#to go with my sahar drawing from last year :)

[zeroshadows]

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

😥Please watch the video until the end Look what happens to us We don't know what comfort is We are tired of this situation. Every day we are in constant danger Please help us and stand with us Please share this video with your friends We have the right to live like other children in the world in a healthy environment, away from fear, killing and hunger

Donation link 👇🇵🇸

(this is a new donation link since the old one got frozen! If you've donated to Shehab's family before, please ask gfm for a refund and donate it back to here.)

More info here

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Please help support Sahar's fundraiser by donating however much you can and sharing her gofundme as much as possible! We can help her and her family escape the brutalities of the ongoing genocide with our support. Every action counts! No matter how little.

Blog intro under cut ↓

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Hey, besties! Welcome to my art blog :) [also known as: porpledotcom on ao3]

I'm Charlie (he/she/it), and this is my silly billy blog of whimsy and fun!! (join my niche little group of weirdos, we have poem nights here <- convincing you)

Submissions are open! But the askbox is closed :]

Professional multifandom-er and yapper. I switch fandoms very fast and they tend to last from a week to several years, so this is an early apology for my followers for the roller coaster ride you've just joined :(

HWINEBHABWNAJCAHOWEEATOWEUB AU Masterpost!!

Tagging system!

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Fandom tags will all be tagged accordingly by their names! i.e:

#tf2, #trolls, #tadc, #wreck it ralph, #gravity falls etc etc...

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My doodles and drawings are at #my art

Most of my asks now are through #submissions or #submission, since my askbox is closed!

#asks are obviously the asks (but beware because if you send me any kind of ask, I might be sending back a disgustingly long answer, and very late)

#rebloob are where all the reblogs are, but when I reblog things related to Palestine I tag it with #palestine

#my post or #silly/sput chatters is where my babbles and text posts are at

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#requests are where all the art requests are at

#sona stuff and #my sona are where my sona content are at

Specific Tags!

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If you're here for the Gravity Falls "HWINEBHABWNAJCAHOWEEATOWEUB AU", the tag is just that! Everything should be in there :)

There's also the #stanley's sketchbook tag

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If you're here to look at content for my ao3 tadc fic: "Escaping Virtuality" go check out #escapingvirtuality! (although I don't think there'll be much to look at there asdhjgk)

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For those of you guys who came for the job switcheroo au, the general tag is #job switcheroo au or job switcheroo!

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For those who came for the disability/mobility aid tf2 mercs, the main tag will be #disabilitymercs

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If you want aything else tagged just ask!!

Since tumblr is such a broken app, you can always just click on whichever tag you want underneath on this pinned post

Anyways, cheers bestie, love you :)

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Main blog: @scarilylackingofcommonsense

Old blog (very much dead): @would-it-hurt-if

Other art blog (also pretty dead): @mister-chucklefuck

[taminoarticles]

— Tamino for Glamcult, #138 THE SANCTUM ISSUE / November 2022 (x)

SURRENDERING TO WHATEVER'S HAPPENING AT THE MOMENT: TAMINO

WORDS BY GRACE POWELL PHOTOGRAPHY BY JORRE JANSSENS

Belgian-Egyptian musician TAMINO-AMIR MOHARAM FOUAD (aka Tamino) is the singer-songwriter pulling on our heartstrings. Grandson to renowned movie star MUHARRAM FOUAD, Tamino has had stardom in his veins from the very beginning. Trained at the AMSTERDAM ROYAL CONSERVATORY, and having seen his first glimpse of fame with the 2017 release, Habibi, the artist has since been heard on stages around Europe. It was the release of his 2018 album, Amir, which made the world stop, listen and reflect as he hypnotised us all with tracks such as Indigo Night and goddess of nature, Persephone. After what felt like a prolonged hiatus — not so much as a cheeky Insta’ story — this year Tamino is back with his sophomore album, Sahar. Glamcult spoke with Tamino after the release of his first album, so why not make a tradition of it? From the flawless sounds of the Oud, the sight of a flamingo stuck in the mud, to his early days studying classical piano — we cover a lot from the backseat of a car en route to his Glamcult shoot in the depths of BELGIUM.

Gc: Hi Tamino. How’s it going? 

T: I’m good thank you — ready for my Glamcult shoot, so you know all about my day! The location is crazy, I didn’t even know this existed in Belgium. 

Gc: Yes, I’m the anonymous producer of your day, ha-ha. It’s going to be great. To start, could you tell us a bit about your musical beginnings?

T: Of course. So, if I go to the very beginning, I started with piano when I was around ten or eleven years old. It was my mum, actually, who proposed it, as she saw that I had a fascination for music. My mum also played classical piano, so it was a logical move for both myself and her. However, I didn’t last very long…

Gc: Logical — but less sustainable?

T: Honestly, I stopped because I didn’t have the patience to study the classical pieces to perfection. Because of this, I then decided to take a break from music for about a year before I started going back to the piano again. This time, I returned with a different mindset and I started to play freely; choosing my own chords and writing my own songs. This began when I was around fourteen.

Gc: So, no emo phase?

T: I did play in a couple of bands before finally performing solo at around seventeen.

Gc: I like this idea of beginning rigidly, and within that rigidity finding your draw to fluidity. Do you still feel like you need this freedom in music today as you did as a child?

T: I always pursue freedom in sound. Even though I love classical music (both listening to it and going to concerts) — and of course, I have admiration for those who are able to learn a piece to perfection. However, it just wasn’t for me as it was always someone else’s latest.

Gc: You recently released the single (and video) Fascination, one of the first tracks from your latest album, Sahar. What inspired this song?

T: Like most of my songs, it all began with noodling on the guitar. I usually begin by humming a melody before finding the words. For this song, however, the words came with the melody. There is this one specific anecdote within this song — “I didn’t cry for that flamingo stuck in the salt. Didn’t care for it at all, While you couldn’t hold your tears, Your fascination’s always fascinated me.” This came from watching BBC Planet with my significant other. It was about how our different reactions to the same scene caused inspiration.

Gc: So, it can really come from anywhere… Any other unusual inspiration points?

T: It’s so difficult to pinpoint! Often it’s less specific than this case. That’s the beautiful thing about songwriting. Often you don’t know how it happens — which is strange in itself. Even though you can sharpen your tools through practice, you still never know what’s going to happen.

Gc: It’s a never-ending journey…

T: Exactly. I feel like when it comes to songwriting, it’s very hard to become a master of your craft.

Gc: However, sonically — do certain genres inspire you? For example, there are many clear Arabic references, alongside folk music and jazz within your work.

T: The influences are for sure there. I love Arabic music.

