#pink nour

[piinknour]

[strathshepard]

Nour Rizk by Jaipur photographer Nishanth Radhakrishnan

[iamedelweiss]

don't read the tags u bitch (just kidding but still, don't read them)

[just-some-random-blogger]

Bound By Blood

Being on your period was already a pain as it is, but accidentally binding yourself to a demon with a menstrual pad was a real cherry on top.

demon!Daemon Targaryen x Reader x bf!Aemond Targaryen | 2k+| cw: fem!reader, modern au, menstruation and its symptoms (duh), bloody depictions, crack fic, dumbass shenanigans, internet translated high Valyrian, typos, etc.

A/N: after reading @happilyhertale's period fic and @lady-phasma's period fic, i remembered a tumblr post i saw a long time ago about how napkins have really pretty designs for no reason cuz ur gonna get blood all over it anyway. as tumblr posts do, it spiraled and someone likened the designs to like a pentagram then someone was like u could accidentally summon a demon, thus this. i really did try to find it but alas i could not

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @ceoofyearning

@targaryenmoony @risefallrise @thebullship @sa3losa @pendragora @sloanexx

If you've ever had a hard time with your period, please consider donating €5 to Nour's GoFundMe, as the people in Palestine do not have access to any sort of feminine hygiene products; help her and her family evacuate.

"Lovie?"

"Yeah?"

I put my phone on loud speaker and place it on the side of the sink, "did I tell you to buy macadamia chocolates?"

"... no. I'll get you some."

"And something salty," I sit on the toilet and open my pad packet. I peel the red wrapper off.

"Mmm... crisps?"

"Yeah, the pink one."

"Alright. Anything else, love?"

I change the napkin on my underwear before replying, "mmm... oh! Please read the packaging. I want pads with wings, Aemond, with wings."

"Right. Copy, copy. With wings."

I pull my shorts up and flush the toilet, "thank you, love."

"Mmm. Love you. Bye."

"Bye, love. I love you."

The call ends and I wrap my used napkin in the wrapper of my new pad, rolling it up, and throwing it out. I grab my phone and walk back to my bed.

I huff and get under the sheets, petting the black cat asleep on top of it. Vhagar wags her tail once and I grab my laptop, continuing my binge session.

I wince when I feel a dull pain in my uterus. I pause my show and lean into my pillow, riding out the discomfort.

I moan and begin to heave. My eye twitches at the stabbing sensation. I slowly get out of bed, annoyed by the gush of blood I feel when I move. I make my way to my kitchen and grip on the counter as I prepare a kettle for some tea.

"Stop hating me cause I'm not pregnant," I hiss at my uterus as the pain continues.

I push my weight onto the counter top as I reach for a mug and a tea bag. I huff and screw my eyes. Once the pain subsides enough, I grab my kettle and turn, putting it on the stove. Once the fire is lit, I turn back to grab my mug and place the tea bag in my mug.

Suddenly, the room is thick, the atmosphere is heavy, and there is an inexplicable feeling of dread in my stomach. I feel my body warm and the hairs at the back of my neck raise, and it was not because of my period.

"Iksis ziry iā rūs jaelā?" Is it a baby you want?

I gasp and snap back, pulling my mug to my chest. My eyes widen and my heart leaps into my throat as I behold a towering figure covered in blood. Its body is barely contained in the room; its long neck coils downward to peer at me and its wings are cramped together behind itself. It's as though all the blood in my body drains.

The dragon-like creature chuckles deeply, his golden eyes sparkle, "gaoman jorrāelagon se yknagon hen zūgagon," I do love the smell of fear. It reaches out and delicately scratches its talons on my neck, "but I would not frighten you to death before completing our pact, devoted."

My body is frozen cold in fear as he pulls away. Slowly, its body morphs into a man. The reptilian features and glistening scales where replaced by long, silver hair and plump, smirking lips, all still drenched in blood. His expression mischievous and expectant.

"Ask of me, and see the beauty in thine blood offering to Daemon, The Rogue Prince."

Through barely a breath, in the most strained of voices, I mutter, "w h a t ?"

A rich chuckle bubbles out of his curved lips, "oh, I do loathe the coy and simple-minded. If you wish to amuse me, flatter me. Do not play dumb."

I slowly try to maneuver away from him, "I-" I whisper under sharp breaths, "I don't know what you mean-"

In a rush of either confidence or lunacy, I sprint away from him and run back into the bedroom. I scream and halt in my spot when I collide with the same being's chest.

I feel blood stick to me as I recoil and drop to the floor at the impact. The creature looks down on me and lifts his chin, "what's that then?"

Daemon points to the floor, causing me to look and see nothing but the panels.

Just then, Vhagar awakes and begins to go feral. She hisses loudly at the man, and I scramble to my feet, trying to get to her and calm her down, fearing he blood bathed being would kill her.

Remarkably, it seems I should actually do the opposite as the demon is deterred by Vhagar. He steps back and lowers his gaze. He chuckles dryly as I jump on the bed, going behind Vhagar.

"What is this trickery?"

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

He scoffs and I swear his eyes are set ablaze, "I am bound by my sigil, woman, and I smell the blood on it."

My face morphs into bewilderment, "I DID NOT MAKE A BLOOD SACRIFICE-"

"Where is your summoning circle then!" he demands.

Vhagar hisses at his tone, her fur prickling as Daemon steps forward. He stills and draws in a deep breath. I swear his eyes go red for a second.

He points again, this time at me, "your legs."

My eyes widen preternaturally.

