#give Amir a loving family

[cartoonrival]

most of us have a choice about how often we visit our families, but that is a luxury not granted to the families of those trapped in gaza, which has become an open-air prison under constant bombardment for more than a year. instead, separated from their loved ones and unable to hold them close, their only option is to turn to strangers online and convince them that the suffering is bad enough for people to help.

pictured are malak and amir, the young children of ahmed and iman. ahmed has been trying to raise money for his family from egypt to reunite with his family. he has been separated from them for almost a year, and can only see his children through photos.

please, please share this post to help ahmed's brother in law, mohammed, get surgery on his arm, which was injured in the war. the funds will also help the family afford to continue to live in gaza, and eventually escape the conflict and see ahmed again.

even $5, $10 will make a difference. skip buying a coffee today and send that money to a family who is trying desperately to stay together.

Palestine will be free, and until that day comes it is the obligation of those of us who are lucky enough to be outside of Gaza to give our love, support, and donations to those being terrorized by the occupation.

@mohammedatallaah

vetted by 90-ghost

[userautumn]

i love 9-1-1 but they need to STOP giving me civilian characters i fall in love with and never see again!!!!! jem, amir, fernanda, the driving instructor lesbians from season 5, the dad who tried to go back into the highrise to get his daughter in season 2, the families of the two mistaken identity girls from season 5, charlie (shooting) but also charlie (grenade in the leg), "heart of a champion" jeff, the son of the dad who got cut in half on the motorcycle, the girls whose mom fell and died like. GOD. please let me know how they're doing, i'm asking sooooo super duper nicely 🥺🥺🥺

[paimonial-rage]

symbiosis - tighnari

[random writing event] | requested by @milkstore

“N-No, it’s not that. It’s… It’s symbiosis!” You exclaimed the moment the word came to mind.

“‘Symbiosis…’” He repeated, deadpan.

“Y-Yes!” You stuttered. “We have a symbiotic relationship!”

“A ‘symbiotic relationship,’” he repeated once again flatly.

You laughed nervously.

He didn’t believe you at all.

“Look, okay, just listen. For example, uhm, mushrooms. Mushrooms are an example of our symbiosis.”

He looked just about ready to leave the room at that point.

“Hear me out,” you continued with a nervous laugh. “I don’t like mushrooms while you like mushrooms. That’s why I sit next to you at dinners because I can give you my mushrooms. You benefit by getting more mushrooms, (I mean, everyone knows how much you love them), and I benefit by not getting known as the environmentally unfriendly forest ranger that wastes their food. It’s symbiosis!”

“Uh… huh…” he finally replied, exasperation finely intertwined in his voice.

“Oh, but I’m not done yet!” You abruptly announced once another idea came to mind. “You see, there’s also… People. Yes, you don’t like people while I do. That’s why I opt to work with you so much. You benefit because you don’t have to deal with irritating travelers coming your way asking dumb questions while I benefit by filling my social battery and meeting people from across Teyvat! Isn’t that rather symbiotic?”

He sighed at that point, massaging his temples in annoyance.

“That’s not actually–”

“Wait, I have one more!” You cried, your hands out so as to stop him from walking away.

He sighed.

“Fine. What is it?”

“Another way we are symbiotic is with lunch!” You declared as confidently as you could. “As you know, I come from a big family, so whenever I make my lunch for the day, I always make too much. You are the first person I see everyday, so that’s why I always give the extras to you. You benefit by getting a free lunch and I benefit by, once again, becoming a model forest ranger by not wasting food!

“This is why, while people like Nasrin and Amir say that I have a huge crush on you, in actuality, it only seems like that because we naturally benefit each other like in a well-functioning symbiotic relationship! Nothing more than that!”

Your breath came heavy in your chest as you finished your magnificent speech. Did you say that whole thing in one breath? You weren’t sure. Regardless, if it wasn’t clear at the start, your point should have been made by now. Granted, Tighnari’s exhausted expression wasn’t the most promising, but you had no plans to go back on your word.

But seeing that you were finally done, Tighnari finally stopped massaging his forehead and turned his attention to you once more. Placing his fists against his hips, he let out a deep breath so as to calm his nerves. He then looked straight into your eyes with an intensity that pinned you to where you stood.

“So you don’t have feelings for me?” He asked, though it felt more as a statement than anything else.

“No.”

“Are you positive?”

You grinned.

“Absolutely! It’s just good ol symbiosis at work!”

You couldn’t help but gulp nervously as his eyes narrowed searching you even more. But once he had his answer, his eyes shut as he let out a disappointed sigh.

“Well, that’s a shame,” he let out with a resigned shrug of his shoulders. “I have feelings for you, but I guess you don’t feel the same. I suppose I’ll just have to give up.”

And with that, he then turned and walked away, not even giving you a chance to process his words. But once you did, panic dropped straight into your gut. Nearly tripping over yourself, you scrambled after him.

“W-Wait! I’m sorry, I was lying. No, come back, just hear me out! Tighnari!!!!!”

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Napoleonville [Chapter 5: The Haunted House]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, smoking, drinking, drugs, infidelity, kids, parenthood, Adventures With Aegon, Targ family dysfunction, bodily injury, no Willis this time yay!!! 🥳

Word Count: 7.3k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @toodlesxcuddles @era127 @at-a-rax-ia @0eessirk8 @arcielee @dd122004dd @humanpurposes @taredhunter @tinykryptonitewerewolf @partnerincrime0 @dr-aegon @persephonerinyes @namelesslosers @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @daenysx @gemini-mama @chattylurker @moonlightfoxx @huramuna @britt-mf @myspotofcraziness @padfooteyes @aemonddtargaryen @trifoliumviridi @joliettes @darkenchantress @florent1s @babyblue711 @minttea07 @libroparaiso @bluerskiees @herfantasyworldd @elizarbell @urmomsgirlfriend1 @fudge13 @strangersunghoon

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 🥰🧁

Every house is haunted, not just by phantoms of the past but by the ghosts of what could have been. They live in shadows, in doorways, in the periphery of your vision; you walk through them like smoke or mist. Their blood—pooled and pulseless—is a cold spot in a sweltering room, their fingerprints are the woodgrain swirls of floorboards. If you listen closely, you can hear them at night in the chorus of the cicadas and the owls and the wet westbound wind. They whisper questions you’ve never been able to answer: Have I made the right choices? Have I done the best I could? Is love a myth or does it only exist for other people? Am I a prisoner of the past or the future or myself? Why have I never been chosen?

In the bathtub, you stare at the pale blue walls veined with cracks like the legs of a spider. On the tree swing in the front yard—here long before you moved in, inherited from the effort and care of another family’s hands—you skim your bare feet over emerald blades of grass and watch the lightning bugs appear at dusk. In Cadi’s room, you play the Nintendo when she asks and try to forget who gave it to her; and when she asks about Aemond, you say he’s busy with work, because how else can you explain his absence to a child? In the kitchen, you break eggs into glass bowls of vanilla, sugar, flour, butter, baking powder, but you keep getting pieces of shell in the mix, something that almost never happens anymore. You snap, grab an egg, pitch it against the refrigerator where it explodes into calcium carbonate shrapnel and sterile yellow gore.

Amir looks up, startled. Behind his rectangular tortoiseshell glasses, his eyes dart between you and the viscera that stains the refrigerator door. At last he says softly, seriously: “What is it you liked so much about him?” Implicit in this statement are others: You’ve never liked a man this much. You’ll never see Aemond again.

You study your palms, tools of creation, tools that destroy. “I spend every second of my life consumed by responsibilities. The house, the car, the bakery, the bills, Cadi, Willis, myself, even you. There’s no one to tell me what the right thing to do is. There’s no one who can carry the weight for me. I can’t show it when I’m tired or frustrated or scared. And so to have someone who—even for an hour, even for fifteen minutes—could take care of me, and make all the decisions, and convince me to trust him…it’s the closest I ever get to being at peace.”

Amir gives you a sad, vanishingly small smile. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too.” And you wet a dishcloth so you can begin to clean up your mess.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Thursday, and you’re coming home after delivering cakes for a birthday party down in Thibodaux. Your car radio is blaring Message In A Bottle by The Police. When you roll into the gravel driveway, the red Audi Quattro is waiting for you: parked right beside the house, like he belongs here, like he owns it. You throw open the door of your Chevy Celebrity and rage up the sloping, groaning steps of the front porch.

