So he actually hears it this time. He needs to know. Theres some rustling from inside which causes your heart to ache again. 

This is going to hurt.

A light is flashes on through the crack of the door. Hes awake. 

There's no going back now. 

"Y/n, darling is everything okay" Will says groggily.

You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Fuck. 

"Do you have a bad dream? Come on I'll put the kettle on" he said holding the door open for you to come in. 

"No I'm- uh.. good I just- We need to talk" you spit the words out finally. Will looks at you puzzled trying to figure out what's wrong. 

"What do we need to talk about that couldn't wait until morning?" He says heading toward the couch.

He takes a seat close to you but he feels so far away. 

You open your mouth to speak again but can't find the words. 

"Love are you alright?"

He needs to know. 

"Will..." your voice shakes. Breathe god damn it breathe.  

You see the concern growing on his face. Fuck. Please don't look at me like that. 

"Your starting to scare me is everything all right?" He reaches for your hand but you pull away. 

Get it over with. Quick like a Band-Aid. 

You close your eyes hoping that if you aren't looking in his eyes it'll make it easier. 

But it doesn't.  Nothing will make this easy. 

You feel the tears coming like someone opened a faucet. Fucking hell. 

"Will I..." you choke out. You can feel your chest ache. You shouldn't do this. 

He frowns moving closer to you "tell me what's wro-"

"Will?" Yasmeen calls out from down the hall her voice getting closer, "is everything okay-" she stops when she sees your sobbing face.

Of course she's here. You idiot. 

Abort. Abort. Abort.

"I'm sorry for waking you" you say strained, looking down trying to fit back the tears.

"Shes having a bad night Yas. Give us a minute yeah?" 

She nods and gives you an apologetic frown before leaving. 

"Will I shouldn't be bothering you this late at night it was nothing important. I should be going" you say as you start to stand up to leave but Will grabs your hand. 

"Y/n please" He holds hand tightly rubbing his thumb back and forth to sooth you. 

"I'm sorry Will I really am" you fight the tears begging to be released. 

"Please stop apologizing. Just tell me what you came here for"

"Will" you almost whisper. You want to tell him everything.

You can't. Not tonight.

You take a deep breath. "I had a really bad dream. And it was just so realistic that I couldn't go back to sleep". Liar.

He sighs and rubs his thumb over your hand again, "That sounds awful love, I'm so sorry. You're welcome to spend the night if it'll help you sleep. I can get the couch set up for you." 

"No, I'll be fine. Just need to get some sleep in my bed." You try fake a yawn. 

"Do you want me to walk you home?" He offers. 

"You don't have to do that. I'll call a ride. I've already stolen enough of your beauty sleep"

Will let's out a soft laugh. Your heart melts at the sound. Why does this have to be so difficult.  

"If you still can't sleep call me okay?" You nod in agreement. 

He walks you to the door and pulls you into a big bear hug, "Goodnight y/n" he says before pulling away. 

"Night Will" 

I love you.

[booasaur]

Hi, what are your thoughts about the upcoming kidnap to Pakistan storyline for Rana? Personally, coming from an Asian bg myself, I think it’s a much needed turn of events to educate people who are not quite aware of what lengths some south Asian families are willing to go to, to conceal sexualities or out of caste marriages etc.

I’m excited to watch it unfold as a dramatic storyline for Kana, tbh. It seems to be a fairly cut and dried action scene where nobody gets hurt physically? And as someone who’s felt very sorry for Rana this last couple of months, I feel like this will be eye-opening for the characters who haven’t always understood or acknowledged what she’d been going through. When Rana explained to Kate that her parents would never speak to her again, I think Kate understood and believed her, but that faded, especially with time spent with her own family, it’s easy to think “it can’t be that bad”. And Zee, outing her to them, what did he expect? So they better freaking dote over her once she’s rescued.

As a storyline for raising awareness, I hope it shames the families who’d consider doing something like this and makes them rethink. The rest of us think ya’ll are gross, and you’re just hurting the people you claim to love. I expect (or hope) Yasmeen gets on her soapbox and lectures them on how terrible and un-Islamic it is. 

I don’t have any misgivings about it because Corrie has sympathetic Muslims on the other side right there, which proves again the value in having a diverse cast. The Nazirs are human and with flaws but they’re warm and compassionate and accepting, the antithesis of the Habeebs. No one can come away from watching these eps thinking the Habeebs represent all Muslims, it’s such a welcome luxury to not have to worry about negative representation being the only representation.

[tina--bean]

By Candlelight

It’s Christmasssssssssss! 

Wow it’s been a long time since I wrote something. I honestly thought I lost it forever but something hit me tonight after watching Last Sumer (written, directed, and acted but Amy James-Kelly so if you don’t know about it I guess you better start cause it’s awesome and yours truly is a blur in the background) and 1,500 words later, this came out. I’m not sure what even happened. It’s not my strong point writing like this, never done anything like it so I kept it simple, with not much happening in terms of Maddie’s character and actions, hopefully that makes sense. 