"My blood altar is between your thighs."

Meanwhile, Aemond was on the bus when he received a call.

He picks it up, "hel-"

"THERE'S A-" he pulls his phone away from his ear, "-DEMON IN OUR HOME! AEMOND-"

Aemond knits his brows tightly in concern at the sound of sobbing. He pulls his groceries closer to his chest, "honey, what do me--"

"THERE'S A DEMON IN OUR- VHAGAR NO--"

Aemond's heart drops at the sound of the commotion from the other end of the call. He hears cat yowling and objects crashing. He stiffens and speaks as calmly as possible, "I'm coming home. I'm almost there. Can you hear me, I-" the call ends.

By the time he gets home, his defenses are up. The ruckus from the inside is audible from outside the apartment. He holds his groceries in one hand and opens the door, warily entering. He grabs the long purple umbrella by the rack and closes the door soundlessly. He stalks inside, clenching his jaw at the sudden silence.

He surveys the place and sees the mess, yet no soul was present. He places the groceries on the kitchen top and creeps into the bedroom.

The door was already open, but, still, there was no one.

He freezes when Vhagar hisses. He lifts his gaze upon the black, senior cat sat at the top of the closet, looking into space with her fur raised.

"Aemond?!"

Aemond lowers his gaze.

"NO, DON'T HURT HIM!" I scream from inside the closet.

Aemond grips the umbrella and looks around the room. Vhagar hisses again.

He looks at his cat then the closet door.

"AEMOND- NO-- I'M PULLING YOU IN-"

Without another word, I leap out of the closet and grab Aemond, yanking him inside. I immediately shut the doors and begin to hyperventilate.

"What's happening? What's going on?" he asks, clutching my cheeks.

I whine and grip his wrists in distress. I whisper, "Vhagar's keeping us safe."

Aemond's nostrils flare, "what's happening? What's wrong?"

I shake my head and shudder, "there's a demon--"

"You know I can hear you right?"

I squeal, making Aemond tense and tighten his grip on me. I hear Vhagar hiss from above the closet.

Without much thought, Aemond pushes the doors open and holds his umbrella like a weapon.

I scream and pull him back when I hear sinister laughtera, "AEMOND, NO!"

Aemond claims an offensive stance, ready to bat his umbrella at whomever was in front of him, and yet there was no one. My breath hitches as I anticipate Daemon to jump us both, but he doesn't.

With furrowed brows, the man looks over to me, "baby, there's no o-"

Aemond yelps as I rush out of the closet and drag him out of the bedroom with me. We make our way to the kitchen, and I immediately rummage through the groceries, grabbing the pack of pads.

"Honey, what was it exactly that you-" Aemond cuts himself off as he watches me run out of the room, heading to the bathroom.

Immediately, I pull my shorts down and replace my bloody pad. I stare at the menstrual blood on the white napkin, realizing only now that there was, in fact, a sigil of a three headed dragon on the surface.

"There is it."

I scream. I look up at the bloody Daemon staring back at me, smirking with crossed arms.

I hear Aemond run towards the bathroom door. He calls out my name in concern.

I rip my used napkin off my underwear and chuck it to the demon. I scream once more when he manifests beside me, avoiding my assault.

"Unsanitary," Daemon clicks his tongue.

Aemond bangs on the door, "what's going on? Do you need any help?"

I sidestep away from Daemon and hurriedly replace my pad.

Aemond calls out my name as he knocks.

Daemon turns to the door, lips curling in annoyance, "I will slay him if he enters."

My eyes widen. It was only then I realized there was a sword hanging upon his hip. I feel sick.

Aemonds sounds agitated, "I'm coming insi-"

"NO!" I rip my pants up and run to the door. I shove Aemond back the moment I can. I squeeze myself out of the small opening and I push him back until he finally repels me and grabs my arms. Aemond and I are in the kitchen by then.

He calls out my name and grabs my cheeks. His face is marked by worry.

I panic, "wait, where's Vhagar?"

"She's probably just-"

"DID HE KILL VHAGAR-"

"Look at me!"

I stare at him with wide, watery eyes. I whimper through a broken voice, "Vhagar was the only thing keeping me safe."

"From the demon?" Aemond asks carefully, swiping my tears with his thumbs.

"Please-" I choke out, "-believe me, I-"

"I believe you, darling," he strokes my hair. He pulls away and grabs the salt jar on the counter. He shows me the container before pouring some in his hand.

I raise my brows as he presents me the salt in his cupped palm.

Aemond speaks calmly, "if I see that fucker, I'll-"

"You'll what?"

Aemond shrieks and chucks the salt behind me. In the same terrified manner, I squeal and run behind Aemond.

The demon groans, "ao doru-borto qogralbar!" You stupid fuck!

Aemond pushes me behind him as he watches the blood covered man rub his eyes. He almost, out of instinct, chucked the whole jar at him, but he was glad he didn't. He pours a salt circle on the floor.

Aemond pulls me into his chest and begins to chant, "qrīdrughagon lēda ao!" Away with you!

Daemon looks up at us with a furious expression. His rage is quelled but when he sees the ground which we stood. His red eyes widen as he looks up at me, as if in disbelief of what he was seeing.

I tug on Aemond's shirt with agitation, "is this circle gonna keep us-"

"QRĪDRUGHAGON LĒDA AO!" Aemond shouts.

Daemon's eye twitches, "who is this imbecile you seek refuge in?"

"Don't answer it! Don't give him my name," Aemond says as he fishes something in his pocket.