Gc: Has living in Antwerp influenced your sound at all?

T: It has of course influenced me; however, I wouldn’t know precisely how. Antwerp is a cool place, but I think it’s time to spend some time elsewhere. Although, I’m going on tour soon — so it’s out of the question at the moment. 

Gc: A lot of artists I speak to describe the act of music creation as occuring subconsciously. Do you have the same experience?

T: Yes and no. It’s still me writing, but I can relate to this.

Gc: Your first release from the album, the aptly named The First Disciple, broke your online silence. Why did you pick this song as your reintroduction?

T: This song sits at the heart of the album… It’s also the longest song on the album (a side note, but still cool). Sonically, The First Disciple represents some new sounds I experimented with on this album. The combination of the nylon-string classical guitar with the nylon-string oud was super important to me. Lyrically, this song is also improtant to me.

Gc: Throughout the whole album your sound is far more complex than your previous work. Did this change in sound bring up any nervousness?

T: No, not really. I would have only felt nervous if I wasn't happy with the album.

Gc: That's the truly worst-case scenario.

T: But I'm super happy with the album, and stand fully behind it so I don’t have nerves.

Gc: As you should be. Before the release, you had a social media blackout — why?

T: I feel like when I'm not releasing new music, I have nothing to say. Social media is a HUGE distraction. Those apps are designed for you to become addicted. | know myself; if it's on my phone I will look at it at least three times a day. It was extremely liberating to not have Instagram on my phone for two years, it allowed me to be bored. Boredom is very important for the creative process,

which was the main reason why I didn't have it on my phone.

Gc: It’s kind of insane how today boredom has to be sought after. It’s a hard road to take.

T: It's true. You have to choose boredom, instead of just letting it happen the way it would in the past. lt's a conscious decision to not go on your phone, scroll through Instagram and so forth. We need to let things be as they are.

Gc: You're going on tour. How are you feeling about that?

T: On tour, you're everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It's not real life. However, playing live feels special. It's cliché, but I love playing for people that appreciate your music and the fact that you're sharing something with a group. Sometimes it feels like a transfer of energy. This transfer is healing.

Gc: Music certainly has healing properties. Presumable creating, performing and so forth is your safe space?

T: Performing to such a huge amount of people, you all feel open. You're all surrendering to whatever's happening in the moment. It connects to what we were saying earlier about

distractions. When performing, these distractions are not there, I'm fully in the moment. This moment is then something you can share with so many people. In this space there's room for emotion, there's room for everything to just exist. It feels both healing and freeing. It's the best high there is.

Gc: We're so excited about the launch of Sahar. What do you hope for your audience to feel from the album?

T: Honestly, whatever they want. I really have no say in that.

Gc: Do you feel a separation from your work once it’s released? Like it’s no longer yours?

T: A bit, I see the music as just as much mine as I do the listeners. Of course, I have my interpretations, thoughts, beliefs. I also have hopes for the listener's ability to read into the lyrics or hear about the songs. But in the end, | have no say.

Gc: And finally (and potentially, most importantly) what have you taken away from the album?

T: This album felt more experimental in the recording process. The arrangements really came from letting go (as opposed to being a control freak). So, I think this became a lesson. Letting things go in the creative process can lead to beautiful things. That's been the most important lesson.

[the-after-eight]

Happy New Year !

I didn't show the watercolored verison yet, it took me a few more hours. I'm hapy about how it turned out ! All these characters that I played this year did a few things that are worth detailing, although I did mention it quickly on the uncolored version.

I added their names for those who aren't familiar with them yet ! They all have a dedicated blog with info about them, other artworks and their story !

P'tit Louis' shirt is a reference to the last scenario of his campaign, and the writting in the green pin is a phrase that Paul (one of his companions) said at a very important moment and it was hilarious. The pink pin is a joke from the last scenario we played in Nephilim this year (a French pun). I will also explain why he has a gold ring. I added his fangs, a new metamorphosis he gained at the end of the campaign. @ptit-louis

Tony is very happy, he's holding a lemur's tail, a reference to Keric le Zemmur, an ennemy he killed (and probably traumatized, Keric is certainly in hell, haunted forever by the Sram's grim smile, the last vision he had in his life, and the phrase "I told you that your soul would never have peace"). He is proud ! Also, the villain's name is a pun regarding a French politician. @tony-redrum

Noria is just chilling with her pet frog, Sergent Uc!, she started Hogwards school this year and is delighted to discover that magicx is real, she has so many things to discover ! @noria-helveticus

Lorelei looks chill here, I actually created her design for this drawing, so I'm happy. She started her campaign, the Ennemi Within, and due to her cult, she must keep herself serious. But open your eyes, the short priestress of Morr holds her flail, a weapon that has already proven her skill as a warrior. @lorelei-versengold

Morrigan is just happy, she's just naturally optimistic ! He played 3 scenarios this year already, although he suffered a lot already. She has a good heart, and fighting demon isn't always easy. @morrigan-sahar

Sal'aäd is on vacation. He finally got out of a dungeon, and honestly, it didn't go well for him. Just look in his eyes... He's dead inside. He did get a souvenir from the dungeon though. @salaad-dronnoc

Adélaïde finally began her campaign with my main group... As an NPC, since I'm the DM. SHe put her deer skull down, it's a bit heavy after all ! Although she still wears other smaller skulls in her hair, weird fetish. She's summonning small bbutterfly illusions, they are quite pretty after all. @adelaide-lanshasaa

As for Captain Glucose and his sidekick... They played two one-shots, one where they acquired their new costumes for Scarlet Scarf (Oh, spoiler... Sorry), and the second one where they finally took care of a very sus dude from scenario 3, MLP (Mother Lifting Po*n... Yes, that was his nickname. You see the sus part now ?). They did well on both, although they were quite easy... Our GM is preparing a capaign for them called "No More Heores" and I'm terrifyed. @captain-glucose @captain-glucose-sidekick

[indestinatus]

what the water gave me

for @alwaysziver who only sent me love and support since the day we met and whose comments never fail to inspire me - thank you. 

*inspired by the line "You know I'll take my heart clean apart if it helps yours beat" from the song Two by Sleeping At Last. 

warning: mentions of anxiety. 

AO3 link.

°°°

The water had turned colder than how she felt, and that really meant something.

Ziva watched her hair floating all around her, the fluidity of the movement slowing down her breathing to a numbing pattern. She felt everything out of focus, her puffy eyes making her vision too blurry to distinguish the tears already hidden amongst the cold filled bathtub. Her arms wrapped her knees as if in an attempt to contain how heavy her heart felt, how opaque, just like the gray water embracing her.