The first thing that hits you is the cold. There is an ambient humming, a chill that raises goosebumps on your bare arms. When you rush to the kitchen, you find an air conditioning unit in one of the windows, a metal box that turns the Fall-Down House into a tundra. They’re sitting at the hastily-cleared counter: Aemond leafing through the ledger book containing the financial records for the bakery, Amir beside him sipping a glass of sweet tea. Aemond glances up at you and then back down at the pale green pages, the lines of his face intense, focused. Amir greets you with a nervous titter, hiding behind his sweet tea. Ice jangles in the glass.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Our new air conditioner!” Amir says, overjoyed. “The customers are going to love it. No more waiting around in a stifling kitchen. You know how miserable it gets in here during the summer. We won’t be able to get rid of them! They’ll be purchasing cupcakes by the dozen just to have an excuse to get out of the heat!”

Aemond is still scrutinizing the ledger. “Why aren’t you buying in bulk?” he asks Amir. “The shelf life on things like sugar and flour has got to be six months at least.”

“We don’t have the liquid capital. We can’t spend cash if we don’t have cash.”

“And all these business expenses—mixers, coolers, pans, blenders, knives, the gas you burn when you make deliveries, the water you use to wash dishes—those are all tax write-offs, right?”

Amir hesitates. Aemond is aghast, his eyebrows shooting up into the blonde hair that shags over his forehead. The strands are damp with sweat and curling at the edges; he’s been working hard. He’s the one who heaved the air conditioner up onto the window ledge. His Marlboro jacket is draped over the back of his barstool. He’s wearing jeans, a black MTV t-shirt, and his Adidas sneakers.

“Please tell me you haven’t been paying income tax on money you aren’t actually keeping.”

“I didn’t know what we were allowed to write off, I was petrified to make a mistake! I don’t want to end up in Rikers!”

“They don’t put people in Rikers for tax evasion. You’d only go to minimum security.”

Amir rolls his eyes. “Well now you’ve convinced me.”

You are betrayed, furious. “You’re showing him the book?”

“He’s very bossy,” Amir says, slurping his sweet tea. “As you know.”

Aemond asks you, making notes on a legal pad he’s commandeered: “Do you have an IRA?”

“A what?”

“An IRA,” Aemond repeats slowly, emphasizing every syllable. “An individual retirement account.”

Should I? Could I? What the hell is that? “Um. I don’t think so.”

Aemond sighs, exasperated. He jots down another bullet point on his legal pad. “You need one.”

“I need you to get out of my house.”

“Shh!” Amir pleads. “He bought us an air conditioner!”

“Do you know how much that’s going to cost us in electricity? The bill is going to go through the roof. We’re not going to be able to afford this. And he doesn’t care, because he hasn’t even thought of it. Drop an oil rig into a lake and solve the unemployment crisis. Throw an air conditioner in a window and buy someone’s loyalty. He doesn’t understand us. He doesn’t care about us. He’s not capable of it.”

“I’ll pay for the electricity,” Aemond says. Now he’s looking at you.

“Get out,” you demand.

He seems—perplexingly—to be genuinely wounded. “I’m trying to help you.”

“Get out!”

Aemond stands, walks to you, backs you up until your shoulder blades hit the refrigerator. The metal door is cluttered with Cadi’s drawings, secured there with multicolored alphabet magnets: dinosaurs eating people, Rambo, astronauts rocketing to the moon, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Aemond is so close you can smell the cigarette smoke and cologne and sweat on him, see the smudges of ink on his fingers. His right eye travels all over you, defiant and hungry. His left eye—and you only notice when there’s no space left between you—is an impassive, glassy, not-quite-identical blue that never moves. It’s an imposter, and a very good one; but it’s not him. You think, unable to say it: What happened to your face? Who hurt you? Instead you strike out to shove Aemond away with both hands.

“Get out of my house—!”

“You want to get rough with me? Will that make you feel better?” he murmurs darkly, ignoring your palms when they collide with his chest, his collarbones, his jaw. Your flesh can’t hurt him, it can only graze his skin like stray bullets. “You want to hit me? Go ahead. I’ve had worse. I promise you I have.”

“I hate you!”

But you haven’t said the right word, and you both know it. He grabs your wrists, holds them still, whispers low and menacing into your ear as you struggle to rip your hands out of his grasp. “I dreamed about you all night. Tying you down, stretching you open. I want that. I think you do too.”

“I don’t want it,” you hiss; but already you’re imagining him on top of you, inside you, in control of you, and to resist that is like trying to fight the instinct to seek water, sleep, sunlight.

“Then tell me to stop.”

You glare up at Aemond, raging, burning. His gaze locks with yours and stays there. You are suddenly aware of the heat of his fingers linked around your wrists, of the pressure of his hips against yours as he pins you to the refrigerator. You can’t say it. I don’t want him to stop touching me. I don’t want him to leave and never come back.

Again, Aemond dares you: “Tell me to stop.”

From the kitchen counter, Amir is gawking at you both, his eyes huge, stunned, painfully uncomfortable. Nonetheless, he doesn’t look away. “I’m not leaving,” he informs Aemond. Just in case you’re weak enough to agree to something you’ll regret later; just in case you need a friend.

The spell breaks, the curse lifts. Aemond releases you and takes several steps back. He breathes deeply, running his fingers through his damp hair, composing himself. “You’re a good person,” he says to Amir.

“Thanks. I’m afraid I can’t return the compliment.”

Aemond turns back to you. Now he’s penitent, measured. Already, a part of you misses the weight of his bones on yours. But that’s not why Aemond is here. “Let me talk. Let me explain.”

No, you almost say. I’m not interested. I don’t want you anymore. There’s nothing you can tell me that will make me feel at peace with you again.

Instead, after long moments colored by waning sunlight and the whirring of the new air conditioner in the window: “Okay.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re on the tree swing, gripping the ropes and swaying slightly back and forth as you push off with your bare feet, rocking from your heels to your toes and then back again. Aemond lights a cigarette and takes a drag as he sits cross-legged on the grass in front of you. Amir keeps peeking out from between the blinds of the living room windows. Aemond glances around the yard, and you realize he’s searching for the alligator. His Marlboro jacket is folded neatly on the ground next to him.

“The gator’s not here right now, Aemond. She’s probably over in the trees. She’s not going to hurt you.”

He nods, but he doesn’t seem convinced. He fidgets restlessly with his cigarette.

All that money, all that power, all that ecological ruin, and he’s petrified of a five-foot gator that’s probably never eaten anything bigger than a pelican. It’s ridiculous. You smile weakly. “I think you have a phobia.”

He gestures to his scar, to his ruined left eye. “I’m afraid one will sneak up on me and I won’t be able to see it.”

He’s never spoken like this to you before, acknowledging his limitations, his impairment. He’s trying to be honest. He really is. “Where’s Christabel?”

“Back in the U.K.”

“When are you getting married?”

He shrugs, uninterested. “A few months from now, I guess. July. August. It doesn’t matter. I’m not really involved in the planning.”

“You’re a cheater,” you say. It comes out less accusatory than mournful. Why did you have to disappoint me? Why did you have to ruin this?

Aemond is dismissive. He puffs on his cigarette. “Everyone cheats.”

“No they don’t.”

“Everyone from my world cheats,” Aemond amends. “You marry for money or status or land or whatever, to prove you can snag someone who should be above you, to make your parents proud of you, to make sure your children have the right last name and titles. Then when the novelty fades—and it does, it always does—you find passion elsewhere.”

“That’s barbaric.”

“That’s aristocratic. Poor people get divorced two or three times. They have public brawls and call the cops on each other. We just have a different solution to life’s inevitabilities. My mother cheats with Criston, Daemon and Rhaenyra cheated with each other, I cheat with you, Aegon cheats with…I couldn’t even list them. A lot of people.”

Aegon. So that’s the debaucherous brother’s name. “Not all fancy rich people cheat. Prince Charles doesn’t cheat.”

Aemond bursts out laughing. “Of course he does! He’s been fucking Camilla Parker Bowles since like 1970!”

Your stomach sinks. Poor Diana. “I thought they were just friends now.”

“Yeah, sure, that’s what the tabloids say.” He inhales smoke—cancerous, lethal—and then exhales it in a grey gale like fog. “I think they stopped for a few years after he got married. But presently they spend as much time as they possibly can rendezvousing at all their friends’ country estates. Charles and Diana are miserable, but they’ll never split up. She’s entertaining herself with a cavalry officer named James Hewitt. Who looks suspiciously like Prince Harry, by the way.”