"You act as though I know not your name is Aemond, imbecile."

"Aemond, I really think we-"

"Ignore him," says Aemond as he pulls out his phone.

Daemon chuckles darkly, "oh... how sweet you think such a thing is possible.

I cling tightly onto Aemond as he pulls out his phone. I whimper, "is now really the time?!"

"I'm calling Aegon," Aemond replies, placing his phone to his ear.

"What?!"

"He knows how to do an exorcism."

"?!?!?"

"You dare," Daemon yells, "think that I-"

"He was recruited in a cult once."

"-would be easily cast out by m-"

"QRĪDRUGHAGON LĒDA AO!"

If you enjoyed this fic, please consider donating €5 to Nour's GoFundMe so that she and her family can evacuate and experience the luxury of reading fics in the safety of their homes.

[agentnatesewell]

Tagged by beloveds @nsewell @masonspecialist to write out my username(s) using song titles. Thank you!

brightpinkpeppercorn

because you love me - céline dion // rhapsody in blue - george gershwin // i just can’t stop loving you - michael jackson // god is a woman - ariana grande // habibi - tamino // the roof - mariah carey // push - madonna // i am falling in love - isak danielson // nothing compares to u - sinéad o’connor // killer queen - queen // pink pony club - chappell roan // elastic heart - sia // paris, or wherever we are - emily hearn // push it - salt-n-pepa // espresso - sabrina carpenter // river - leon bridges // can’t feel my face - the weeknd // one - mary j blige & u2 // run the world (girls) - beyoncé // no strings attached - nsync

agentnatesewell

all of me - john legend // gimme! gimme! gimme! (a man after midnight) - abba// enchanted - cover by joseph william morgan orchestra // nocturne no. 2 in e flat major, opt. 9 no. 2 - frédéric chopin & daniel barenboim// this kiss - carly rae jepsen // nour el ein/ - amr diab// ain’t no other man - christina aguilera// the chain - fleetwood mac // everybody (backstreet’s back) - backstreet boys// sunlight - hozier// everytime we touch - cascada// water under the bridge- adele// eleanor rigby - the beatles // love me like you do - ellie goulding// lights down low - max

Tagging (no pressure!) @crownleys @delucadarling @wayhavenots @kibellah @gauntlings @toads-treasures @evilbunnyking and YOU! Please tag me if you do!

[lizzybeth1986]

Laylat al-Henna

Book: The Royal Romance

Rating: PG

Pairing: Kiara Theron x Hana Lee

Word Count: 1, 882 words

Summary: It's the night before Kiara and Hana's wedding! What fun things do Kiara's cousins from Fes have in store for their henna night?

A/N: You'll find details and visuals on the fashion and henna designs (as well as faceclaims for the OCs!) in this post.

Tagging @kiaratheronappreciationweek for KTAW Day 1: Culture, @choicesficwriterscreations for FoTW/LGBTQ Archive, @choicespride as well even though it may be a bit early for the pride event.

It is tradition - Kiara has been told over and over, wedding after wedding, from the time she was twelve - for a woman to have her bridegroom's name hidden in the designs of her henna.

Their families back in Fes would make a game of it on their wedding night; the groom could touch his bride only when he found his name, tiny and dark and perfect - leaving the most beautiful stain on her palms.

At least four (well...three, really) of those cousins had giggled over how it all went down at their own wedding nights. Nour's henna had her husband's name written in extremely small print, squirreled away among a row of curls. Imane's flowed along the curves of a large, floral paisley. Nissrine's husband was rumoured to have taken hours searching for his name in her henna and poor Fatimazahra's collapsed into an eight-hour slumber before he could even truly try.

All four of them laughed even harder when they were told that Kiara would be marrying a woman.

At first Kiara assumed it had to be the fun of celebrating two brides rather than just one. Double the joy, double the dancing, double the bridal henna!

Should've known better, Kiara mutters to herself as her eyes search frantically for telltale signs of calligraphy along the darkened vines on Hana's palm.

She almost lets out a triumphant yell when she catches a lovingly inscribed kaaf, deceptively mirroring the vines. That's before she realises the other four letters are scattered in Arabic all over Hana's palm.

Kiara purses her lips, immensely annoyed. Why did she think this to be so romantic in the first place?

"Oh!" Hana whispers in delight, "Look! I've found mine." Her finger lightly traces the soft skin underneath Kiara's little finger, caressing the spot where her own name is inscribed, in Mandarin....as a whole word. Her eyes sparkle in childlike glee.

Kiara manages to catche an alif peeking out from behind a flower on the soft skin just below Hana's thumb. She lets out a small huff of laughter, shaking her head.

Perhaps she should thank every deity of every faith that her parents' gave her a name as short as Kiara. Imagine her plight if it had been as long as Fatimazahra's, zut alors.

"My darling cousins," she says, her eyes still roaming over Hana's palms. Now...now she understands all those hearty cackles Nour seemed to be making, at the idea of arranging a henna party for two women. "Elles me conduiront à ma tombe!"

--

Every woman at the henna party in Castelserraillan that night shared very knowing grins as Kiara and Hana entered - completely blissed out, skin dewy and aglow, a mixture of a french lavender scent and the earthy aroma of ghassoul clay emanating from their bodies.

They'd been brought into the hall like princesses of old, carried in jewelled palanquins, dressed in caftans and takchitas whose golden threads reflected the soft light of the hall, the candles that seemed to receive their own henna treatment in tones of pink, purple and rose gold, and their light glowed softly in trays of pure gold.