There certainly were days when the air was light. When the walls around her were comforting, not confining. When laughter reigned and she forgot what sadness felt like, for days, weeks even. There were times not even she could believe reality had been so kind to her, to had given her a second chance to live again.

But there were also days when the shadows were too present for her to ignore. The past was too bold, too strong.

The strangest things can conjure up the past.

This time it was the water.

There were two times in her life when water had practically saved her.

One had been the first shower she had taken after returning from Somalia, a lifetime ago. The water had cleaned the dirt from her skin, along with the mud from her heart. She will forever remember how blinding it was. To feel the sharp drops of water in her face again.

How raw. How freeing.

She had embraced death as a friend for months then, for what had felt like years, only to be reborn with the taste of cold water in her tongue, of salty tears and blessed laughter. Life had given her a chance of standing up again, even with a dozen new more figures now invariant shadows in the back of her mind. That water had saved her, but it also had made her sharper.

The water had given her another layer of armor for her to bear.

The second time it had been after she stopped running. After Sahar was finally gone and there was only the future to think about, only the thrill of happiness being finally in her reach. She never believed that she would experience that feeling again, of relief hugging her from the inside.

But then water washed away the past for her one more time and gave her yet another chance. Of seeing her family, of being with her family. Of having a family, perhaps for the first time in her life.

The water had taken away the heavy layer of armor she had worn all those years.

But now the water felt cold.

The longer she stayed in the bathtub, the further her mind dug into the past. What was supposed to be a common day, a relaxing shower, had turned into something deeper, into memories running loose through the cracks of her shield. Suddenly everything was made of shadows.

The water had brought everything to the surface, even if it was as still as her heart.

Anxiety makes any silence so loud.

Ziva stayed inside the bath, her fingertips already numb and her mind screaming things she wished she could've been forgotten. Her chest felt too tight, her body too small. Black clouded her vision and stung in her tongue.

Everything was darkness, cold engulfed her and was pulling her even closer. A storm of cloudy thoughts overlapped, creating a hurricane in her mind.

All she felt was black.

Then the sound of his breathing hit her ears.

And the world reappeared again.

°°°

Tony had been calling her name more times than he could count.

He knocked on the door to ask her what she wanted for dinner, but received only silence in return. And when it came to Ziva, silence could mean a lot of things.

And his gut somehow knew what this particular silence meant. It was the deafening kind.

Her name once again left his lips in a sharp intake of breath when he saw her in the bathtub, head rested in her forearms and body clearly shivering from the cold. She looked unbelievably small with all the gray water surrounding her, and fear instantly invaded his thoughts.

"Ziva," his muffled voice came into view the same time steady hands held her shoulders. She winced.

Tony squatted down to her level, wide eyes searching hers. Ziva knew him too well to avert his gaze, but she also knew he would see right through her. That was why she always hid these things from him.

He finally made her look at him, the truth slipping through the corner of her red eyes.

Sometimes armors fall apart.

Ziva saw his look soften almost imperceptibly. He nodded, a hand squeezing her shoulder. He watched her for a while. She was surprised that there was no pity. No, it was something else.

Understatement.

Tony said nothing as he stood up and took the drain out of the bathtub. Ziva stopped looking at him to stare at the water, slowly disappearing from view.

Washing away her memories, taking them with it.

Then she suddenly noticed she was shivering.

He must have noticed it as well, because she instantly felt a towel being wrapped around her shoulders.

But even with that, Ziva couldn't move. It was as if any fraction of movement would shatter everything, like her shield was now made of glass. Everything felt numb.

Again, Tony didn't utter a word as his arm circled the inside of her legs and the other supported her shoulders into his arms. Soon her face was at the crook of his neck and his scent invaded her senses, the smell of home making her feel even more fragile.

Once Ziva opened her eyes, she noticed the pool of water forming on his shoulder. She didn't notice she was crying, she-

"Don't. I will wet your clothes," she said almost in a whisper.

Is this what being vulnerable feels like?

"I couldn't care less about them right now."

He cradled her closer, putting her in his lap as they sat on the edge of the bed. Ziva noticed her hand was touching the back of his short hair, as if trying to grasp what was real.

She made him look at her.

"How?" said Ziva.

Tony only waited, studying her eyes they way he usually did when he wanted to see beyond her walls.

"How," she repeated, her throat closing. "How could you forgive me from losing so much time? Tony, I-"

Tony closed his eyes, purposedly ending the connection they had. He shook his head, inhaling.

"Ziva, I know you. I know you better than you know yourself," he opened them, and the honesty was so brutal it almost made Ziva flinch. "And I don't want to talk about myself right now."

He studied her, waiting for what she knew was him asking permission to let him in. To let herself go.

Tony nestled her better in his arms, a hand taking out the wet hair from her face.

"Tell me where it hurts," he said.

And something in Ziva snapped.

No one had ever asked her that. People always asked if she was fine, but that never and would never help in anything. It was the same as asking a soldier how the war had been.

He asked as if he knew. He already knew there was pain, he needed no confirmation.

He just needed to tear it down.

Tears were already flowing freely as sobs started to shake her body more than the cold. And with that, Ziva let go, her walls breaking down as she found rest on the crook of his neck.

"Try to breathe," he said in her hair.

And between sharp intakes of breath, she tried, as he continued to rock her in his arms.

"I am so tired of being afraid."

"You don't have to anymore."

"But-"

"Ziva. You are safe. I-" Tony kissed her hair as her crying subsided to calming sobs, pulling everything into focus. "I am here. You're not alone. You don't need to... I'll keep you safe. I will keep you safe."

Ziva nodded in his neck, trying to breathe as tears continued to silently trail her cheeks.

"You did enough," his hand caressed her back up and down, his cheek resting on hers as soft kisses were placed in her temple.

His breathing in her ear was incredibly soothing, his arms creating the shield she thought it had shattered.

"You are enough. You're more than enough."

And with those words, Ziva David was saved.

°°°

Half an hour later, she could smell dinner being prepared, the scent coming from the kitchen incensing the whole house. There was something comforting in the familiarity of it.

Ziva inhaled deeply, tucking her hair behind her ears as she nodded to the mirror.

It cast a small smile back to her. She huffed.

It was time again.

To start over.

She found Tony behind the counter, his back to her as he pointed inside the oven and muttered something to Tali squatting down at his side. Giggles followed, and he grinned wide enough for Tali to mimic him without thinking.

Ziva smiled softly. The flutter inside her chest gave her a reassurance she didn't know she needed.

She made sure to make some noise as she pulled the chair out of the dinner table. She didn't want Tali to notice her swollen eyes, so she fixed them on the little cracks of the wooden table instead.

