i love you in arabic


The word habibi (feminine form: habibti) in Arabic means “my love”. There are many ways this word can be used. Here are the main two.

1. It can be used as a word of endearment: Commonly used between lovers, family members, and friends. It is used to show love and care. An example: “Kef halak habibi, wahshtni.” (How are you, habibi? I’ve missed you.)

2. Quite ironically, it can be used in the heat of anger so not to be rude and to contain oneself. An example: “La ya habibi, wallahi ma asawi! Int el mushkillah msh ana.. Yoooh, Allah ysabrni!” (in other words: No habibi, wallahi I will not do it! You’re the problem, not me… Ughhh, May Allah give me patience!)

I love this word because you can literally make it conform to any situation. Arabic is a very versatile language in general.

آخر الكلمات التي قالها الأديب دوستويفسكي لزوجته وهو على فراش الموت: “أنا أحبكِ و لم أخُنكِ حتى في الذاكرة”

The final words of the famous Russian writer Dostoyevsky to his wife: “I loved you and did not cheat on you once, even in my thoughts”

Fanfiction - Scalpel & Needle

This is it - the last chapter. The tale of how Scalpel & Needle became Jamie and Claire is now complete. I couldn’t have done it without you all. Thank you!!!


Scalpel & Needle

Part XXV – And He Knows That

Claire trashed against Jamie’s hands, his thumbs an extension of her hipbones, birds with open wings ready to take flight. “Make me come.” She whispered, her voice unhinged, seeming to form without the necessity of movement from her lips. “Please, Jamie.”

He had been teasing her – her body – for hours. First with his cock, only to hold her steadily against his chest when she became frantic and wild, stopping her orgasm like cutting the stem from a growing sunflower. Then with featherlight touches, and Claire could have sworn she would reach completion just from the brush of his lips on her bellybutton. Eventually it was his mouth on her, famished, hot and questioning, and she wondered if the right answer would be surrendering or go on fighting in such delicious closeness. Jamie seemed hellbent on getting something from her - perhaps a different touch of her fingertips, perchance a word escaping her mouth amidst moans. In that moment, she would have given in anything – everything – for him to swallow her whole.

“Remember this.” Jamie whispered somewhere in the darkness of his bedroom. “Remember me.” And he took her, right then and there, with open ferocity, cradling their madly beating hearts between their joined bodies.

In the darkest hours of night, Claire awoke to find him sitting on an armchair in the corner of the room, his sketch pad shakily balanced on his leg. He was drawing rapidly, and she couldn’t see his eyes in the deep shadows.

“What are you doing?” She asked groggily, feeling her body exquisitely overused. “Come back to bed.”

Memories.” He said huskily, and she could hear the soft smile on his full lips. “I’m making memories of ye.”

“I’m sure you have several photos of me in that phone of yours.” Claire was starting to feel cold now that his warmth had escaped her nakedness. “Mad curls, pointed years, fat arse – keep that in mind and you have it covered.”

“I have.” He agreed, slightly adjusting on the chair to get more light, coming in gently from the full moon over Edinburgh. His eyes became visible, intently moving between the paper and her body. “But I want this to be exactly as I see ye. This belongs to no one else, but me.”

His departure was scheduled for the next weekend, just four days away. Barely three weeks had passed between his decision and the deployment to Syria. From the corner of her eyes Claire could see the outline of his traveling backpack, sitting on the floor near the closet, awaiting just the final pieces of his life that could fit inside those pockets. Unfortunately, she could not.

“Do you need me to buy you anything?” She slightly raised from the bed, her head braced on her hand. Her eyes surveyed the neatly folded t-shirts stamped with the Doctor Without Borders insignia, as well as a white vest. “You’ll be working almost until the eve of your departure.”

“Well…” He slowly raised his head and glared at her. His eyes looked almost black, a blue so deep the light could not reach. “There is actually something I need ye to do for me.” He raised from the chair, wearing only his underwear, and padded to the desk where he grabbed two envelopes. Slowly he came to sit next to her in bed, carefully examining his own handwriting. “I wrote a letter to my sister, Jenny, in case – well, ye ken.” Jamie shrugged slightly, a reluctant smile on his face. “We were both wrong and right in a sense. I’m a stubborn man, but there’s no honour in being stubborn in the afterlife. If I’m dead, the only important thing is for her to ken I loved her a great deal.” His thumb traced her bottom lip, so softly she almost bit him to feel him present. “I’m entrusting it to ye.”