Having experienced the joys of the pre-henna night hammam baths themselves, most of Kiara's aunts and cousins could tell how good the treatments must have been within the first ten minutes of a bride entering the ceremony.

Beneath her golden veil, Kiara's eyes roamed around the hall, in awe of the sheer love and detail that must have gone into planning this party alone. Both women being daughters to a multitude of cultures meant that Kiara and Hana had to pay their respects to several of their homes - Bethulia. Castelserraillan. Udvada. Orleans. Fes. Shanghai. Cordonia. - in different ceremonies, and include a multitude of relatives.

Which meant that Kiara's aunts and cousins knew this night was their moment to shine.

Hana was whisked to another corner of the room before Kiara could even get a chance to speak to her - a bevy of ladies already surrounding her to fulfill requests, give her mint tea, admire the henna's artist's craft or just for a small chat. Anything and everything Hana wanted. Tonight (and this was exactly how Kiara wanted it) Hana was going to be treated like a queen.

From under her lashes, Kiara sneaked a look at Hana. The woman she would call her wife tomorrow. Listening, nodding, her silken brown hair catching the glow of the lights as she threw her head back at a joke her aunt Hala said.

"If you stare any harder you'll bore a hole in the wall behind her," Nissrine came to her, grinning as she followed Kiara's gaze. She looked around the hall, slightly doubtful. "How did we do?"

Kiara laughed, placing her free hand on her cousin's arm, reassuring her with the word they would all use to describe something as beautiful. "Zwina."

Fatimazahra - who had been minding the caterers this whole time - seemed to appear out of nowhere, chukling. "Tomorrow is her wedding night. Of course everything will be zwina. The macroute will be zwina, her henna will be zwina, her wife will be the most zwina."

Kiara moved her gaze from Hana to her own palms, admiring the naqasha's speed and precision. The henna felt cool on her left palm, the designs on her arms already beginning to dry a little and the paste itself smelling pleasant and earthy - the way real henna should.

The naqasha - an experienced henna artist from their hometown whose team had become popular among the family circles for their vast knowledge of different henna styles (Indian, Pakistani, Khaleeji, Fassi, Marrakechi, Meknessi, Saharawi - you name it) - had finished making a beautiful dome at the centre of Kiara's palm, and was now referring to a tiny piece of paper Imane seemed to have given her before carefully writing out Méihuā - the name Hana's paternal family often used for her - in Hànzì script.

Kiara smiles mistily as she watches Soraya, the naqasha, labour over each character of the script, making sure she never got a single line or slant wrong. Hana often told her that that name reminded her of happier times, far more than her own birth name did. It meant plum blossom - the flower that grew fragrant and resilient in the snow, China's national flower. Her Năinai's favourite flower.

And over the past year...she'd begun to answer to it a little more too.

Kiara mouthed a silent "thank you" to Imane as she sauntered to her side, looking very pleased with herself.

"Wonderful work, Soraya," she patted the naqasha lightly on her shoulder, "What oils did you add in the henna paste this time?"

"Tea tree, geranium and lavender," Soraya said, smiling, "She can hold her hands in front of some herbal incense later. A lovely rich colour and the scent will be incredible."

"Ohhh...what a deep stain it'll leave behind when the henna comes off!" Imane looked back at Kiara, winking. "Remember what our aunts used to tell us, Kiara? The darker the stain of the henna, the deeper the essence of his love. Or her's, in this case."

Kiara was grateful for her golden veil as heat creeped up her neck. Maman loved that adage, ever since her own wedding where - if Kiara's aunts were to be believed - her henna deepened to a dark, rich brown without even holding her hands to a brazier like everyone else did.

Kiara always liked to call herself a practical woman. But this didn't stop her from dreaming of showing Hana her palms, rich and deep brown from both henna and their love.

"Is Hana liking her designs?" Kiara asked Imane.

"Iyyeh," Imane nodded. "Soraya's girls have really outdone themselves. Indian designs are usually very elaborate, but Hana wanted something simple, a little floral."

She gave Kiara a wolfish grin, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "I think you're going to love it."

Kiara narrowed her eyes at Imane. She knew that look. It was the kind she would give all her cousins when, as children, she was about to do skin her knees climbing the branches of a fig tree.

Kiara was going to open her mouth to ask what Imane had in mind, when the low, deep strains of the guembri rang throughout the room.

It was Nissrine's younger sister Nour, closing her eyes in reverence and plucking the strings of the family guembri - a legacy from her father, a renowned Gnawa master himself. The guembri had been in the family for generations, itself decorated with henna patterns so intricate it would amaze even the best of naqashas.

As the women in her family got up to dance to "Toura Toura", a song Kiara would listen to and relish in 12 hour lilas every year in Fes (singing in Bambara - a language neither she nor her cousins truly understood but loved to hear), she found herself somehow dancing next to the woman she had been craving to see for the last few hours.

"Well, hello there," Kiara said, sneaking a kiss to Hana's cheek.

Hana giggled. "Fancy running into you."

They danced until their feet were sore, until their eyes begged for sleep, until their henna dried - leaving behind a stain that was a deep, dark, rich brown.

--

"They did that on purpose!" Kiara huffs, ten minutes after she has triumphantly shown Hana the final letter - the rāy curling at the base of her wrist. "They were planning to annoy and vex me this entire time. If they were here right now I'd tell them to go cook themselves an egg."