"She asked for pizza. Is it okay?"

Ziva somehow knew his words meant so much more than what he had said. It had always been their game, for more than a decade.

"Yes," she replied, nodding while she felt his eyes on her. "Yes, I believe it is okay."

"Okay."

A pause followed, to what she felt was an eternity, but she continued to scrap the wooden table wondering if she had left those marks or if it was someone else.

"Tali," said Tony. "Why don't you show your mother what you did? I think she would love to see it."

Ziva turned to him at that, finding an amused smile on his face.

Are you up for the challenge? it said.

Ziva huffed in return, and they shared a look between them.

As I will ever be.

Tali came running into view, putting a drawing in front of her. She watched her face waiting for a reaction, but Ziva only asked for her to sit on her lap and explain it to her.

"This is me," said Tali, pointing to the figure in the middle of it, covered in glitter and flowers all over her dress. If she hadn’t mentioned it, Ziva doubted she would have found that out, she laughed.

"This is Abba," a taller figure was standing right next to her, holding her hand. There was a bright yellow pizza in his other hand.

"And this is you!"

Ziva was holding her other hand, and above her head, there were a dozen of little hearts.

"Why am I orange?"

"Because you're happy," said Tali as a matter-of-factly. "And being happy makes you warm, so I had to put it this way, obviously."

"Obviously."

Ziva chuckled, looking at Tony. He only shrugged, telling her he had nothing to do with it.

"And who's that?"

"That's Max."

"Max?" asked Ziva.

"The unicorn," Tony replied.

"Ah, of course. Sorry, I had not seen the... The..."

"The mane."

"Yes, thank you," Ziva said. He was already laughing. "The mane. With all this glitter and color. Is he happy too? Max?"

"He is happiness."

There are some weird things children say that makes you question your whole existence. Ziva only nodded slowly, suspecting Tali understood something that was way beyond her.

Then she realized she didn't feel sad anymore.

"Dinner's ready!" said Tony as a ding on the clock showed him it was time to take it out of the oven. Tali jumped from Ziva's lap to run to his side, excitement filling her features as Tony put on his gloves.

"One very tasty margherita slice for a very very beautiful princess," he said as he handed Tali a plate.

"And one very delicious pepperoni slice for a very very special agent."

"I am not an agent anymore," huffed Ziva.

Tony chuckled, handing her the plate as he sat down in front of her.

"Oh, bella, once a probie always a probie. You know the rule."

Ziva narrowed her eyes and he raised his chin in return, his eyes conveying another hidden message, like he always did with her.

This is real. It was all real. This is the real you, the one I love and the one I respect. Deny all you want, but I will pull you back to it. It was all real.

Ziva must have shown him she understood, because in a moment there was a wink and in another, he was already asking Tali what she liked about the pizza.

And for the tenth time that day, she got a glimpse of things hidden beyond the normal eye could see.

She had learned for a while now happiness wasn't a goal exactly, but rather a sum of joyful moments. Moments like these, that meant so much more than any celebration. It meant life continued, whether she liked it or not, but it was her choice to see the happiness behind it. It wasn't a constant nor a state, it was rather fluid.

The thought made her smile.

It was just like water.

[ibn-sunni]

بســـم اللــه الرحــمــن الـرحـــيــم

◾️ *I encourage my brothers not to be negligent in standing the last ten nights of Ramadhān*◾️

By our Shaykh, the 'Allāmah, the Trustworthy Advisor, Abu 'Abdirrahman Yahya bin 'Ali Al-Hajūri - may Allāh preserve him -

⤵️

🔸▪️🔸▪️🔸▪️🔸▪️🔸▪️🔸▪️🔸

For this reason we encourage our brothers not to become negligent in standing the last ten nights of Ramadhān, do not become busied from standing the last ten nights with anything.

From where will you receive *80yrs* or more than *80yrs*? How long will your age reach? It is only one night O my brother!

It is ten nights, some of them go with playing football in any place, things go in a short period of time.

Dedicate yourself for these ten, and arrange your affairs before it, and dedicate to it, and if you are able to do i'tikāf of it, so long as there is nothing obligatory or of importance preventing you, i'tikāf is recommended and there is that which is more important than it, and even if you don't do i'tikāf of the day and you only do the night it is allowed, from whence you are in the masjid at the time of the setting of the sun, stay in the masjid until Fajr and then pray Fajr and a full night has ended and you did i'tikāf of one night.

Umar made an oath to do i'tikāf for one night so the Prophet ﷺ permitted him to do I'tikāf which is legislated in Ramadhān and other than it.

Whether it be on the full ten or the nights only or even if he did I'tikāf of a night or at any time of the year there is nothing preventing this, the least is that you do I'tikāf of the odd nights.

Except that these odd days O my brothers are not accurate in most cases, perhaps you may not know they will say the month was deficient, the month was extra, in the case the odd nights could of been the even nights and the even nights the odd, it depends.

Therefore seek aid in Allāh in the full ten and dedicate to it, increase in supplication to Allāh ﷻ with success, we ask Allāh for success, and increase in taking care, reduce the food intake because food causes sleep, not the reduction that causes emaciation.

But plenty of food and drink and those who eat a lot need to drink a lot, and those who drink a lot need to sleep a lot, and the time is gone.

The Prophet ﷺ used to strive in the ten what he didn't used to in other than it in Ramadhān

Until if the ten entered he used to be serious and tie his waist wrap tight and awake his family and bring life to the night, the whole night he wouldn't sleep in it, as for before the ten he used to vary between sleep and staying awake. He used to awake his family and attempt to make the whole night pass while they are in remembrance.

And I bring attention to an affair and it is after finishing standing, spare time occurs through hours, draw nearer to Allāh or most of these hours busy with remembrance and supplication, the time still remains extremely blessed, what is called Sahar (time before day break) in these days and in other than it use it for rememberance and supplication and seeking forgiveness.

Ibn Umar may Allāh be pleased with him used to pray part of the night, then say O Nāfi' look and see if it is Sahar (time before day break), then he would say yes, meaning that the false Fajr which is in this time or before that within the limit of an hour or less than that, this is called Sahar, so you can stand or engage in supplicating, seeking forgiveness, and this is established from him, if the time of Sahar came he would engage in supplication. This was relayed by Ibn Kathīr may Allāh have mercy on him and other than him and it is taking from the statement of Allāh ﷻ:

{كَانُوا قَلِيلًا مِّنَ اللَّيْلِ مَا يَهْجَعُونَ ۝ وَبِالْأَسْحَارِ هُمْ يَسْتَغْفِرُونَ}

✨ *"They used to sleep but little by night [invoking their Lord (Allah) and praying, with fear and hope]. And in the hours before dawn, they were (found) asking (Allah) for forgiveness."*

Al-Ashār meaning the time of Sahar.