“And who does your father fuck on the side? Nancy Reagan?”

“He prefers the memory of a dead woman to my living mother. I’d say that counts as infidelity.”

The photograph Aegon showed me on the Targaryens’ refrigerator. Rhaenyra’s mother. And what else had been on that refrigerator? Pictures of the rest of the family? Old sketches and report cards? Souvenirs? A calendar with upcoming birthdays circled or starred? No. There was nothing. You consider Aemond with a disorienting blend of pity and barbed, venomous frustration. “I’m sorry Viserys has never been a good father to you. But that’s not an excuse to ruin other people’s lives.”

“Look, what you did…” Aemond begins with sizable effort. He puts the end of his cigarette out on the sole of one of his Adidas sneakers. “To walk away from something you believe isn’t right when everyone else is telling you to stay…that’s not easy. And maybe for you it didn’t feel so insurmountable because you’ve had to learn how to survive painful things on your own before. But all I’ve ever done was break my own bones so my father would notice me. I don’t mean that as a metaphor. I’ve fractured my ribs, my hands, my skull. And it’s still not enough. Love isn’t given in my family. I have to earn it. It’s all I know.”

“You could learn something new.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t. I won’t. That’s not a language I speak.”

Exactly how bad of a father was Viserys Targaryen? “Aemond, what happened to your face?”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

You study him. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to be my Camilla,” Aemond says.

“No. No way.” But you’re amazed by how badly you want to say yes. One word and he’ll touch me again? One word and I can have him back the way we were before? It doesn’t seem possible to resist that. It’s not something that should be expected of any mortal.

“I want to be around you. I want you to keep making me feel the way you do, because it’s…it’s…it’s not something I get from anyone else. And I want to make your life better. I have the ability to do that.”

“Because you’re an oil tycoon.”

“Yes,” Aemond agrees. “I was born to be one, and so I am. But even if I wasn’t—if I refused, if I died—it’s not like the trillion-dollar industry would just disappear. There’s Jade Dragon, sure, but there’s also ExxonMobil, Shell, British Petroleum, Chevron, Valero, Marathon, a hundred others. Someone would be drilling on Lake Verret regardless. But the person in charge might be less scrupulous than I am. I’m doing the best I can here.”

“Were you in Ketchikan when the spill happened there?”

“No. I’ve never been to Alaska. That was someone else’s project. It was a fuckup, it was Jade Dragon’s fault. But my father is the one fighting it in court. I have no control over that.”

Someone else’s project…

“Come to my house tonight,” he says.

“No, Aemond.”

“Then come over on Saturday.” And you think: He remembered which days Cadi is usually with Willis.

“I don’t want to be your mistress.” I want to be more than that, oh God, I want so much more. You think of Christabel touching him and wrenching nausea cuts through you like a blade. You imagine Aemond’s hands taking off her clothes—zippers, buttons, ribbons, belts—and you feel like there’s almost nothing you wouldn’t do to stop it from happening.

“We’re from two very different words,” Aemond says calmly, sensibly. “And it’s going to be impossible for us to understand each other unless we make an effort to learn about where we’ve come from. You’ve invited me into your home, your business, your family, and I’m very grateful for that. Now I need to do the same. And I think if you see more of my life, you’ll realize why I make the decisions I do and what it would mean for us to be together. Because in my experience, husbands and wives aren’t soulmates like they are in books or movies. It’s someone else who you actually…” He breaks off, then continues once he’s decided on the phrasing. “Spend most of your time with.”

Part of you knows that this arrangement would be hopelessly inadequate; you would feel like you were settling for less than you want, you would feel unchosen. But the louder part of you is clinging to it like a life raft. I want him to touch me again. I want him to make me forget about everything else. “I’ll think about it. Visiting the house, I mean.”

“Please do,” Aemond says. “How was Cadi’s weekend fishing?”

He really does listen to you; he remembers things. Even things you mention once and then never again. “She loved it. Willis knows more about the bayou than I’ll ever know about baking. They caught three catfish, four breams, and a bass, and then they made them into fish sticks. Thank God she has one parent who can cook. Even if Willis thinks Hungry Jack mashed potatoes are a vegetable. You know what he puts in the pot instead of milk? Coffee creamer. Cups of it.”

Aemond doesn’t seem pleased to be reminded of Willis’ existence. He says, rather mechanically: “I’m really glad Cadi enjoyed herself.” He grabs his Marlboro jacket, rises to his feet, scans the yard for the alligator. She’s made an appearance at last: she’s sunbathing about ten yards away, nowhere near close enough to be a nuisance. Still, Aemond frowns. Then he clears his face and looks back to you one last time as he strides towards his Audi Quattro. “And Cupcake?”

You peer up at him, shielding your eyes from the late-afternoon sun. “Yeah?”

“When you come to the house…” He grins. Not if. When. “Bring your swimsuit.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You cut the engine and survey the grand entranceway of the house that the Targaryens call The Last Desire, words in Greek that you couldn’t pronounce. The blue merle Great Dane—Vhagar, you recall, yet another bizarre foreign name—is lurking between the towering white columns of the wraparound porch. “Fantastic,” you mutter, stepping out of the car. It’s Saturday, 2 p.m., hot and muggy and cicadas screeching in the southern live oaks. Green anoles dart across the cobblestones and freshly-painted white wood of the porch. Whooping cranes, haughty and fragile, ogle you with reptilian yellow eyes.

You pause when you reach the bottom step of the porch. The Great Dane growls at you, her lips curling up to show long fanglike teeth. You’re carrying two bakery boxes stacked on top of each other: one contains a dozen blueberry pie cupcakes, the second filled with fresh Cap’n Crunch Treats. You glance around for someone to assist you with the hostile dog situation. You have no interest in attempting to shove her away like Alicent did on the day of the engagement party.

Blessedly, the head butler materializes in the doorway and beckons you inside. When Vhagar snarls as you approach, the butler pulls a small plastic water gun from the pocket of his black dress pants. “I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience,” he tells you, and then squirts the dog several times. Vhagar reluctantly lopes away. “Please allow me to escort you to the pool. Mr. Targaryen instructed us to be on the lookout for you.” Then he breezes into the house without checking to make sure you’re following him.

You trot after the butler through the white-and-gold foyer, the deep red living room, and then out into the garden. There is a long row of neon green lounge chairs on the side of the pool opposite of the water slide. Three of the chairs are occupied. Helaena is stretched across one wearing a frilly one-piece, floral with ladybugs; her chameleon is perched on the top of the adjustable backrest. Alicent is in the chair beside her, dressed in a turquoise blue coverup that matches the pool water and reading The Silence of the Lambs. They both wave nonchalantly, seemingly unsurprised by your presence. And then there’s Aegon. He’s smoking a joint as a black boombox beside him plays The Cure’s Why Can’t I Be You? You place both bakery boxes on a table shielded from the sun by a large green umbrella.

“What’s in there?” Aegon asks. He’s wearing pink plastic sunglasses, a radiant fuchsia sunburn, and a Speedo patterned with pineapples. His ferret is curled up in his lap and napping.

“Blueberry pie cupcakes and Cap’n Crunch Treats.”

“Yes! Pass me one of each.”

“Don’t be rude, Aegon,” Alicent says dully, turning a page of her book. “She’s not a servant.”

“She’s a literal baker. I’m asking for baked goods.”

“Dear, I’ve been singing your praises to every single person I cross paths with in this jungle of a town,” Alicent tells you, ignoring him. “Have you noticed yet?”

You hand Aegon his treats; he marvels at the miniature blueberry pie placed atop the cupcake frosting before scarfing it down. “I think we’ve had more customers than usual this week, now that you mention it. Thank you so much! Amir and I are more grateful than we could ever express.”

“Oh, it’s the least I could do, love,” Alicent says. Criston appears with a strawberry daiquiri and gives it to her, complete with a swirl of whipped cream and a little pink toothpick umbrella pierced through a wedge of lime. Criston wears a pair of roomy Hawaiian board shorts and his single gold earring. Alicent takes a sip. “Heavenly! I am completely revived.”

“Helaena, would you like one?” Criston asks.

“Yes please.”