For all her grumbling, however, Kiara was quite overjoyed. She had hoped that her extended family in Fes would adore Hana just as much as she did, that they would love her and pamper her silly. They went above and beyond; they made Hana's first real experience of Morocco practically unforgettable.

It was. In every sense of the word. Even if that involved secretly pulling Kiara's leg.

Hana pouts, her fingers still tracing the name on Kiara's palm. "I wish they scattered letters for me too. Seems like more of a challenge." She shifts a little more into Kiara's arms, turning her gaze to her own palms. "Not that I don't love your henna already. It's gorgeous; look at these curls in the center! They remind me of a compass rose."

Hana runs her fingers purposefully along the length of Kiara's body. She presses five tiny kisses along her face.

"A kiss for each letter," she hums happily against Kiara's skin, "A just reward for your hard work."

Laughter bubbles in Kiara's throat. "Only five?"

"Kiara Yasmine Thorne," Hana's voice takes on a raspy, sultry quality, "Don't be greedy."

"Ma moitie," she whispers back, "I believe tonight's the one night when greed is allowed."

Hana bites her lower lip to stem her own laughter, then lets her lips roam free over Kiara's face.

"Fine, then," Hana huffs in mock-petulance, only too happy to go along with the joke, "Eighteen kisses it is."

Kiara buries her hands in Hana's hair as she breathes in the fragrance from between her shoulder and neck. "I won't mind if you give me more...but alright. Eighteen's a start."

Translation -

Darija:

Kaaf (ك), yaa (ي), alif (ا)(twice), rāy (ر) are the isolated letters that - I think - will form Kiara's name in Arabic. I believe that it may look somewhat like this (كيارا) when written as one word, but the letters are meant to be scattered around Hana's henna just to tease Kiara.

Ghassoul/Rhassoul clay - a type of clay that some people use as a cosmetic product for their skin and hair. It’s a brown clay only found in a valley in the Atlas mountains of Morocco. The term “rhassoul” comes from an Arabic word that means “to wash.” Typically used in hammam baths.

Zwina - a compliment, literal meaning is beautiful or good.

Macroute - a diamond shaped sweet cookie filled with dates and nuts or almond paste.

Naqasha - Henna artist

Guembri - a three stringed skin-covered bass plucked lute used by the Gnawa people

Lila - a rich ceremony in the Gnawa community, of song, music, dance, costume, and incense that takes place over the course of an entire night, ending around dawn. Learn more here.

Toura Toura - Popular Gnawa song. Here is a version by Innov Gnawa.

French:

zut alors - an expression of annoyance, like saying "darn!" or "damn!", mostly used in non-serious instances.

Elles me conduiront à ma tombe! - They will lead me to my grave!

Va te faire cuire un œuf! - Literally, "go cook yourself an egg!". An expression of annoyance, similar to "go take a hike!" or "leave me alone!"

[kideusindigofirefox]

He ran from his heart until his paws hurt

It was one of those nights. He sat on his balcony, meditating. The sun had set an hour ago. The crisp autumn air stung on his skin, as he thought about his crush. And how would he tell him how he felt. He could use some help, but he didn't want to be a wimp… He wanted to do it himself. But there was a problem.

He took a deep breath in when he heard the balcony door open. He turned to look there, seeing the familiar face of his younger brother.  ''Aren't you cold out here?'' He scoffed playfully, holding a duvet in his hands.  ''No, not really.'' The older brother said.  ''Well, I brought you a blanket anyway.'' He said.  ''Thanks Nour.'' He took the duvet and wrapped it around his shoulders. The softness of the purple and black bat duvet felt good on his hands. 

They fell into silence. The older brother looked at the starry sky through the glass windows of the balcony that were shut. But soon, Nour broke the silence.  ''Deus, you should just let him know.'' He said in a soft and gentle, but stern voice.  ''I know… But I am afraid. How would he think of me if he finds out I am not just a fox, but…'' He went quiet, feeling his twin tails starting to form.  ''He will accept you. You know how he is.'' Nour sighed. ''You know him better than anyone else here. Hell, you know him best of our whole group!''  Deus fell in silence. He could feel his snout, ears… Paws. Fur. 

''Open the window for me.'' He said. ''I want to go for a run.''  ''Don't try to run over the Atlantic again, okay?'' Nour chuckled, opening the window for him. ''You know the night won't allow you.''  ''I know,'' Deus said, biting back a growl, as he leaned forward. It wouldn't be his first waltz with the fox he called Revo, but it was the first time he would hop from his balcony.  ''Be careful.'' Nour said.  Deus nodded, as he turned into a black, twin-tailed fox on the balcony. He was bigger than an ordinary fox, and his tails sparked with green and pink fire, as it lit his fur in beautiful aurora greens, pinks, and purples. He hopped a few steps, before backing away to the back wall of the balcony, taking a few jumps, his fur sparkled with a white wave, then getting the beautiful aurora shade. He ran in the air and with the woosh of his tail, he painted the skies with auroras more beautiful than ever before. But those auroras held deep sorrow. 

He could hear the people's voices from below.  ''Wow! Look at that!'' ''How?! There are no reports of Sun storms!'' ''Stop looking at your phone and look up!'' 