_

Transcribed to Arabic and summarised by:

Hamūd Ath-Thawābi

- may Allah reward him with good -on the 10th, Ramadhān, 1440H

*Translated by:*

Abu 'Abdillah 'Omar bin Yahya Al-'Akawi

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[gingerstorm101]

Healing

“I got a GPS signal, Headly and Bruins are at Tom’s Junkyard.” Kasie says over the phone hastily. Gibbs thanks her and McGee hangs up the phone as Gibbs speeds up.

“What is the plan Gibbs?” Ziva asks, leaning forward in the middle seat so her head was between the boss and senior field agent.

Gibbs is quiet as he thinks of a plan, it wasn’t until Torres’ “Boss?” comment that he finally says something.

“Bishop and I will go around to the west, McGee and Torres will go around to the east. I trust that if you go by yourself, you can take the south without getting caught?”

Ziva scoffs. “Oh please, you know me better than that.”

McGee is about to say something when his boss cuts him off. “Just don’t get yourself captured Ziver.” No one notices the pain in his eyes, but she knew it was there.

***

“They’re still there.” Kasie says with an update 30 minutes later. The team gathers around the trunk to pull on their bullet proof vests when Ellie notices a problem.

“Gibbs, there’s only four vests in here, one of us is going to be without protection.” Gibbs sighs, handing his vest over to Ziva.

“Here, take it.”

Ziva gives him a questioning look. “No Gibbs, keep it. I have worked without one for years and not been killed. I will be fine. You need it more than I do.”

The team stares at the confrontation between the father and daughter, but they choose not to say anything.

“Please Gibbs.” Ziva asks one last time, pushing the vest into his chest. “I can’t lose you too.”

He gives her a look, one that screams that she better be careful with herself. One that says he can’t lose her again. Neither one loses eye contact with the other, each vowing that they will not die today. And with that, everyone gets ready.

When Gibbs makes the signal, the team leaves the car, drawing their guns, and splitting up.

Ziva ducks down low and makes her way to the back of the yard. She sees the two men they are looking for, along with three other men with them. This was the team that’s been tracking her down ever since she got onto American soil again, trying to out her to her enemies that could decide to go after her. It was time she was going to end them so she could be free. So her value to them would be useless.

Into the earwig, she tells the team, “I count five of them.”

“Expect them to be carrying.” Gibbs’ voice says over the ear piece.

Taking one last look, not spotting any more, she slowly makes her way to the back. She only has to sit with her gun drawn for a moment when she heard Gibbs shout from the other side of the clearing. “NCIS, put your hands up!” On cue, Ziva charges towards the clearing, her gun trained on the largest man of the bunch.

One of the men spots her and starts yelling. “It’s her! She’s here!” Ziva instantly aims her gun at him and the man pulls out his own gun, but before he has a chance to shoot, she double taps his heart. Before the body hits the floor, the four men pull out their guns.

The fire fight starts.

She swerves through the commotion, just missing each of the outsourced surveillance team for the splinter terrorist group. These were the last of the people who could give away her location, who would sell her out to any group in the world. This was it. This was the end of any connection to Sahar, even after months of her being dead. Ziva can finally live her life again.

A shot goes off to her left and she feels sudden burning but ignores it. She turns to where the sound came from, spotting a young man hidden behind some old tires. She aims and gives off one shot, shooting him between the eyes, killing him.

Behind her, a man charges, his hands covered in blood. “ZIVA!” Ellie shouts, firing her gun at the large man. She spins on her heels till her gun was trained on his chest. He continues to charge for her, not slowing with each bullet digging into his back. Shocked that he’s not faltering, she hesitates. It takes her a blink of an eye to bring her back to the moment, with only a meter in front of her, she shoots him in the chest and he finally falls. Only, he lands on top of her. Ziva yells out, dropping her gun beside her, staring into the cold dead eyes of the large henchman.

“ZIVA!” Gibbs yells to her once the gun shots stop. She turns her head, her vision blurring, to see Gibbs and McGee running to her. She pushes the man off her body, grunting as the burning in her stomach intensifies. “Ziva!” He yells again, helping to pull the body off of her. She takes a large gasp of air as she gets free.

Together, the two agents help her to her feet, wavering she leans on McGee for support. “Are you okay?” He asks. She nods, glancing over at the body behind her.

Gibbs cups her cheek, looking down at her bloody clothes. “Is this all his blood?”

She nods again, glancing over at Ellie and Torres, both whom were walking her way with their guns in their holsters. “Yes, Gibbs.” She confirms even though she has a strong sense that she was going to throw up any second now. She gulps down that feeling, placing her hand on her stomach, and winces in pain.

McGee looks down at her when she flinches, watching her hand as she pulls it back. “There can’t be that much fresh blood of his on you.” He says, but she can hardly hear him. He was faint, Gibbs’ face in front of her was becoming harder to see.

She barely makes out the words “I made a mistake” before she falls unconscious into McGee’s arms.

***

She throws herself into a sitting position with a gasp, finally able to breathe again, and thankfully, the burning pain was gone. She looks around her, no longer was she in the clearing at the junkyard, but she was at her childhood bedroom. The same one Tony met her in over six years before.

“Ziva, ahuvati, aren't you going to come out and say hello?”

Ziva’s heart stops at the voice. One she hasn’t heard in nearly two decades. “Ima?” Slowly she lifts herself from the bed and makes her way to the door of her childhood bedroom. She peeks into the living room, her eyes widen at the sight. Before her was her mother, years younger than when she last saw her, kneeling before a three year old Ziva with a bundle in her arms.

The young girl looks down at the tiny white blanket, curiosity in her eyes. “Ima, who is it?”

Her mother laughs softly. “Oh ahuvati, this is Ima’s baby.”

“From Ima’s tummy?”

“Ken ahuvati.” She tells the young one. “Her name is Tali, and she is your baby sister.”

Stepping closer, Ziva watches her younger self play a hand on the baby’s clothed head. “Tali…”

“Can you make me a promise, Ziva?” Rivka asks her daughter.

“Ken Ima.”

“Promise me that you’ll protect your sister, you’ll protect Tali, for as long as you can?”

“Ken Ima,I will protect Tali forever and ever.”

Ziva watches from her bedroom, her heart beating rapidly from her hiding spot.

“Breaks your heart, doesn’t it, sister?”