“And one for Aemond’s friend too, please,” Alicent says. Criston nods and hurries off again. Nobody asks if Aegon wants a strawberry daiquiri. He gnaws moodily at his cupcake and then when it’s gone moves on to the Cap’n Crunch Treat. Helaena’s chameleon snatches a dragonfly out of the air with its tongue. Alicent shudders.

Aemond’s friend? Friend?? You sit down on the lounge chair next to Aegon, still wearing your pale pink coverup. He tells you: “Aemond should be back soon. He got a phone call and had to swing by the rigs after lunch but he didn’t think it would take long.” Then Aegon smiles toothily, and you notice he has residual white powder around the corners of his lips and just inside his nostrils. “It’s good to meet you properly this time, now that I’m aware of all your talents.”

“You know about Aemond’s…uh…preferences?”

“Oh yeah, and I knew he had a girl. He always has to have a girl. I just didn’t know it was you. He doesn’t usually bring them around the family.”

You steal a glimpse of Alicent and Helaena. If they’re listening in, they’re doing an excellent job of not acting like they are.

“I think we should address this,” Aegon says.

You are stymied. “Address what?”

“It would never work, me and you.”

“I hadn’t even thought of it.”

“Sure you haven’t,” Aegon says. He flourishes a hand melodramatically. “You need a dom. I am, lamentably, an irredeemable sub. I’m a sheep in wolf’s clothing.”

“Okay, Aegon.”

“I just needed to break the tension.”

“I think you’re imagining that.”

There are footsteps, the slapping of flip flops against the cobblestones, and then someone who looks like a younger, more cheerful, more sober Aegon arrives at the pool. He is dressed in royal blue swim trunks that stop at his mid-thigh; his wavy blond hair is down to his shoulders. Like his family members, he also does not seem at all surprised to see you. “Hi,” he says, shaking your hand. “I’m Daeron. I didn’t get to introduce myself at the engagement party. I’m sorry about that. I was entangled in a very competitive tennis match on the courts out back for most of the day.”

Alicent asks: “Daeron, love, would you like a strawberry daiquiri when Criston reappears?”

“Yeah, Mum, that would be great.” He parks himself on the available chair beside her and begins asking about her book. As they chat, a blue macaw flaps through the garden and uses its long, leathery talons to claim the backrest of Daeron’s lounge chair.

“It’s so sweet of you to take an interest in my reading, Daeron,” Alicent gushes. “None of my other children ever do…”

Aegon groans loudly. Everyone ignores him. Criston arrives with two strawberry daiquiris, one for you and one for Helaena. You take a sip through a plastic straw with several loops in it: icy cold and jarringly sweet.

“And one for Daeron too please, Criston,” Alicent requests. “Did you hear that he just got another article published? It’s about evaluating rock wettability.” Her tone suggests that she has no idea what this means; nonetheless, she is ardently enthusiastic.

“That kid is going places,” Criston says admiringly.

Aegon counters: “That kid’s had phone sex with Michelle Pfeiffer.”

You laugh, thinking that it’s a joke. Daeron just gives you a sheepish smile. Oh, you think. Not a joke.

Criston hustles back inside the house. An old man passes Criston as he strolls out to the pool. He looks around blearily, like he’s hungover or has just woken up from a nap or both. His bloodshot eyes skate over you without much interest. He squints at the pool floats that bob in the rippling, crystalline water, sparkly rings and an assortment of foam noodles and a giant cartoonish alligator.

“How was Kiribati?” Aegon says.

“Much better than here. This goddamn humidity!”

“I can’t believe you missed the engagement party, Father,” Alicent says glumly.

“Oh no, how could I! I’ll never have any way of knowing what transpired!” He plops down onto a chair near the end of the row. His bare feet are gnarled, his toenails long and yellowed. “Let me guess. Cake was served, champagne was toasted, people bragged about their stupid hobbies and their ugly children, that girl scuttled about with her perpetually-startled eyes and asinine comments. Do you remember when she tried to give me her condolences when she learned your mother passed away years ago? Why would I want some moonstruck idiot’s condolences? She didn’t know your mother. She doesn’t know anything.”

“Christabel is very young,” Alicent offers gently.

“She’s very something, that’s for sure. Very useless. Very irritating. This family would be in a much better state if Viserys wasn’t the one making all the decisions. His judgment has declined precipitously.” He casts a poisonous glare at Aegon. Aegon pretends not to notice.

“I like Christabel,” Helaena says. Her chameleon gobbles up a butterfly that ventures too close.

“Yes, I’m sure you do.” The old man’s voice is kinder now. “You see the best in everyone. But dear Helaena, we are in for a lifetime of insipid simpers and vapid conversations.”

“A lifetime?” Aegon says. “So not much longer for you, Grandfather. What a comfort.”

The old man glowers at Aegon. “We should have left you in Alaska to have your throat slit by those animals.” And you hear Aemond’s words reverberating in your skull: I’ve never been to Alaska. That was someone else’s project.

Aegon is rolling himself a fresh joint, accidentally spilling sprinkles of weed on his slumbering ferret. He snorts. “I don’t care what Alaskans think of me.”

Daeron says: “Aegon, you poisoned 1,000 square miles of the ocean.”

“The fucking ocean,” Aegon mutters. “What do we even need the ocean for?”

“Vacations,” Otto says.

Helaena adds: “Sushi.”

Daeron is distressed. “Actually, the ocean is super important.”

“Why are we talking about the ocean?” Aemond asks as he strolls through the garden and pauses by the edge of the pool to dip a foot in to test the temperature. He’s wearing black swim trunks and nothing else, just his skin, just his scar and his glass left eye. He sees you, smiles, goes to the bakery boxes and lifts out a cupcake. He sits down on the edge of your lounge chair as he licks off the wave-blue frosting. No one makes any comment, and no one brings up Aegon’s role in the Ketchikan oil spill again.

Criston returns once more with a strawberry daiquiri for Daeron. “Well, I’ve just about killed the blender, so hopefully we don’t need any more—”

“But Criston!” Alicent cries. “What about Aemond and my father? Perhaps they are in need of refreshments.”

Criston sighs. Crestfallen, he looks at Aemond. “Do you want a strawberry daiquiri?”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll just have a few sips of hers.”

Aegon says: “Can I get a pina colada?”

Criston turns towards the old man. “Otto? Daiquiri?”

“No, but if you could immediately teleport me back to the South Pacific, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Pina colada??” Aegon says again.

“Okay, Aegon,” Criston snaps. “Calm down. Let me figure out if we have any more coconut cream.” Alicent’s part-time bodyguard and personal assistant, part-time babysitter, part-time affair partner vanishes into the house yet again.

Aegon lurches to his feet. “No one listens to me,” he tells you morosely. “You see that? No one remembers. That’s how you know they don’t care.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Alicent tells Aegon, not looking up from her book.

“Wait, someone is missing…” Otto muses, stroking his beard.

Aegon staggers to the edge of the pool, drags over a sparkly turquoise inflatable ring, and flops onto it. He paddles himself out towards the center of the pool. His ferret bounds after him, leaps into the water, and swims until it reaches Aegon, wriggling through the blue like a golden-furred snake. “Hey Sunfyre, you wanted to come too?” Aegon lifts the soaked ferret from the water and places it on his chest, soft and sunburned. “My bad. I assumed you’d prefer dry land.”

Otto—cantankerous and grating—looks around, baffled. “Wait, where’s Viserys?”

“He’s inspecting some of the rigs out in the Gulf of Mexico,” Aemond says as he finishes the cupcake and takes a slurp of your daiquiri. “He won’t be back until the end of the week.”

“Thank God,” Aegon exclaims from the middle of the pool.

Alicent changes the subject. “How long have you been baking, dear?” she asks you.

“Forever, basically. But I started getting serious about making it a business when my daughter was really young, about nine years ago. Now Amir and I sell hundreds of items a week, sometimes thousands.”

Daeron is nodding along, but he appears a little confused. He has gotten himself a Cap’n Crunch Treat and is feeding pieces of it to his blue macaw. “And you do that because…you want to?”

“Well I have to pay rent.”

“Oh. Right. Of course.”

“And I could have been a checkout girl at the Doller General, or worked seasonally harvesting soybeans or sugarcane, or begged my ex-husband to get me a job in the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office…but I wanted to do something that didn’t make me miserable. And something that was really mine, that I chose.” Aemond is watching you thoughtfully. The other Targaryens are a tad interested but far more perplexed. They can’t understand work the way you do. They can’t understand money as something that must be counted.