Deus felt everything at once. He felt deep sorrow. He felt deep happiness. He felt anger, embarrassment… He wanted to cry, to scream, to shout. So he screeched. Screamed. It sounded like a human… His scream echoed to the skies. His anger felt burning, his sadness clouded his eyes. He screamed again. He screeched again and again and again in frustration. He ran towards the full moon that shone in the sky. He screamed again, this time at the moon while he jumped from cloud to cloud. From wish to wish. He wanted to run so much further. He wanted to run away from these feelings. He never had a chance to feel them, other than as Revo. To scream at the moon. To scream in the skies because nowhere else was it ''appropriable'' to scream in pure emotion. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to weep. Instead, he hopped higher and higher, until it felt like he could touch the moon… He stopped running, feeling the gravity taking hold of him and he began falling. Down back to earth. Back to the dark autumn night of Finnish skies. 

He reached for the moon, growling as he spun around, continuing to run and color the skies with his tail. He painted in beautiful healing green, strengthening magenta, and bright wisteria purple, but the strong colors correlated differently in him. The mix of green and purple was a cry for help. The Magenta was his romantic, drowned feelings. He wasn't in the end afraid of what his crush would say. He was fearful of what he might do if he had a chance. How toxic would he be again? How would he behave? How would he destroy yet another… 

He let out a scream. He needed to work out these emotions. He would need to talk about them, journal about them, and do some inner work… Before he could even think about telling about his feelings. He needed to sort himself out first. He kept his head high, tears running down from his eyes. His heart ached from the thought, so he screamed again. He wanted so badly, but couldn't get it. For one… It would be so far away. His crush lived in America… He lived in Europe. He had too high hopes. Or so it felt. He wanted to just run across the Atlantic, to get to… But he couldn't. The night didn't allow him. He could try to run within the night, but it wouldn't be a fast trip… It would take hours. He would take the chance if he had the energy, but right now he could be in this form, as Revo, running in the skies for 7 hours. It wouldn't be enough on any level, even though it was further from his half an hour which he started with. 

He cried in the sky, running faster and faster, so fast his paws hurt… Yet he didn't stop for a second. He kept painting the skies, and as he finally stopped to rest on the roof of a high building he noticed it. The tens of thousands of hearts floating in the skies, some already slightly fading. He wanted to cry more… Because he didn't feel worth it. 

He returned home… Hopping to the balcony, where Nour was still sitting with a cup of hot chocolate… 

[nsvry]

✧ nour ! . she/her. isfp. slytherin. pisces. welcome to my 2014 blog/archive !! moodboard maker. inbox is open for requests for moodboards so feel free to leave and ask a requests for moodboards to be made, or to ask a question.

MORE ABOUT ME - my interests ; pink, kittens, stars, deer fawn, shifting, editing, blythe dolls, music, bows, movies, harry potter, light pink skies, winter, stop motion, 2014, strawberries, old disney, my melody, reading, books, ellie williams, romance movies/shows/books, batman, twilight. MY PLAYLIST - music artists ; gracie abrams, sabrina carpenter, ariana grande, lana del rey, deftones, chase atlantic, beabadoobee, mitski, laufey, the smiths, tv girl, arctic monekys, the neighbourhood, clairo, tyler the creator, melanie martinez, linkin park, system of a down, rihannna, ayesha erotica, pastel ghost, nirvana, kali uchis, twice. spotify personal blog

© nsvry.tumblr.com I don't own any of the pictures I use in my posts, they are from my pinterest.

[nightflower-stuff]

❤️ OC Fanarts ❣️

1st & 2nd slide + 3rd slide: My OCs (Fashion outfit):

- Shigeko doing smokes & her girlfriend, Carolina was never allow to her🥰🤣😂

- Carolina shows the outfit then her gf taking a picture to her 😎💕✨ (At the 3rd slide)

4th, 5th, 6th & last slide: Other OCs:

- Angel Pink & her different forms & AUs:

• Fanart gift for @imposterpinkie2022

- Nour X Toni Kroos X Mayar Aktham + Ter Stegen:

• Art Requests/Suggestions & Fanart gift for @/m4y.ar (Instagram)

- Rayburn X Irina (Prom Dance at the party)

• Fanart gift for @navarreteabdiel23 (Instagram)

- Lyna (Nerd) & Zack (Popular)

Art requests/suggestions & Fanart gift for @/aiko_putri_irfan (Instagram)

Hope you like them ☺️💕😎✨

OCs:

Angel Pink & her different forms & AUs (@imposterpinkie2022)

Nour & Mayar Aktham (@/m4y.ar)

Shigeko (My 1st OC)

Carolina (My 2nd OC)

Lyna & Zack (@/aiko_putri_irfan)

Next Gen OCs:

Irina (My supporting OC)

Rayburn (@/navarreteabdiel23)

[nour-rodriguez]

Now Available on prints on REDBUBBLE Themes from Pink Floyd’s Songs  Artwork by Nour Rodriguez

[nourfk]

When & Where: KROQ98.9 ... in the early afternoon! (Day 2)

📻 @swstarters

Nour never really considered herself to be the 'groupie' type. To even consider herself a 'fan' of someone was a far stretch. Everything seemed to change, however, when they announced that Pink Slip would be performing. Nour had stumbled upon the girl band by chance, immediately falling in love with them when she heard them on the radio. It was a wonder why she had never called herself a fan until now, considering how excited she was just to see their name on the lineup. Standing near the tent of KROQ98.9, Nour was determined to earn some merch —or, if the heavens wanted— a meet and greet! She had been waiting for the announcements for Day 2's contest for a good while now, anxiously watching the hosts replacing merch not for Pink Slip. She sighs, wondering if she'd have to wait for The Stains to finish their set before she got to hear anything about the band she's been waiting for. "Excuse me, were you here yesterday?" she asks the person nearest to her. "Do you happen to know when they're gonna announce the next contest?"