“You should tell her all those things when you come back, alive.” Claire framed his face with her palms, feeling the morning stubble prickling her smooth skin. “But I’ll keep the letter until then.”

“Thank ye.” He kissed her hand, his index finger lightly tracing her from temple to jaw. Everything about him was tender and vulnerable, raw like a wound barely scabbed over. “The other one is for ye, Needle. It all started with a letter, it seemed only right to end it that way too.”

“You bloody fool.” Claire whispered, her eyes terribly attracted by the envelope, where Jamie had neatly penned in the front,

To Claire



And all the names I meant to call you (and did when you were sleeping)

“If this is the way you’ve chosen to end things with me, you have terrible timing.” The female surgeon joked, regardless of the tear that was obstinately trapped in her eyelashes. “Because I already have my vengeance planned for you to suffer when you come back.”

“Aye.” He offered her a throaty laugh and kissed the corner of her mouth. She trapped her fingers in the auburn mass of his hair, keeping him close for a while longer. “And I plan to receive it, gladly. But just in case – I wanted ye to know.” Jamie kissed her fully on the lips, his tongue playing with her upper lip. “Ye do know, don’t ye?”

Yes.” Claire breathed, pushing him down to the bed. “I do know.”


A day away from reports and OR schedules and close to patients and surgery was everything Claire craved, occupying her mind enough to help her forget Jamie’s impending departure. Decided to focus entirely on medicine for the day, she took a chart from the nurse’s station and headed for the small room to meet her new patient.

“Good morning!” She chirped pleasantly, her eyes still entirely focused on the chart. “How are you feeling today?”

“Is that you, Claire?” A fragile male voice answered back. Claire haphazardly looked up to meet an old man - his hair stolen from the wing of a crow, with skin the colour of dark honey and gentle brown eyes, filled with a quiet wisdom.

Firouz?” She gasped, the entire world feeling suddenly askew. Fearing she would collapse on the ground, her hand searched for support on the frame of the bed. “How – I thought you were in Istanbul!”

“And so I was.” He grinned, his wrinkled hands, like the skin of a plum, searching for hers. “I’ve missed you, Rohi.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Claire whispered in a husky voice, hugging the man and inhaling his familiar scent of sandalwood and camphor. Although much thinner and older than she recalled, he felt exactly the same. “Too much time has passed since I last saw you. Why haven’t you warned me you were coming here?”

“Ah.” He bumped her nose, exactly as he did when she was young and under his care, sitting on the chaotic living room of Quentin Lambert’s house. “You’d start to fuss and worry about me and I didn’t want that, before you really had to.”

“What’s wrong?” Seeming to finally realize he was laying on a hospital bed – and indeed the patient she was meant to consult – she reached for the chart. The man’s weak hand grabbed hers and stopped the movement.

“I have a bit of a cancer problem.” Firouz revealed with naturality, as if sharing he needed dental extraction. “It’s in my pancreas and a bunch of other places. The doctors in Turkey told me there was nothing they could do. So, I’ve decided to come.”

“I’ll call the head of Oncology to look at your scans.” Claire bit her bottom lip and frenziedly flicked through the papers which told his complete medical history. “Maybe there is an experimental trial that suits you and we –“

“That’s not why I came, Rohi.” He said vehemently, looking at her with a mixture of reproach and endearment. “I’m dying and one should be home for that. You are the closest thing I have left of a home.”

“But you can’t –“ The female surgeon protested, but he grimaced and wiggled his tongue in defiance. She snorted and coughed, half choked with emotion.

“I’m pretty sure I can and will die.” Firouz said softly, without any trace of anger or denial. “Mister Q is waiting for me. I’m sure he has been protesting in Jannah that no one polishes his shoes quite like me, for all these years.”

“That sounds like him.” Claire sniffed, brushing away a loose strand of curly hair. “So very British for a man of the world, even in Heaven.”