“Brilliant!” Alicent declares at last. “Well, maybe one day we’ll have you making six cakes for Helaena’s engagement party, who knows!”

“It would be my absolute pleasure. Do you have a potential husband hanging around, Helaena?”

She giggles, covering her blushing face with both hands. Her chameleon creeps down to cling to her shoulder, as if to make sure she’s alright. Its conical eyes flit in random directions, an unmitigated freak of nature. You should have more compassion for it.

Aemond grins. “Helaena is responsible for no less than three broken engagements. She can’t commit.”

“And she’s only into guys who look like Aegon,” Daeron adds.

“No!” Helaena objects. “That is such a lie, that’s not true!”

“Evander?” Daeron says.

Helaena pauses to think. “Okay, yes, he looked kind of like Aegon.”

“He did, didn’t he?” Alicent frets, nibbling at the fingernail of her pinky.

“Dimitri?” Aemond says.

“Oh no,” Helaena moans; but she’s laughing too. “Oh no.”

“Sebastian?” Aegon says, and now they’re all howling.

Otto shakes his head. “Freud would definitely have some thoughts about this.”

“Bloody hell,” Helaena whimpers, swiping tears from her face. Her chameleon nudges her jaw with its shimmering, blue-green muzzle. “I totally only date guys who look like Aegon.”

Aegon shrugs from where he’s floating in the pool with Sunfyre. “Good taste, I’d say. Fuck them all, homegirl.”

“Aegon!” Alicent shouts, scandalized.

Criston dashes out of the house and to the edge of the pool, clutching a pina colada that is swiftly melting. “You better paddle yourself over here, kid. I don’t offer in-water delivery.”

“You’d do it for my mother.”

“Probably. But you’re not her.”

Aegon groans as he splashes around without making much progress. “Okay, okay, give me a second…”

Aemond turns to you. “How do you like the house? I realized I never got the chance to ask last weekend.”

“I like all the stained glass, and I like that every room is a different color. The living room is red, the dining room is yellow, the kitchen is teal, Aegon’s bedroom is black—”

“Wait, how do you know?” Aemond is alarmed.

You chuckle. “No, no, not like that. I was lost and looking for a bathroom.”

“Didn’t do anything,” Aegon announces from his pool float. “Didn’t do it, didn’t try it, didn’t even think about it. Well…maybe I thought about it. But I definitely did not do anything.”

“Okay.” Aemond exhales, relived. “Close call.”

“What color is your room?”

He’s not going to waste the opportunity to extend an invitation. “Let me show you.”

On the same floor as Aegon’s punk rock bedroom and the lilac bathroom, you trail Aemond to the end of the hallway. At last he opens a door to reveal a room that is a deep, vivid blue like sapphires. The bookshelves that touch the ceiling are filled not with texts on engineering or the energy industry but histories of people whose names you don’t recognize. He has a massive wooden canopy bed swathed in dark blue velvet patterned with circling koi fish made of stars. He has a writing desk, a wardrobe full of suits, a television with an extensive VHS collection. The stained glass windows are a whirlpool of cerulean, navy, aquamarine, indigo, steel, azure. When you peer through the glass, you can see the gleaming currents of Lake Verret and the twisted dead ends of the bayou that forms at its edges, treacherous and untamed.

And when you start to feel that if Aemond tried to grab you, undress you, tie knots around your wrists you wouldn’t stop him, you tell him that you want to go back outside to the pool; and Aemond listens, and he doesn’t try to touch you even once.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Monday, two days later, and Aemond calls to ask if he can bring you and Cadi dinner. He shows up with all the trappings of what he insists is real Italian food, doubtlessly prepared by his family’s private chefs: focaccia, caprese salad, ossobuco, risotto, Bolognese, panna cotta. He forgets the red wine, so you drink sweet tea instead, the three of you crowded around the kitchen counter, ceaselessly passing dishes back and forth while the little pink Panasonic boombox plays You Spin Me Round by Dead Or Alive.

“Hey Mom?” Cadi says as she chomps on a hunk of focaccia.

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you ever cook dinners like this?”

There’s a tiny little gut punch, something you’re used to swallowing down even if it bruises you to the heart, to the bones. She doesn’t know any better. You can’t cry, you can’t get mad. You shrug, dispassionate. Aemond glances over at you, abruptly tense but not saying anything. “Well honey, it’s probably because my job can be really busy sometimes, and I spend most of the day in the kitchen, so when dinner time comes around the last thing I want to do is cook. But we always have food to eat, right?”

“Yeah. Like Amir’s leftovers or frozen pizza or something. But all my friends’ moms cook nice dinners most nights. Can’t you do that? When I go to Michelle or Erica’s house for dinner their moms make barbeque ribs, gumbo, seafood boils, etouffee, tasso ham, homemade macaroni and cheese, like real dinners. I want us to have that too. What if my friends want to eat dinner here sometime? I can’t bring them over and then just throw some Swanson’s meals at them.”

Aemond has put his fork down on his plate and is clasping his hands together, trying to figure out what to say. But he shouldn’t say anything. It’s not his place.

You tell Cadi, as calmly as you can: “Different families have different kinds of dinners, and that’s okay. I bet your friends’ moms don’t have cakes and cookies around all the time, but you always have tons of dessert options. Our situation looks different than theirs, but there’s nothing wrong with either one.”

“But desserts aren’t even good for kids. Dinner is way more important. You can’t say I get cakes instead of dinner, too much cake will give me diseases or something.”

“Okay, Cadi. That’s enough. Let’s talk about this later.”

“I’m just saying it seems totally unfair that my friends get real dinners and I almost never do.”

Michelle and Erica’s moms don’t work. They have husbands to support them. So they can spend all day babying a fucking tasso ham, but I don’t have that luxury. And I don’t want to be chained to a man. I don’t want to trade having a say in how my life turns out for being able to slave away over dinner for four or five hours. “I regret to inform you that I’m not like Michelle and Erica’s moms.”

“I wish you were,” Cadi murmurs, entirely unaware of what she’s done. You bite your lower lip so you don’t snap at her, or try to explain, or break down sobbing. You taste blood, hot sharp copper that blooms like wildflowers.

Aemond stands up. His barstool squeals against the sloping wooden floor. “Hey, can I talk to you outside for a minute?” he asks Cadi.

“Aemond, what…?” you begin, but he’s already headed for the front door.

Cadi blinks up at him, horrified. “Why?”

“You’re not in trouble or anything. I just want to show you something. Come on. It’ll be quick.”

“Okay,” Cadi says doubtfully, looking at you. You give her your best reassuring smile, and she slides off her barstool and follows after Aemond. The front door opens and shuts. You don’t hear shouting, you don’t hear much of anything except the air conditioner and the boombox and the mourning doves, the long-eared owl, the cicadas, the bayou, the universe. You go to one of the living room windows and part the blinds to peek outside.

What you see is strange. Cadi is sitting on the swing, and Aemond is kneeling in front of her so they’re just about at the same eye level. You can see half of Aemond’s face; Cadi is blocking the rest. He’s explaining something to her with patient yet insistent gestures of his hands. Cadi says something, and Aemond nods and replies. He points to his scar, his glass eye, and says something else. Cadi asks a question, and Aemond hesitates. Then he acquiesces and moves closer to where she is perched on the tree swing. He reaches up towards the scarred side of his face, but you can’t see his eye. When he lowers his palm, there’s a small piece of curved, oval-shaped glass that glints in the dying sunlight.

“Cool!” you can hear Cadi exclaim, muffled through the windows that are now closed on account of the new air conditioning unit. She says something else, and Aemond agrees. You watch her hand extending towards his face, towards the injury he has revealed to her for reasons you can’t comprehend. You rush to other windows, trying to get a better view, but there’s no way for you to get a clear line of sight. Before you know it, your hear their footsteps drumming up the porch steps. The front door opens just as you’re scrambling back onto your barstool.

“Everything alright?” you say, more nervously than you intend to.

“Yup,” Cadi replies. She climbs into her seat and resumes wolfing down focaccia and Bolognese.

You look over at Aemond, bewildered. His glass eye is back in its socket. He appears composed, but you notice the fresh sheen of sweat on his forehead, at his temples, at the nape of his neck. He gives you a casual little smirk and then returns to his barstool. He picks up his full glass of sweet tea and drains it in three massive gulps.