[kcdoessl]

I am not amused❕

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➟IVES x LeLUTKA Evo - Cavalgada Gloss

➟poema - Susana Eyelashes

➟Cosmetize / Nour Face Glow / 75%

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➟03 Eyebrow Cut

➟Izzie's -Knee Details 15, Body Imperfections 08, Button Nose 14

➟// L // LuxxVII Nails

♥Accessories:

➟TETRA - Vanity necklaces

➟Ysoral .:Luxe Earrings

➟^^Swallow^^ Angel Bite Piercings

➟PKC Louise Bento Rings

➟SNJ Heartfelt Bracelet

➟GRAAL STORE - Hand Cigarette

♥Tattoo:

➟Juna: Mieko tattoo

♥Backdrop:

➟MINIMAL - Sand Backdrop Pink

☪♥Melody Social Networks:

•Main Store

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•Website

💜My Flickr

[ingolds]

oh no. not the puppy dog pout. you know i can't resist that. 🌕 lots and lots of flirting

if it was anyone else and any other situation using the phrase puppy dog pout, theo might be offended. it has certain implications, after all. but not with nour — never with nour, and not when his head is pillowed on their abdomen, piano player’s fingers splayed beside the fan of his own hair. they’ve been kept simmering for what feels like hours now, nour pressing his mouth to the scars on their chest, to the end point of their sternum, to the soft hair beneath their navel ever so often, and theo’s pulse jumps each and every time, theo hoping — praying, even, in the dark and private recesses of their mind — that he’s going to do more. that he’s going to stop teasing, satisfied that he has them appropriately riled up.

he's patient, though, perhaps more than theo is. their efforts to convince him through suggestion and their expression alone have both failed. they fold their lower lip behind their teeth when nour brushes his lips just above the hem of their trousers, the muscles in their abdomen fluttering, and make a quick decision.

“ would it sweeten the deal if i said please? ” theo asks, carding their fingers through the downy hair at the crown of nour’s head, and nour turns his face up to meet their eyes, fangs just barely visible through the pink part of his lips. “ i know you like it when i beg. ”

@indeath

[vindicain]

how did you get this scar? ✖ morbid curiosity

they don't fault him his curiosity. the scars that litter his forearms are obvious and ugly, mottled tissue that only healed halfway perfect. the doctors did their best, of course, but who knows how long it'd taken for them to stitch him up and pump him full of the blood he'd poured out on the kitchen floor? if only he could see the jagged slashes mapped over his sternum.

nour's touch is light on their skin, the pad of one fingertip tracing the irregular notches left behind by the staples. cain studies the pink of nour's mouth visible between parted lips, feels goosebumps tighten beneath the cool press of his fingerprint.

“ sorry, ” he says, not sorry in the slightest. they slip their arm out from under his searching hands and fold it over their chest. “ you have to be a level five friend to unlock that story. ”

@indeath

[murmuur-vanilja]

Fictober 2022.8 — Antidepressants on the roof

Prompt number 8: "Do you remember?" Original fiction: My Servant, the Devil Rating: M Warnings: war, violence, suicide

Houses on fire, people dressed in green shouting for changes to be made to the political regime, the fear in the eyes of those who didn’t agree to the Green ideology, failed negotiations with the Red Forces, fights with the Pink Police, the erosion of a country potentialized and turned into self‑destruction. Such was the view that Nour loathed, perched on a roof, breathing for air. She couldn’t believe anything about that surreal scenery. She always thought that she had done everything so well, yet by all means, she had failed at taming the spirit of the revolution running wild in the streets. The events were unfolding at a fast pace, but it seemed to her that time was flowing even slower than during the peaceful era. She sighed at the civil war; her mind having long gone blank. Of course, she still wanted to act. Of course, she still wanted to solve the whole matter. However, her options were fewer than the day before, and her chances of success were getting slimmer at a similar rate. The refined music of tea sipping caused her to release her state of zoning out, and she turned her head toward the out-of-place sound.

When her depressed gaze met my amused stare, she didn’t immediately turn her frown into a furious expression as she had done during our first and latest encounter. Rather, she seemed unsurprised and let out a long sigh. If she was going to be such a bummer, I wouldn’t have bothered showing up at all. I jumped straight to the teasing. “Sister Tankie has nothing to say to me today? Too busy wanting to kill yourself over your failed attempt of recreating an ideal USSR?” “Get away from me, Ren. I’m not in the mood to talk to you. I gave you the chance to cooperate with us to solve it properly, but you messed everything up, and now things are even worse than before. I still must find a way to get this country back on track. I’m not going to make the same mistake twice, so just get away from me.” She made a vague hand gesture in my direction. It had no real will in it, but it was still the expression of a request to have me removed from her sight. I shrugged it off and took another sip of my vanilla tea. “Don’t you mean thrice, lol? It’s already the second civil war under your watch.” Her eye twitched. I could sense a timid anger being born again. Despite my selfish intents, it seemed I was motivating her to become an actor rather than a mere observer again. After all, my favourite drama wasn’t quite complete without all the main cast being on stage. I suppose I must have had taken a twisted liking to her character. I shrugged that off as well, for it didn’t truly matter. “The first one wasn’t my mistake. It was yours. Do you remember? This land used to have no complaints before you showed up and spread your silly terroristic views.” I smiled, unbothered by the accusations, and unbothered by the way she had changed the Green ideology from “anarchy”, or at least “anarchy-like”, to “terrorism”. “True, lol. There weren’t any complaints. Do you really think that makes you the good guy here? It barely serves as a piece of evidence your golden throne is the one of dictatorship.” She looked away, avoiding my stare on purpose. After a few seconds of silence, she simply added in a tone I couldn’t quite describe the following words. “You… what do you know?”