“You seemed different, my darling.” The servant’s inspecting eyes crossed her face and body, detaining on her Rod of Asclepius necklace, partially visible bellow her blue scrubs. “More open. Sharper too, but you don’t wield your blade with such recklessness anymore. There is a tenderness in there too.”

“Next you’ll be reading my coffee cup.” Claire rolled her eyes, pretending to be taken aback by his attentions.

“You were so angry the last time I saw you.” Firouz shared in a low voice. “So very angry – it broke my heart. It pained me that I couldn’t heal you.”

“Beauchamp, will ye –“ Jamie entered the room looking absorbedly at a printed X-ray, halting when he envisioned Claire sitting on the bed, her hands between the old man’s. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“That’s quite alright, young man.” The dark-haired man said cheerfully, motioning for Jamie to approach with his hand. “Do you work with my girl, then? Is she as brilliant as I think she is?”

“Most definitely, sir.” The redheaded man threw Claire an inquisitive look, confronted with the endearing words “my girl”. “Our Chief is the best and fiercest surgeon I’ve ever met.” He told him, loyalty and respect dripping from his words.

Suck-up.” Claire grunted, but she smiled openly, nonetheless. “Fraser, this is Firouz Anvari. He worked for my uncle and practically raised me. I would probably have enlisted in a lifetime of boozing and shoplifting without him.”

“It’s a true pleasure to meet ye.” Jamie shook the man’s hand, his cobalt eyes limpid and eager.

“Firouz, this is James Fraser.” She blurted, feeling her cheeks throbbing with a growing flush. “He is…” Again, the necessity of labelling his meaning to her, in a way that was understandable for the rest of the world. The pull of him, above the blinding fear, calling to her louder than ever. “Mine. He is mine.” Claire completed softly. Jamie seemed pleasantly surprised and his whole demeanour was set alight, burning bright under the flame of her admission.

Oh.” The old man looked at the surgeon with renewed interest and nodded slightly. “It truly is my honour then, James Fraser. Claire’s.” He smiled mischievously. “Please make sure to visit me when this one is not around, I’m sure we’ll have much to talk about.”

“I will.” Jamie laughed, squeezing Claire’s hand. His eyes searched hers and he nodded. “I have a patient I need to attend to. I’ll see you both later.”

Claire and Firouz were silent for a moment, calmly enjoying each other’s presence. The old man finally kissed the back of her hand and patted her cheek with a shaking hand. “Will you tell me about this man that is yours, Rohi?”

“Well,” She licked her lips, searching for appropriate words. “He is a skilled surgeon. Stubborn as a mule, but not more than me. Jamie is brave and kind and sometimes infuriating because of those things. He is a very good lover.” She raised her brows naughtily and Firouz giggled. During her adolescent years, he had been her trusted confident and heard enough about tampons, make out sessions in the backseat of old cars and the quest for understanding her own body to be shocked at her boldness. “He is fearless. A man of honour. And he cherishes everything that I am.”

“Well, he sounds like the perfect match for you.” Firouz whistled, impressed. “Julia and Henry would be so impressed. And delighted.”

“Would they?” Claire whispered, absentmindedly playing with the folds of the bedsheet.

“You are still afraid, aren’t you Rohi?” The old man sighed and pulled her to him, so she was almost laying against his chest. She recalled vividly many nights when he had held her so, right after she had arrived at her uncle’s house, whispering stories of his distant home to make her forget her own lost one. “At first, I’m guessing it was the usual fear, but now it’s maybe something else, no?”

“I’m maybe a bit overwhelmed.” She conceded, peeking at him under her long lashes. “And incredulous, to be completely honest.”

“That a man could know you so and still love you?” He perceptively offered. She glared at him, annoyed with his capacities, and he laughed. “You remind me of your parents. Julia was the storm and Henry was only glad to dance in her rain and to clap along with her thunder. They were formidable together.”

“But they had so little time!” Claire protested, swallowing hard, but tears streamed down her face. She didn’t move to wipe them away – they were needed. They were there to cleave her open.