“Hey Mom,” Cadi says, and your throat is suddenly full of embers.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Tonight is really fun,” she says. She twirls her fork in the pappardelle pasta of the Bolognese, splattering red sauce over her cheeks. “This is great. I want to do this more often.”

And the embers in your throat cool, vanish, are replaced by something vast and free.

“You really do need a new house,” Aemond says as he helps you clean up after dinner; Cadi has already abandoned you both for her Nintendo. “There are new constructions a little further down Route 401, between here and Lake Verret. Three bedrooms, two baths. Not a castle or anything, just the right size for you and Cadi. We can go look at them sometime.”

“I don’t need a whole new house. There are midcentury homes all over the place down here. They’re small, and they might need fixing up, but they’re a lot cheaper.” Then you add, because it sounds less pathetic: “And maybe it’s nice to have a house with some history, some character.”

“Old can be charming and quaint, sure. But brand new is better.”

“Why’s that?”

He smiles. “No ghosts.”

[opwolfe]

Bro ngl I need to write this but I got ZERO motivation rn (getting burnt out from classes :( it sucks) ((some slight spoilers in here, skip if you haven't gotten to like, idk, rank 4~5))

But like, the hex with a/b/o dynamics, I'm going insane over it rn so

Arthur - TBHHHH he gives me alpha vibes but I know for a fact he's more beta, like he's obviously the leader but he's also sooo like, NORMAL, like he's just a dude, there's nothing really "macho man" about him and I love that so much, definitely a beta but with some skills on the alpha tree barrowed

Eleanor - alpha 100000% you cannot fight me on this, that lady is the real leader of the pack there's absolutely nothing to doubt about that sentence, she's just sooo UGH y'know??? She brings the stability to the pack and takes care of them in a lot of ways

Lettie - she's a beta, ngl I don't pay too much attention to her but just based on the conversations we've had she gives me beta, MAYBE just MAYBE some slight omega vibes with her ferality on healing and taking care of people

Amir - you might question me on this, but he's an alpha, DEFINITELY more of a baby alpha (if we look at how young he is compared to the others) and is definitely more subservient to the others in the pack, he's just a little guy but is so very protective over the people he loves

Aoi - she's an omega, the only omega honestly, but she's more of a beta omega then an omega omega, she's such a complex character once you really know her, she rounds out the cast so well with how she's so serious but also really funny to be around, she brings them together in ways I can't even begin to describe, she also helps amir with feeling like he belongs and I love that

Quincy - beta/omega honestly, DONT HATE ME FOR THIS TAKE PLEASE 😭😭😭 it's just the way I perceived his backstory and how he got into the hex, he went into the military to support his family like [subtle crying] I LOVE HIMMM 😭😭😭 he just wanted to take care of his family and ended up getting turned into a protoframe because of it, while yeahh that COULD make him seem like an alpha, he cares so much about the people around him despite feeling like he shouldn't (see; make me hate u conversation), he goes out of his way to give amir the ability to do things non-violently and to help other people even though before they had their whole "ur like a brother to me" moment, he flat out thought amir wasn't supposed to be with them because he could get hurt or get them hurt, he's just so fucking complex and [braincell explodes] I can't even put it into words

This is just how I see them, someone else might have a COMPLETELY different look at them, but GAAADDD DAAMMMMMMNNNM I need to write this out or like, draw it idk, I need opinions on this pleeeeeassseee tell me what you think I BEG!!!!!

[webanglikethat]

Hello dear, I am Mohammed from Gaza. I hope you are well, dear. Please help me. Our tent was flooded while we were sleeping in the streets. We have no shelter. I cannot provide winter clothes for me and my mother to protect us from the cold that has started, and I cannot provide for the basic needs. Please help me. $50 is enough to buy a new tent and winter clothes. Please help me, dear. We live in very harsh conditions. We lost our father before the war and I support my elderly mother and my little siblings. I am in dire need of your donation. You are very aware, even if it is a little. I hope you can help me, dear. Dear, please do not let me down. We deserve life and we deserve your generosity and kindness. You are our lifeline, and with your generosity you give us life, even if it is a little, but you save us from injustice and the cursed war. It is our right and our basic right to live with some comfort and peace. Please do not ignore me. If you cannot help me, that is okay, but do not ignore me. Tell me you can't.

https://gofund.me/2fb33769

Hi!🙏

Even though I’m not in a position to donate at the moment, I’m here to amplify your voice. I truly hope that your story finds those who can offer meaningful support, whether through donations, sharing, or words of encouragement.

To everyone reading this: now is the time for collective compassion. Every small act of kindness matters, whether it’s a donation, a share, or simply a moment of empathy for what this family is going through. If you’re able to, please consider contributing or passing this message along. Together, even the smallest efforts can create waves of change for someone in need!

To you and your family, I want to extend my deepest hope for brighter days ahead. I hope you find solace in knowing that people are rallying behind you, that your bravery inspires others to step forward and help. I’m keeping you and your family in my thoughts. I’m wishing you peace, safety, and the strength to face what lies ahead with the same courage you’ve already shown. Opening a place to help others, even with limited resources, is such a selfless thing to do.

Sending all my love, strength, and compassion to you during this time. May your path ahead be filled with light, kindness, and the help you need to overcome these challenges.

Here’s the link again for anyone willing to assist:

[glorious-spoon]

9-1-1 Season 7 Post-Mortem

Mostly because I want to put my thoughts in order. Full disclosure: I'm really not thrilled with a lot of the choices this season made, but I'm also not at the 'fuck this show I hate it now' level either. The primary, overarching issue, IMO, is that they tried to stuff a full season's worth of plot into ten episodes, and the pacing and emotional continuity suffered badly. And also there were some writing choices that were simply deranged (and hopefully would have been reworked had they not been laying down the tracks in front of the speeding train, so to speak).

(Cut for me rambling at length)

So: Bobby and Athena were largely really solidly written. The cruise ship disaster was great: campy and OTT, but in a fun way. Their marital issues and the eventual resolution felt like a natural continuation of issues they've had in the past. Bobby Begins 3.0 was a great episode other than the cartel element, which was some ill-considered racial stereotyping (I've said it before and I'll say it again: you could have had the antagonists in that episode be a bunch of angry locals threatening people for tresspassing on their property, and the whole thing would have been 100% less gross without actually changing much of the plot. Really felt like Tim was cribbing from the similar Lone Star arc, which was also lazy and racist). Amir was a fantastic character, and while I could have done without that last scene of him offering Bobby absolution, I feel like he was generally allowed to be both gracious and rightfully angry. The cop Athena stuff in the finale was... less great, but also to be expected. I would have liked much less of that and much more time spent at Bobby's bedside.

(I'm really sad about the house fire mostly because that was one of my favorite sets, but I do appreciate the poetry of the parallel, with Bobby actually managing to get his wife out this time. Though I do wonder where Harry was that night, lmao.)

Hen was similarly wonderful. I really liked getting to see her wrestle with the responsibility of being captain, and the fallout of the car accident scene. In a vacuum, I actually like Ortiz as a villain - a complicated one, with sympathetic motivations, but still ostentatiously cruel. Were it not for the fact that there are basically NO latine characters other than Eddie who aren't villains this season, it would have been great. ALAS.

Did not love the rescue dog/foster child parallel with Mara. Otherwise really loved getting to see her settle in with the Wilsons, and I'm really glad that we got to see Chim and Maddie take her in instead of leaving her at the group home by the end of the season. Really leaned into the found family element, and Chim taking care of his best friend's child in the same way that Mrs. Lee did for him.

CHIM! Chim my beloved. 'There Goes The Groom' is the one episode that I have basically no issues with at all. The hallucinatory trip through Los Angeles, wrestling with Doug's ghost, was gorgeous. Bringing back Kevin - also gorgeous. I loved that we see the Lees explicitly framed as his real family (and am spitefully glad that his bio dad was nowhere to be found. Fuck that guy.) Kenny continues to be, IMO, the best actor on this show. He killed it. We need so many more Chim-centric episodes, because they're always SO good. He can make both humor and pathos feel so natural and human. Give us more Chim!