[nourfathallah]

Breaking the Rules: Unconventional Evening Dress Styles to Try

What Defines an Evening Dress?

Evening dresses are typically associated with formal events, and traditionally, they come in elegant, long silhouettes made from luxurious fabrics like silk or satin. Long evening dresses have always been a symbol of grace and sophistication. These gowns are often designed to elongate the figure, creating an effortlessly regal appearance. Whether you're attending a gala, wedding, or red carpet event, a classic long evening dress is a go-to for timeless style.

On the other hand, short evening dresses have recently taken center stage for women who want to mix modern flair with elegance. While long gowns offer an air of formality, short evening dresses provide the perfect balance between playful and polished, making them an excellent choice for cocktail parties and semi-formal gatherings. As the line between formal and casual continues to blur, both short and long evening dresses have earned their place in every fashion-forward woman's wardrobe.

The Rise of Unconventional Evening Dress Styles

Breaking fashion rules isn’t just a trend; it’s a movement. Women today are more willing to embrace styles that reflect their individuality, and evening dresses are no longer confined to a rigid mold. Instead, we see an explosion of creativity with designer gown that challenge the norms.

For instance, while black is often considered the ultimate evening dress color, many designers now opt for daring hues like rich burgundy, deep emerald, and even pastel pink. Stepping out in a vibrant color immediately signals confidence and sets you apart from the sea of black gowns. Nour Fathallah offers an array of stunning evening dresses that come in bold, unconventional colors, providing endless inspiration for the adventurous woman.

Another significant trend is the rise of asymmetrical cuts. Asymmetry can create a dramatic, eye-catching effect, whether it's in the hemline, neckline, or sleeve design. This kind of experimentation adds a dynamic twist to the traditional evening dress silhouette, making it a must-try for those who love to stand out.

Unique Fabric Choices

Gone are the days when evening dresses were only made from silk or satin. Today, designers are experimenting with a wide range of fabrics, adding texture and depth to eveningwear. Velvet, for example, has made a strong comeback. Its rich texture and slight sheen make it perfect for evening gowns that exude luxury while remaining unconventional.

Printed fabrics and embroidery are also growing in popularity. Instead of sticking to solid colors, why not try a gown with intricate embroidery or bold prints? A floral-embroidered evening dress offers a fresh, romantic take on formalwear, while abstract prints can add a contemporary edge to your look. Combining different textures—like pairing lace with satin or chiffon with leather—can also make your evening outfit feel modern and exciting.

Exploring Unconventional Silhouettes

One of the most exciting ways to break the rules with evening dresses is through silhouette choices. While traditional gowns tend to follow a fitted bodice and flared skirt formula, there are countless other ways to play with shape. A peplum dress, for example, adds a layer of interest by incorporating a flared overskirt, giving your gown a more dramatic and structured look.

High-low hemlines are another playful option. These dresses, which are shorter in the front and longer in the back, offer the best of both worlds: the elegance of a long gown with the flirtiness of a short one. They’re perfect for women who want to show off their shoes or simply want a gown with a bit of personality.

Off-shoulder designs, cape dresses, and gowns with daring cutouts are other examples of how eveningwear can push boundaries while maintaining sophistication. These styles are ideal for the fashion-forward woman who loves to make an entrance.

Incorporating Modern Accessories

Once you've found your perfect unconventional evening dress, it's time to accessorize. Statement jewelry can elevate even the simplest gown to show-stopping levels. Bold earrings, chunky necklaces, or even a mix of metallics can enhance your look and add a modern twist.

Footwear is another area where you can break the rules. While stilettos are often the go-to for formal events, there's no rule that says you have to stick to them. From embellished flats to sleek ankle boots, the right pair of shoes can complement an unconventional gown beautifully.

Lastly, don’t forget the handbag. A clutch is traditional, but for a modern touch, try a crossbody or mini bag with unique embellishments. The goal is to ensure every element of your outfit, from your dress to your accessories, reflects your personal style.

How to Pull Off Unconventional Evening Dresses with Confidence

At the heart of pulling off any bold look is confidence. Wearing an unconventional evening dress isn’t just about the gown itself—it’s about how you wear it. Remember, personalizing your look can make even the most daring dress feel like an extension of yourself. Whether it's by choosing accessories that speak to your style or altering the gown to better suit your body type, make the look your own.

If you're trying out a style that's new for you, stand tall, smile, and own the room. Confidence is the ultimate accessory that can transform any outfit into a showstopper.

Where to Find Unconventional Evening Dresses

If you're ready to break the rules and embrace something bold, check out Nour Fathallah. Known for their stunning designer evening gowns and peplum dresses, they offer a range of unconventional evening styles perfect for the modern woman. Their collections feature daring silhouettes, vibrant colors, and unique fabrics that redefine eveningwear.

Conclusion

Breaking the rules of evening dress fashion is all about expressing your individuality. Whether you're drawn to bold colors, unique fabrics, or daring silhouettes, unconventional evening dresses offer endless possibilities for the modern woman. Nour Fathallah continues to lead the way in innovative eveningwear, inspiring women everywhere to step out of their comfort zones and embrace the extraordinary. So, the next time you’re looking for an evening dress, why not try something unconventional? You just might love the results.

Visit Our Store- https://nourfathallah.com/