Ziva reaches from her gun, only to find she doesn’t have it, and turns around to find the last person she was expecting to see. “Tali?” The teenager smiles at her from her bed, her legs crossed up on the covers. “Wha- what are you doing here?”

Her little sister smiles at her, rocking back and forth. “Why I have come to see you, of course!” Ziva looks her sister over, the innocent little girl she was before she died was present on her face. No cuts, no gashes, no lifeless eyes. It was the sister she remembers, the Tali she loves.

“Am… Am I dead?” She gulps, looking over her shoulder to find her mother has disappeared.

Tali doesn’t answer her question, instead she unfolds her legs and walks over to her, her eyes soften. “You grew up, dear Ziva.” Ziva lifts her hand to reach for her face, but hesitates. The young girl takes a step forward, lifting Ziva’s hand with her own, and places it on her cheek. “I’m here.” She whispers. “I’m really here.”

“I miss you, every day.”

She smiles, looking up into her eyes. “I have been watching over you, saw your accomplishments, your angst, your happiness. Your daughter. In which, I got to say, quite honoured to have my name carried on.”

“You do not mind?” She whispers, feeling her throat starting to catch.

Tali places her hand on her sister’s cheek, stroking it. “Not at all.” Ziva presses her head to her sister’s, missing this closeness that the two of them shared, the secrets they never kept from one another. “I have watched Tali her whole life. She is happy with her Abba, but she still misses her Ima.” Suddenly Tali lets out a laugh, shaking her head. “I still cannot believe you are an Ima!” Ziva feels her eyes start to well up. “Last time I saw you, you were getting ready to go on a mission for our own Abba.”

The tear runs down her cheek. “I lost you that day. Our father still wanted to see if I could go undercover. Instead…” Ziva’s eyes harden at the memory. “Instead I went after the people who murdered you. I vowed to avenge your death. As I vow I will protect my daughter.”

“And you have.” Tali whispers, wiping away the tears. “You have protected your daughter from the harms of evil.”

“But I have failed.” Fresh tears well up in Ziva’s eyes. “I have died. I will never see my daughter again.”

‘Ima!’

“No you have not, dear Ziva.”

“Ima!”

“Tali?”

Her sister takes her hand into hers, holding it up to her chest. “Mazal tov laakhoto hayeqarah.”

“Ima!”

“Tali!” Ziva says with a gasp.

The grasp of Tali’s hand on hers, she holds on tight. “Ziva?” Suddenly she’s aware of where she was. No longer was she in her childhood bedroom with her baby sister. But she was in a hospital room. She looks over to the one beside her, staring deep into green eyes. Her mouth moves to say something, but suddenly it’s too dry. “You’re awake.”

Her eyes wide, she watches as he brings her hand to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. Finally, she's able to get a single word out.

“Tony?”

He smiles. “It’s good to see you.” She looks him over, noticing how much he’s aged in the years they’ve been apart. Watching her family from a distance keeps her from noticing small details as such.

She works on wetting her mouth, glancing over to see a glass of water beside him. Without saying a word, he parts a hand from hers and gives it to her, letting her drink it through the straw.

“Tony, what are you doing here?” She whispers weakly.

He touches her cheek with one hand and holds her hand against his cheek with the other. “I guess I couldn’t live without you.” His words echo in her mind, taking her back to that unforgettable day all those years ago. “I didn’t think you were dead. I had that feeling, not to mention the clues. I never saw you, but I never gave up hope.”

Ziva raises her fingers, brushing her fingers against his lips. “Tony, I am sorry. I-I-“

“I should be angry with you. I want to yell at you, ask you how you could keep my own daughter from me. But seeing now, knowing that you have been kept from your own daughter. Our daughter. I couldn’t yell at you for that. We’ve both been kept apart from her, and from each other.”

“Tony…” She feels the tears well up in his eyes. “I am so sorry.”

He opens his mouth to say something when the door opens to the private room. Breaking eye contact, the two look over to the nurse that walks into the room. “Ms. David, it’s good to see you awake dear.” Tony drops her hand on the bed and takes a step back to let the nurse see to his friend.

The nurse closes the curtain and checks all her vitals before pulling her blanket back. Tony takes the queue. “I, I’ll just step out…” He says, pointing to the doorway. Neither one say a thing as he leaves the room.

Still drugged, Ziva watches him leave before her eyes were averted to the nurse as she lifts her gown, only to show the bandage on her stomach where she was shot. “You were very lucky Ms. David, the doctors were able to stitch you up nice and good.”

“I should have been quicker.” Ziva mumbles, looking down at the bloody bandage. The nurse works on placing a fresh one on, cleaning her up. “I could have lost everything today because of it.”

“But you were not alone, Miss. You had someone looking out for you.”

Ziva catches her eye. “I did.”

The nurse leaves a few minutes later and Tony walks in. “I talked to the boss, he agreed to let us talk. A real talk, Ziva.” He walks over and sits at her hip, careful to not pull on the sheets covering her stomach.

“Where is Tali?” Ziva asks after many moments of silence.

Tony smirks. “I was wondering when that question was going to come up. She’s with Palmer and Victoria. Our girls are about the same age, so whenever we come to DC, the girls have a sleepover.” Ziva’s heart swells. “Do you want to see a picture of her?” She opens her mouth to say something, but second guesses herself and closes her mouth and nods.

She didn’t expect him to have the photos open so quickly, she would even suspect that he already had them open, ready to show her.

“Here.” He says softly, holding the phone up to her. Before her eyes was her not-so-little girl. Her throat hitched when she saw her outfit. “I put her into ballet when she was showing interest in dancing.” He let out a short laugh. “She would take me to the piano and just say ‘muziqah’, so I’d just… play whatever song came to mind. Tali would just sing and dance.” He looks down at the picture. “I thought of you, and what you wanted to do before your training… So I did it, I put her in classes.” He turns her head to look at her. “And she loves every minute of it. This photo was taken after her first recital.”

Ziva smiles up at him. “You are a wonderful father, Tony.”

“Half the time I don’t know what I’m doing. I just go with the flow and try not to do what my own father did.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a worn piece of paper that has some dried blood on it. “Gibbs’ pulled this out of your pocket before the ambulance arrived at the scene. I noticed someone in the background.” He gave her the look. “You couldn’t keep away.”

“No I couldn’t. I have thousands of these photos. All of them with you and Tali in the background in Paris.”

“Why didn’t you say ‘hi’?”

“I was being watched… Hunted. I couldn’t put your life into jeopardy. I kept you in the dark, and I didn’t want to hurt Tali’s feeling all over again by leaving. It was hard enough the first time.”

“They are gone now.”

She reaches out for him, taking forearm in her grasp. “Yes they are.”

“And?”