And of course on to Buck's bisexual arc, which was... so painfully Buck, lmao. Full disclosure: I have a lot of trouble rewatching 7x04 and 7x05 because the secondhand embarrassment is just too much for me, but objectively it feels very right and in character for him. LOVED the first kiss scene, with his dawning realization of what's about to happen and his softly stunned joy afterward. His coming out scenes with both Maddie and Eddie were lovely and perfectly appropriate to both relationships. I really liked him taking the initiative to reach out to Tommy to apologize and ask for a second chance after he fucked up their first date. Loved Tommy showing up at the hospital after what was clearly a long, miserable shift.

Their date in the finale didn't really land for me mostly because of where it was placed in the episode; if they did something with the two of them after Buck spent the entire day at Bobby's bedside waiting to see if he was going to live, it would have felt a lot more natural to me to have them exhaustedly eating takeout on the couch or something instead of having a formal sit-down date with wine and place settings. Intentionally or not, that made it feel like they're still on Date Behavior with each other and despite some gestures toward emotional vulnerability, they're not quite there yet - as seen by Buck steering the conversation back to flirting and innuendo. My overall feeling on the relationship at this point is that it's cute, but I'm not seeing any real depth of feeling between them yet.

Buck and Eddie on the other hand - look, despite my many MANY issues with Eddie's plot this season, I loved how his relationship with Buck was written. I love the intimacy and familiarity of how they are together, I loved the way Eddie let himself lean on Buck, I loved how Buck is clearly positioned as an integral part of the Diaz family.

Unfortunately, that's really the only thing I loved about Eddie's plot this season. His relationship with Marisol was ultimately pointless; she was never fleshed out enough to feel like a real character, and we never even see the fallout of Eddie's cheating with regard to her; it's all Chris. The Kim stuff strained credulity, and also I never felt like he got any kind of emotional catharsis or resolution through it; he still hasn't really confronted any of his issues about Shannon, about their marriage and how it ended. That whole arc felt really wobbly in terms of tone, as well: using plot elements of a very famous psychological thriller without actually acknowledging any of the creepiness of it. I would have liked it to lean into that more especially with the scene where Kim dresses up as Shannon, an objectively creepy and unhinged thing to do.

The Diaz parents handled the Chris thing in a selfish and opportunistic way that felt both disappointing and inevitable. Hopefully that's going to be a hook for the next season and Eddie actually confronting them, but overall Eddie's plot this season really felt like they just tossed a bunch of balls up in the air and mostly failed to catch them.

Gerrard - look, I'm not that worried about Gerrard. I could have done without him, but ultimately he's going to stick around just long enough to make his inevitable defeat satisfying. At least, that's my hope.

[karuframe]

Hi hello how are you just found you o ao3 and then realise youre here on tumblrdotcom and THEN i see we both have quincy/arthur brainrot good good good

HAVE YOU SEEN THE LATEST KIM REVEALS ABOUT HOW QUINCY FOLLOWED ARTHUR FROM THE ARMY TO ICR AND THEN INTO FRAMES ALL CUZ ARTHUR SAVED HIS ASS AND NOW "i owe him forever" THE COMPLEXITIES OF THESE TWO, MAN, LIKE ARTHUR WHO WONT SPEAK OF HIS OWN ISH AND QUINCY WHOS LIKE WHAT ISH I AINT GOT ISH YOU THE ISH FAM

AHEM I MEAN IM NORMAL ABOUT THIS

(Also going anon cuz slightly shy about how unhinged this ask became ajdjkd anyways thank you for the quincy love <3)

haha definitely don't be shy about this ask, I love your energy! My brainworms regarding the Hex change all the time, it's insane how much joy and inspiration I can draw out of those little words appearing on my screen every 24 hours (on top of me actively seeking out other people's chats oops). They give us so much little side food that almost every shipper has something and I LOVE that. Eleanor/Aoi, Quincy/Amir, Lettie/Aoi, Amir/Aoi, Quincy/Arthur are the ones I so far saw some canonical interactions about and they are all so good!! I so so wish I got to draw an official comic about their beginnings rather than a random mission 😭or that I knew all this (with references too) before I got to work on the comic, I feel like I could have done so much better even with the limitations of what I was allowed to do. little background moments, different gazes, different poses...But that's okay, because I still have art and can always portray these little moments for the community ♥ As for Arthur/Quincy it at first started quite visual, them both being rugged hunks that have issues with each other (one mouthy about it, one not very aware there's issues about it cause his headspace is elsewhere lol) but there were few reveals later down the line that solidified this choice into more than just visuals and it makes me so happy I get to explore more of them! I'd love them to be right-hand men for each other at the end of their character growth (in canon) and teammates with benefits in fanon of course 🫡 Also while Quincy used to be my favorite little guy, Arthur grew on me so quick, I'm now using any little portion of time i have (while not drawing or playing games or touching grass with family) to write pwp arthur-centric smut with the hex, viktor and mostly quincy/arthur 😭i'm here to provide good art and writing cringe but boi am I free while doing it!! (also if you care, I want to stream the "true ending" for the Hex some day soon+play some more of it, and I like talking ships and other fandom stuff in every game I stream on twitch (/tbgkaru) as I don't often encounter people like that and wanted to share that space with my fandom brethren. so if you'd like to hang out and talk some more, here is always good, but we can also goof on stream :) )

[marzipanlvr]

Magnus chase is so babygirl 😭❤️ bless his soul (spoilers ahead :)

(a few) instances Magnus chase is Magnus chasing:

The first thing he did when he met his dad was bear hug him

Chose healing others over saving himself

So supportive of Samirah and Amir

Quote and quote: “I wish I could round up every homeless person in Boston and say, Hey, there’s a big mansion right over here with thousands of comfy quotes and free food forever. Follow me!

he’s more natalie chase than he thinks

never ever stops caring :((

when uncle Randolph was being a bitch and all Magnus still considered what Randolph has been through to its highest extent

He really does his best to understand the world around him like he did with Alex and Samirah

Magnus and Hearth. That’s it. The time hearth called Magnus “brother” and it came to fruition how much it meant for hearth to say that to Magnus.

bro how he treats family should he exhibited in a museum. him and annabeth are the cutest magnus is so sweet

This MAN istg is a precious godsent rarity I HOPE HE DIESNT DIE (I mean I hope he doesn’t die AGAIN)

random quirk I like about Magnus I audibly gasped when he mentioned he liked to read and his valhalla suite has a library 😭❤️ weird way to propose but yes!!

Weird take but I feel like he smells like summer and he gives the best hugs ever

Btw I’m not finished with Magnus chase yet :)) don’t spoil please!!

I LOVE this fandom so much I love how everyone is so kind and helpful I literally love being here especially with how people interacted with my last post <33 Hope u all had a great day :)) I’m sorry if you didn’t, but there will be better days to come!!

[purplesimmer455]

Nico comes to pick up the twins and Hamuera takes Emily back to their house at 8 pm. Megan's on the porch talking to Alicia, Tess's grandma, and she rushes to greet Emily while Alicia goes over to her great-grandson Hamuera. "Hey nooboo, did you have fun?" She asks. "Yeah, we skated for an hour but Mera and Daph kept falling so we just hung out til it got dark." She says and Megan nods. "I'm so glad." She says, smiling. "Mom, are you and ma okay?" Emily asks. Megan’s smile slips. "Of course, sweetpea. We just had a little rough patch but we're good now." She says and Emily nods cautiously. "Okay, because I saw you arguing last week and last night I asked ma where you were and she said you were hanging out with auntie Is." Emily says and Megan nods. "Oh, Iseul and I were just talking about something between us. Don't worry Emmy, your ma and I love each other and love you, Saf, and Amir so much." Megan says and Emily smiles, feeling a bit of tension slip away. "Okay, good." She says and Megan smooths a lock of hair off her forehead.

Megan then checks on the family cat Gus, who's feeling a bit sick. She gives him a wellness treat and cuddles with him on the bench outside. Meanwhile, Emily's auntie Chrissy comes out to check on Hamuera and she smiles as she sees Emily. "Hey Emmy," she says. "Hey auntie Chrissy, you look really pretty." Emily says and Chrissy grins. "Thanks, your auntie Luna and I just came back from a date so I got all dolled up." She says playfully and Emily grins. "You sure did," She says back and Chrissy looks over at Hamuera. "I'm going to help your ma and auntie Luna start dinner, let Hamuera and Alicia know to come inside too, okay?" She says and Emily nods.