Also inspired by:

“I’m going to find that girl underneath the mistletoe and kiss her by candlelight.” - Shakin’ Stevens 

It was another lonely Christmas for Sophie. Sure, she had Rosie to keep her company this year but it didn’t take away the empty feeling she got when she’s standing in a room of crowded people, some of whom are coupled, others married or even in the early stages of a relationship, and, of course, a few single. But of those singles, they are all straight. Meaning none of them are on the cards for her so back to the beginning: another lonely Christmas for Sophie Webster.

Rosie is a social person. She will easily talk to anyone and they would easily talk to her. Unlike Sophie who doesn’t work in an office, hasn’t modelled for companies or done fancy PR work in London (heck, she’s never even been to London); she doesn’t have the skills to say something witty or dumbfounded to strike up a conversation, and she most defiantly doesn’t ooze  sex appeal like her sister to talk to anyone she finds attractive.

So, once again, she found herself—especially at birthday and christmas ones—standing in the corner of the room, sipping on orange juice and vodka through a straw while watching the party unfold in front of her.

The party was being held in No.4 and she never felt more like a stranger in her own home. The place felt so small with the guests. Luckily she had Jack to talk to for the odd minute when he wanted a drink or snack because he’s too shy to go and ask their dad while he’s talking with adult friends, before Jack himself runs off to play the ones of his own age.

Sophie did get an invite from Alya to join her, Luke and Kate for a few drinks at their flat before it got cancelled because Yasmeen wanted an early Christmas dinner with her family after Zeedan found out her had to work on the the twenty-fifth.

Just as well really. Sophie still had mixed feelings for Kate so the idea of spending hours in a tiny flat with her didn’t her with the greatest joy.

Thankfully, the party died down after ten—mainly cause the likes of Fiz and Tyrone, Izzy and Dad needed to get back to put the kids to bed before Santa arrived.

By the time finished helping her mum and Tim tidying up everyone else’s mess, it was pushing past eleven. Not forgetting it was also Rosie’s birthday on Christmas Eve so she had left before with friends (‘cause she had them in all places) to go into town for drinks. They did invite Sophie but she kindly declined—told them she was tired.

Not long after the house was back looking like it’s usual state, Sally and Tim excused themselves upstairs, leaving Sophie by herself.

She had many Christmases in the house. Last year had been the first one she had spend somewhere else. What a change sunny Florida was compared to rainy Weatherfield.

She thought about the good, the bad and the ugly. The year Sally them her she had cancer was a tough one. The childhood times where the easiest. The ones where no bad memories were attached, she could remember anything but good times there, like most families. It was the more recent that were harder. One mistake she would never make again. One of the most memorable being the day she met Maddie. It wasn’t a bad one but what followed proved to be difficult. She never would have guessed the following year would prove to be one of her best and that’s the one she liked to remember the most. It was the one that stuck out the most. The night they bit the bullet and Maddie finally, openly, honestly, open-heartedly admitted she loved Sophie. The most perfect day. What a difference a year can make.

Sophie moved into the kitchen to get a candle in a holder she is has not so fond memories with. She realised she might as well toast Maddie’s memory now (as she has she has done every year since she died) in case she didn’t get a chance tomorrow.

It was Jack’s idea, it was his way of understanding so every year, they would light it in a glass case with the letter M on it picked out specially by him and say something, maybe ask something, say a prayer and blow it out, as if they were sending her a well wish. Jack may have still only been a young child but Sophie didn’t want him to forget Maddie.

She took the candle over to the coffee table in the living room and placed it down before sitting on the very couch they first declared their love to each other on. Sophie said her little prayer before leaning down towards the flame.

“I still love you,” she said, then took a moment to herself to think about the memories of that day before blowing out the candle.

It didn’t budge. It didn’t even move. Taking another deep breath, she tired again.

Nothing.

She pulled a face. Weird. She picked it up and brought it closer to her face.

“I still love you, too, you know.”

Sophie didn’t know how to describe what she just felt. She knew that voice from anywhere. She must have been dreaming or even she suddenly realised she had drank more together than she thought because not only did had she heard a familiar voice but she also saw what she could only describe as the spirit of Maddie sat next to her.

She nearly dropped the candle before ‘Maddie’ helped her put it down.

“How…?”

Sophie was gobsmacked. She believed in God and that there was something after death but ghosts and spirits? She wasn’t too sure.

“Don’t ask questions,” Maddie said.

How could she not? She had a million spinning in her head right now. Was she dreaming? She had to be dreaming, that was the only scientific answer.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. She couldn’t help it. She wanted to see if it was real, reach over and touch Maddie’s face again—one last time if she could but she was too frightened.

“What did I just say?”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I just wanted you to know I’m still here. I watch you everyday. I watch you with Jack, see how he’s grown up. I see you’ve changed jobs. I see you drink more. I see you try to move on. I see you’ve changed your wardrobe and you’re hair - I like it. But I also still see you’re shy. You’re still lonely. You still pray things were different.”