“And I can come home… If you’ll have me?”

He leans forward, placing his hand on her cheek, stroking her lips. She raises her hand from his arm and places it on his chest. He rests his forehead on hers and whispers. “Do you promise you’re done running?” She closes her eyes, raising her hand to his cheek.

“Yes.”

“Then, please, come home with me.”

[aerisdraws]

Under the snow moon

Big thank you to my guild Mistspread [FOOLS] for hosting a wonderful full moon tarot night guild event. Special thank you to @lesbiancharr​ for being an excellent photographer and the card reader! Thanks to all those who read this story and provided feedback. 

The wind howled outside the mouth of the cave, occasionally triggering an eerie hum that echoed through the tunnel. Snowflakes swirled at a breakneck pace — the blizzard was picking up, and it was going to be a long night.

Solvi prowled along the cold rocky walls, her footsteps soundlessly landing in Sahar’s, the snow leopard that preceded her. Sahar’s spotted silver coat blended almost seamlessly with the surroundings as the feline cautiously stepped forward. There were ice imps in this cave, and while they were only a minor threat, they remained a nuisance. Best to avoid them, particularly as they attacked in swarms. Together they quietly traced the outline of the underground system.

The pair had initially entered the cave seeking shelter, but as they wandered deeper, the soft sound of voices bounced off the walls. Solvi could make out both male and female voices, so it couldn’t be Svanir, and they lacked the rich timbre of Kodan. As they snuck closer to the source, it sounded like... a party?

Solvi rounded the corner, bow in hand with a notched arrow, ready to get the drop on hostiles. Sahar crouched low, bracing to pounce. A large room came into view, carved into the belly of the mountain, and the occupants were revealed. 

To say it was a party was an overstatement, but it was a merry band of... she couldn’t quite tell. There were many sylvari — surely they’d freeze in this arctic weather? — and a handful of humans, as well as a number of charr. The last were not a big surprise, considering the proximity of the charr tribelands to norn territory, but these didn’t look like legion soldiers. 

“Relax,” she whispered to Sahar. Solvi stowed her bow. These people were unlikely to pick a fight, and they’d likely be more inclined to share the warmth of their fire with her if she approached them in a friendly manner. She considered removing her mask, but decided that she’d rather not run the risk of being recognised. Not everyone was a friend.

Now that she was out of the blizzard and had a chance to warm up, the snow that peppered her hair and clothing started to melt. Her skin seemed to steam in the glowing light of the fire — a sight not uncommon with norn, nature’s most efficient furnaces. She waved at the group as she approached them. Most were in animated, enthusiastic conversation. Another, more broody type, sat in the corner of the room. Solvi caught a few words. Something about murder, killing and the Pit... None of my business. Perhaps she’d approach the cheerier group first. 

As soon as she made it within the circle of strangers, a peculiar-looking pink-clad charr padded her way towards the red haired huntress. The chard’s soft white muzzle filled Solvi’s field of vision, sniffing the giantess’s person. 

“You have a strange energy! Would you like me to do a reading for you?” the white charr asked. 

Solvi looked at them with a quizzical expression. “A... reading?” Strange gathering indeed. 

The stranger nodded. “With my cards. You’re norn, aren’t you? Do you follow a Spirit?”

“I do,” the huntress replied. She glanced at Sahar, who had begun to pace around the charr, picking up her scent. Solvi’s green eyes darted back to the stranger. “My chosen totem is Wolf. He guides me when I need it most.” The crackling fire flickered for an instant, the silhouettes of the cave’s occupants dancing against the rock face.

The charr nodded knowingly, their friendly demeanour slowly putting Solvi at ease. “My cards offer guidance too – except that instead of calling to a Spirit, they use magic. Sit down, make yourself comfortable,” said the feline, waving to the warmth of the fire. “Do you have a question you would like answered?”

Solvi stepped forward and settled herself down beside the kind stranger. Sahar did not need to be told to relax, as soon as her companion had sat down the snow leopard curled up beside her, muzzle towards the flames. Solvi knew that Sahar was keeping a keen eye and ear on the crowd, despite her restful appearance. Comfortable and steadily warming up, Solvi took a moment to ponder. She had many questions, though most, she knew, could not be answered – yet. Her duties as commander had led her to making many grey decisions, of which their integrity was ambiguous. What did the ranger want to know? What could these cards answer? Could Trahearne have survived? What would he have done? No, there’s no use in torturing yourself over that again… and there’s no point in wondering if this struggle against the dragons will ever end. Surely there was something she could think of that didn’t awaken feelings of frustration. She wanted to know about something close to her heart, something almost forgotten. Solvi’s eyes twinkled as the question surfaced from the depths of her memory, a wisp of hope, loss, and love. She looked to the charr.

“There is something that weighs on my mind. A long time ago, I… I lost my pack.” Solvi furrowed her brow, trying to remember. She was so young when her parents had left her and her brother in Hoelbrak. The details were lost, like the horizon in a snowstorm. “I would like to know… if it is still worth looking for them, and if your cards can show me where to go.” She suppressed the urge to shift uncomfortably. It’s only memories. They won’t hurt you.

The question was asked. The charr revealed a deck of cards in their paw, padded digits gently grasping it. “I’ll shuffle the cards now. While I do it, focus on sending your energy towards me. When the cards are ready, I will draw them for you.” Solvi nodded, locks of red hair falling from her braid and sticking to her face as the snow melted. She closed her eyes, bringing her mind to stillness. Soon she felt the soft hum of energy that connected her to her snow leopard, but rather than following that thread, she searched for another. On her journey to become a soulbeast she’d learned that all things were connected, living and dead. Solvi found another hum, a different frequency that felt like the charr beside her. The norn focused on that lead, and tried to convey her emotions across the energy. Feelings of confusion, grief, and unshaken but dwindling hope. In her mind’s eye she saw herself, young and small and vulnerable, clawing in rage at the Wolf shaman that delivered her the news. The body of a child was too small to contain such enormous emotions, and even now as a fully grown norn, Solvi could barely fit the grief back into the small box she’d hidden away deep in her soul.

Inhale, exhale. The cards were drawn, sharp claws handling them with the delicacy of a feather. Ace of cups, seven of cups reversed, knight of cups. What they showed meant nothing to Solvi, but it only took the space of two breaths for the charr to understand.

Solvi’s interrogator cocked her head to the side curiously. Solvi noticed her four ears pricking as the charr interpreted the cards. “Could you tell me some more about your pack?” she asked, whiskers twitching. “How many were there, why did they go?”