“Yes. And it was an unfortunate and unfair thing.” His voice was unhinged for a moment, remembering the people who had populated his past, so distant in time and so present in memory. “But you were loved by some extraordinary people, Claire. What a treasure to know such love, even if short-lived, rather than having people present who don’t know how to love you.” Firouz kissed the top of her head gently and cradled her like an oversized newborn. “Tell me about your happiness, Rohi. And may I be carried away by it.”


Firouz Anvari died in the hour when owls take flight. His hand was inside Claire’s and she told him stories in a whispered voice; some about their mutual past, some that were private and present, and others she was yet to live. Even if painful, it was peaceful and wholesome as only the death of an immortal soul could be. While she would miss his kindness and insight, Firouz had departed confident in meeting his friends in the afterlife – and for that, she could not resent his journey.

Before she was able to form a full decision on where to go, Claire was at Jamie’s door. It was the middle of the night and he was certainly asleep; the only way he had agreed to go home and rest for the coming trip had been under the promise she would call him if anything happened to Firouz.

Claire groped for the key attached to the doorframe and used it to open his door, without waking him. For a moment she stood there, the slightly rusty and cold metal against her palm. Without a second thought, she placed the key inside her purse, and closed the door behind her.

Silently, she undressed and slowly laid down next to his sleeping form. Jamie looked peaceful and the corner of his mouth seemed to tremble in a half-smile when she touched his forehead.

Claire breathed deeply and felt the moment Jamie was coming awake, recognizing her presence, even with his eyes still fully closed. In a wordless instant he would understand the depth of her loss and make her pain his own; he would love her body without question, kiss away the stains of her soul, not caring if the taste left on his lips was entirely bittersweet.

For once it came to her. What to say. There was still fear, to be sure – perhaps dread would always be there for her – but Jamie had given her a mountain where she could stand over her fear; perhaps see beyond the clouds of doubt, deep into the sunlight.

I love you.” She whispered.

Scrub Out

Hold On III

Warnings: Mentions of a car accident, super sad and stressed Shawn and Aaliyah, my horrible attempt at angst, tooth rotting fluff. Also, I don’t include parents because everyone has different parents and I will never be able to write a neutral. Sorry?  

Summary: When Shawn finds out that you got into a car accident, he’s too stressed to do anything but write a song. The only thing that calms his nerves, other than you.

Word Count: 4.2k…oops?

Beta: This wonderful, beautiful, angelic human who was nice enough to beta for me last minute! @hazeleyedcat Thank you so much, my dear!

Also! If you find any typos or something that doesn’t make sense please drop a message in my inbox! It’s now open with anon on!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3


Shawn had his tongue poking out of his mouth, and his knuckles were white from holding the pen too tight. He was writing a song and he was having some trouble. That’s how you found him after coming home from the grocery store. 

“Whatcha doing?” You asked, putting your head on his shoulder. 

“Writing a song.” He mumbled as he leaned into you.

Keep reading

“مثل أن تسمع الأغنية كاملة بسبب نبرة صوت محددة، أن تشاهد فيلماً لا تعرف اسماء أبطاله من أجل مشهد لخمس ثوان، أحبك مثل ذلك.”

it’s like listening to a whole song just to to hear a specific note, to watch a movie which you don’t know the name of it’s heroes just to see a 5 seconds scene, i love you like that.

places (MSA)

صيدلية pharmacy (saydalia)

مستشفى hospital (mostashfa)

مطار airport (matar)

محطة القطار train station (mahatet al-qitar)

مدرسة school (madrassa)

جامعة university (jamia’a)

مكتبة library (maktaba)

مطعم restaurant (mata’am)

سوق market (souq)

مقهى coffee shop (maqha)

متجر shop (matjar)

وسط المدينة downtown (wassat al-madina)

مكتب office (maktab)

منتزه park (montazah)

منزل home (manzil)

بنك bank (bank)

مسرح theatre (masrah)

قاعة سينما cinema (qaa’it cinema)

___هل نذهب إلى  Shall we go to ____? (hal nad’hab ila___)

____لنلتقي في  Let’s meet at ____. (li naltaqi fi _____) 

____أنا قادم(ة) إلى. I’m coming to (the) ____.(ana qadim(a) ila ____)


Happy Christmas to you!

Happy Christmas to you!!

Happy Christmas to @dogs-on-logs​ followers!