“Things are different,” Sophie whispered, wiping away a tear. She never expected this would make her emotional.

“I know,” Maddie reached out over and placed her and on Sophie’s knee.

Shocks ran through Sophie’s body. She could feel it. It was like Maddie was there but with the smallest touch. Like the weight of a feather. So light but so powerful, magical.

“I’m always with you though, in some way. That I promise you. You just don’t know it,” she smiled.

They looked at each other. Sophie studied every inch of Maddie’s fact. It had been so long. What she wouldn’t give for these moments again so she used that to memorise those features again.

It was Maddie who finally spoke again.

“You’re going to have to blow out that candle and I’m going to disappear. You have to pretend this never happened.”

“How can I?” Sophie pleaded, letting another tear fall.

“No questions,” Maddie shook her head. “I have one last thing and I have to go.”

Maddie reached into her pocket—wearing the clothes she had been that Christmas night 2014—and pulled out pulled out mistletoe before Sophie’s eyes.

If Sophie wasn’t so overcome, she would have laughed, told Maddie not to be so cheesy but she couldn’t she was still in so much awe.

“What do you say we have that kiss we never got when I said I love you?”

Sophie nodded slowly. She didn’t say anything. She still couldn’t, the overwhelming feeling was too much. Se let her body move closer to Maddie’s, and when their lips met it truly was an indescribable feeling. One Sophie had missed, had longed for. It felt so real. Still so light and so soft. Perfect with just them and by candlelight.

But sadly, when Sophie opened her eyes, Maddie was gone.

Just like that she was alone again. The candle was blown out and, for some reason, it made Sophie smile. With it, she took herself to bed, and even thought she knew she couldn’t feel it, she fell asleep knowing Maddie’s was right behind her.

[andmyvape]

Tywan, has anything been troubling you more than usual?

(Received after Sanzin’s exodus from the cottage)

“After Sanzin left, Shaya has been beside herself. Every morning she’s awake before dawn staring out the window waiting for him. I won’t lie; I’m usually listening for the door to open and for my boy to come in shouting about some trick he learned with his bow, but... He’s a Yasmeen, and an Igneous, so whatever trouble he will inevitably trip face-first into, he’ll fight his way out of. 

But if she snaps at me one more time for asking her nicely to stop pacing before she wore a groove into the floor, vow of pacifism or not, I will take up my old sword and duel until she either decapitates me again or calms down, so help me sands. It’s a testament I love her this much that I haven’t broken yet. She always did have a penchant for melodrama.”

[prettygreenbullet]

This was the main image used for promoting the event. The painting itself proved to be quite popular and found a really good home. The exhibition is up until February 22.

Months of work came to fruition last Wednesday with the opening of my latest show Until at the Contemporary Art Platform. It was a crazy night, a reunion of sorts. And what better way to share the event with those who couldn’t make it than with pictures. This first batch was taken by my very dear friend Reem Algharabali.

One of my best friends is photographed by another. This is Sarah and her artist husband Matt.

Joseph Fiannaca under Mistletoe. Joseph makes soft-scented, natural soaps among other sensual things.

Huddled in a corner. Unlike popular belief, they are NOT being punished.

My only picture with Azza, who manages CAP. I’ll need to get that remedied.

Lubna and Hamad. Did you taste her warm apple cider that night? Did you hear her sing?

Mona and Aseel.

Peter Duckett. Peter was my Spanish teacher at CAC (Cairo American College) way back in the late 80s. He flew to Kuwait from Bahrain to attend, which was a huge bonus!

Beautiful women, even when their eyes are closed.

My son Khaled, my brother Mohammed and my daughter Zainab. Love, love and love.

The very special Deema Al-Ghunaim. Deema was a great support and actually kickstarted the initial phase of the polyhedron display. I can’t wait to work with her again.

Peter, me and Wafa Rashed. Wafa is one of those people who holds a special place in my heart, despite the fact she’s off social media and I want her back.

CAP owner Amer Al-Huneidi with some guests.

Sara with the sparkly eyes. I can look at her all day. And she’s one of those people whose words roll smoothly off her tongue. In the background is artist Suhaila Al-Najdi.

Up and coming artist Zahra Al-Mahdi, aka Zouz the Bird.

I love this photo. I like how the two sets of women, one on the right and one on the left, mirror each other.

My niece Yasmeen and my daughter Zainab.

This is another shot that beautifully captures the relationship between my paintings and my guests.

Isn’t it wonderful when people grin big. Zeina Mokaddam from PH7 has a giggle with a friend.

A classic beauty, my dear friend and agent Noor Alzabin.

I called it ‘Mistletoe’, many were calling it ‘The Kiss’.

Ladies two and three dimensional.

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Rania and Aiping.

There was a wide demographic. I’m glad there were younger kids there.

Reham Alsamerai matches my painting.

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      until } reem algharabali’s photos Months of work came to fruition last Wednesday with the opening of my latest show Until…