“There were three in my pack, but only two were lost.” Solvi thought of her brother, with whom she had not spoken in… Spirits, it’s been many winters. Though Wolf taught her pack was her brothers and sisters, she could not help but feel guilt for the way she’d left things with her true brother. “I was only a pup when they left. It was for…” How do I explain that they left to forge their legend? “… work. They sailed south, and vanished. The trip was meant take only a few months, but when a year passed I was told the ship on which they sailed was… lost at sea.” Solvi was thankful for the mask that covered her face from the nose down. Though it could not hide the storm in her eyes, it did hide her clenched jaw. She swallowed the waves of emotion that threatened to burst her cool façade. It felt odd, talking to a stranger about something so personal. Perhaps that’s what made it easier: there was no judgement. The thoughts of an unknown person weighed less than the thoughts of people she cared about. The edge in her voice softened. “Over the years they’ve found some signs of it. Bits and pieces washing up on the shore, but no crew made it back.”

“Oh! The cups is a more clarified suit with that in mind…” pink eyes peered over each picture, seemingly unfazed by the tragic nature of the story. “The ace of cups, a crow looks into a cup overflowing with water – in the background, a crow holding a sun falls down. The aces are usually almost divine gifts: great potentials and opportunities.” The charr pondered, claw gently tapping the second card. “The seven of cups reversed. Upside down it’s the image of a crow surrounded by cups of different things, some good, some bad. She’s lost – shrouded and stuck in opportunity.” The claw traced the outline of the final card. “And then the knight of cups. He has mastered flying alongside a white horse as they journey along.”

The pair exchanged a glance. “So I think, overall what these cards are saying is… the seven of cups is clearly your crew, right? They must be adrift somewhere – trapped or lost or maybe even scattered.” The charr hummed. “It’s reversed, so they are kind of trapped by a ring of possibilities… mist world waters. It’s not an issue of having a way out, it’s… finding the right one for them.” Solvi saw the picture drawn by the reader in her mind: her parents, caught somewhere in-between worlds, the ship surrounded by fog. The reading continued. “You also have the ace of cups, which is overflowing with potential. I think this is you and your goals. The crow falling with the sun in the background symbolises the falling of your pack. You’re looking into the cup back on them and trying to find them in the waters.”

Obscure inner truths were revealed, knowledge untapped now bathed in light. While the answer remained elusive, Solvi saw new ideas in the charr’s words. What stood out to her the most was the presence of this black bird in each card. She reached a gloved finger and pointed at the corvid. “This looks like Raven. He encourages thinking out of the box, and this is certainly an unusual method. Maybe Raven has some guidance for me, and I’ve simply been asking the wrong questions.”

A smile drew its way along the stranger’s muzzle. “Maybe you should go as the crow flies,” they said with humour.

Solvi laughed, enchanted by these cards and their reader. “You’re clever and wise. Thank you for this reading. May the Spirits guide your hand when you next seek the counsel of the cards. What is your name?”

The charr seemed surprised. “Vetrius, uh…” they paused for a moment and glanced at the cards. “Pathreader.” Vetrius smiled. “I am sure our paths will cross again.”

Solvi returned the smile, though it was hidden under the mask. “I have no doubt it will, Vetrius Pathreader. Come, Sahar” she said, and the snow leopard came to its feet, stretching its spine. Solvi rose, her own legs feeling stiff from sitting on the cold floor for what felt like hours. Most of the eclectic group of people had left. The blizzard must have blown itself out. The norn brought two fingertips to her left cheekbone, touching the green tattoo just under her eye, and then turned her hand for her palm to face Vet. Her own way of saying ‘I see you’. “Thank you, again. Take care in this snow.”

With that, Sahar took the lead once more, guiding the pair out of the depths of the mountain. The wind had settled, and the night had cleared to reveal the full moon casting her silver light across the snowy ranges.

[bohemehqs]

✳︎ ˙ ∙  time to pop some champagne — you’ve just been signed DORIT ROMY & SASKIA !step into my office & we’ll talk details. you have 24 hours to look over your contractbefore our offer expires.  ╱ DANIELLE CAMPBELL SAHAR LUNA & DOVE CAMERON.

✳︎ ˙ ∙ ( DANIELLE CAMPBELL ) retrieving data on DORIT RUNA ST. MARTIN … they’re a FINE ARTIST / CHILDREN’S BOOK ILLUSTRATOR  in the ( TALENT ) division & have been since JUNE 2018. they left UPPER EAST SIDE, NEW YORK behind for this bc ( children’s books stopped her from feeling isolated due to her crippling shyness & hearing loss ).they identify as cis-female + demisexual, go by SHE HER, & turned twenty-one last february 19th. i heard they have a bit of a SELF-DEPRECIATING + NIAVE streak, but they can be really UNCOMMONLY KIND + INQUISITIVE. you’ll often find them ( knitting octopuses ) or at ( central park ) when they aren’t working. their WORK THAT WATERCOLOR playlist is their go-to, probably bc of south london forever by florence + the machine. BUZZ! hey, look, they just tweeted: “clouds are like people. everyone sees something different looking at them.“

[ angelina, she/her, est. ]

✳︎ ˙ ∙ ( SAHAR LUNA ) retrieving data on ROMY REID … they’re a MODEL in the ( TALENT ) division & have been since 2018. they left ASPEN, COLORADO behind for this bc ( she wanted to follow in her mother’s footsteps ).they identify as cisfemale + bisexual, go by SHE/HER, & turned 20 last may 27th. i heard they have a bit of a ABRASIVE + FLIGHTY streak, but they can be really ALLURING + INDEPENDENT. you’ll often find them ( writing ) or at ( ANY COMEDY CLUB ) when they aren’t working. their SHE DO BE VIBING THO playlist is their go-to, probably bc of lucky by choker. BUZZ! hey, look, they just tweeted: “really want a baby cow…. please…“

[ angel, she/her, cst ]

✳︎ ˙ ∙ ( DOVE CAMERON ) retrieving data on SASKIA HARP … they’re a SOLO ARTIST ( TALENT ) division & have been since 3 years they joined. they left SEATTLE behind for this bc ( she wanted to get away from her toxic family  ).they identify as cisfemale + bisexual, go by SHE/HER, & turned 24 last january . i heard they have a bit of a SENSITIVE + JEALOUS streak, but they can be really HARDWORKING + DEDICATED. you’ll often find them ( writing and drawing ) or at ( THE ALICE IN WONDERLAND STATUE, CENTRAL PARK ) when they aren’t working. their WITCHY playlist is their go-to, probably bc of medusa by kailee morgue. BUZZ! hey, look, they just tweeted: “soul searching on a rainy day ttyl.“

[ Tasha, she/her, gmt ]