[softpine]

working on the next post was frustrating me so i made more of coco's family to relax!! let's hear it for beautiful brown eyes

nico (33), nicole "coco" (23), monica (22), jasmine "jazzy" (18), amir (12), xena (1)

their family situation is very complicated but if you're interested:

nico was an oopsie when their mom was young. she got married and then quickly divorced nico's dad. coco looks up to her brother a lot. he's the kindest, most generous person you'll ever meet (gives you the shirt off his back kinda guy) and he loves coco so much, but he has an intellectual disability as a result of a complicated birth and he was never given the support he needed. he's had problems with substance abuse for a long time. growing up, coco always wanted to be around him, and unfortunately he didn't always do a good job of sheltering her. even though she doesn't blame him, he'll always blame himself for exposing her to his lifestyle.

when coco's mom met her dad, she didn't want to ruin things by getting married again. nevertheless, coco was planned. she was supposed to be the last baby (hence the cute matching names: nico and nicole).

monica came along so quick after coco that they were basically raised like twins, but coco was still very much a protective big sister to her because monica started losing her eyesight as a toddler. by middle school, she could only see light & shapes. she continued to go to the same school as coco, but she didn't get much in the way of accommodations, so coco was the one who helped her the most. she made sure monica never fell behind or felt different – she learned from nico that if she didn't support monica, no one would. they're the only 2 that share both the same birth parents, though monica always got along better with their dad than coco. oh also she's the sister that used to listen to danny's music fjkjsds

jazzy was from their mom's 2nd marriage which didn't last long. she spent summers with her dad in indiana, which made coco so jealous until she actually visited indiana herself lol. she goes to college at purdue so coco doesn't see her much. it also makes coco feel weird that they both started college at the same time though coco is 5 years older. she wants to be the big sister giving advice and helping jazzy through college, but jazzy has her life together more at 18 than coco ever has. she won't admit it, but she does judge coco for her life choices, and she has a lot of valid reasons for doing so. sadly jazzy had a front row seat to some of coco's worst moments. neither of them really know how to move on from that.

their mom is still married to amir's dad. he's the only kid still living with their mom. coco actually spends quite a lot of time with amir; he likes to stay at her apartment when he needs a break from his step siblings (who coco barely knows, since they moved in after she moved out). they also like to get out of the city and go exploring together / hiking

xena is....... complicated. she's the only one here that doesn't have the same birth mom and that's really all i can say. (btw i'm not bringing back the 2018 extreme red blush, the poor thing just has eczema)

[bluecollarmcandtf]

The Family Business

The portrait of the Malik family still hangs over the fireplace. Even though they don't live in this mansion anymore, I like to look at it.

Their name used to have influence. The wealth Mr. Malik (center) had amassed in his lifetime was only eclipsed by his influence. His firstborn son, Omar (left) eagerly followed in his father's steps, greedily awaiting his chance to replace the old man. The youngest son, Amir (right) occasionally went to board meetings when he wasnt travelling the world, going from one lavish party to the next.

Despite being on top of the world, each of the three men fell far from their pedestals.

They shouldn't have tried to swindle my restaurant. My place might've been going down the toilet, but it was priceless to me. The Maliks tried raising the pricetag, but they quickly resorted to thinly veiled threats.

I couldn't take it anymore. I was tired of their smug faces and their pompous lifestyles. They didn't deserve that existence, and I was more than capable of taking it from them.

"You're gonna be my new fry cook, son," I explain to Amir, as he nervously shifts in his new uniform.

"Can I just wear something more dignified?"

"Heck, no!" I clap the youngest Malik on the head, "You are representing my business here, so you wear what I tell you to."

Amir's lip quivers, and he knows he's helpless to disobey. My mind controlling abilities have him and his family bending to my will. Their own wills have become irrelevant. It's been this way ever since I paid a visit to their mansion, walking away with the three men marching obediently behind me.

"Whatever," Amir relents disdainfully, grimacing at the humidity and oil in the air.

"I know it's not the fancy tailored suits you are used to, son, but there's a lot more pride in wearing the Grease Pit uniform.

"Really?" he scoffs sarcastically.

"Of course there is!" I remind him, "Don't you love it when you slide that yellow polo on, look in the mirror, and see a Grease Pit employee staring back at you?"

"No," Amir scoffs, but he doesn't sound convinced.

I can tell I'm finally winning over his thoughts.

"Are you sure?" I press, "Because that's not what you said to me."

"What'd I say?" he only looks confused now.

"You told me you couldn't wait to be a part of this: a down-to-earth, blue-collar life like this. That's why you applied. Remember?"

The former party boy paused, but a grin eventually stretched across his lips. It was the first time I'd ever seen his genuine smile. He was devilishly handsome when he smiled.

"You're right, sir," he sticks out his chest a little, "I'll wear the uniform with pride."

"Every day, right?"

"Yes, sir," he replies cheerily.

"Remember, the best Grease Pit employees always work with a smile!" I add.

Amir laughs respectfully at his boss's quip, turning the sticky stove on. Little does he know that it is no joke. His mind is under my control, and he's just been convinced that he's my little cook who's absolutely beaming with pride and joy in his work.

I give him a playful smack on his rear as I leave. His butt is basically mine to play, and he can only smile and shrug off my advances.

"How're the dishes, son?" I call to Omar, as he scrubs away in the back of the building.

"Screw you," the former executive mutters, "And I'm not your son."

"Oh I don't know if you want to take that tone with me, boy," I remind him, "Remember what happened last time you gave me lip?"

Omar's mouth seals tightly as he looks away.

"Go on," I command, "Remind me."

The oldest son growls, "You made me clean your boots," slamming a dirty dish beneath the steaming water with rage.

"More than that, I think," I continue, "Explain what else."

"You made me lick them!" he yells at me with bared teeth, "And when I wasn't doing that right, you made me slow down and drag my entire tongue across your goddamn shoe."

"That's right," I brush off his intimidation, "Isn't this work so much more enjoyable?"

"It's all terrible!" he growls, "Every second since you showed up has been terrible. This place is disgusting! There's mold in every corner, the place smells like rotten meat, and it's at least a hundred degrees back here!"

I chuckle at the sweat pouring down his shirt.

"Well, the AC hasn't worked for years, and the water always comes out piping hot," I explain, "But that's nothing to be upset about."

"Oh really?" he bellows in rage as he splashes more dirty dishes into the scalding water.

"Sure, don't you love some hard work?" I ask, knowing this man hasn't ever worked hard, "That's the only way you feel accomplished."

"What are you talking about?" he scoffs.

I already know he'll be easy to sway. Men as desperate for attention as he is usually are.

"I'm talking about how you love a good project. You are so hard-working. You need something to apply yourself to completely."

"Well, I do work hard," he reiterates.

"Exactly! That's why I hired you, son."

"I'm not your-"

"Right, your not my son. Im just proud of you, is all. You're my hardest worker here, and I hate seeing this place in such a sorry state."

Omar's eyes soften, and for the first time he doesn't look like he wants to murder me.

"Well, maybe I could see if I can't scrub off that mold later," he quietly suggests.

"You'd do that?" I feign gratitude, "Do you think you could fix the AC too, son?"

"I don't know how that works," he reasons.

"Oh," I give him a look of disappointment.

"But let me try," he calls, sounding slightly desperate, "I'm sure I'll figure it out."

"That's good, son," I say, patting him on the head. Omar can't help but relax as I do, happy he has earned my approval.

Both brothers are eating out of my hand. It's time to visit dad."

"Mr. Malik," I call, "How's the front?"

The mature executive doesn't even bother turning his head, stating, "No customers if that's what you mean. Can't imagine anyone coming into a piece of trash like this."

"You're in here," I remind him.

"Against my will," he reminds me steadily.

He is not going to be as easy to manipulate as his sons, but that's perfectly fine. I don't want to warp this man into the most respectful or dedicated employee. I just want him to watch as I do that to his charming boys.

"So who were you gonna give the company?"

He sighs, staring at the empty restaurant.

"Tell me!" I command.

"Amir," he frowns deeper as his voice betrays him, "Probably. If he ever grew up. Omar was too eager, but he was the backup."

"Which one wants it more, do you think?"

His lip curls warmly as he thinks about his sons, "They both want it more than anything. They just have different ways of showing it."

"Well, I doubt they care about it anymore."

His eyes finally dart to my own. I can tell the all-powerful Mr. Malik is finally scared. He has no idea what I've done to his boys.

"Hey, boys!" I yell, "Get your butts up front!"

I smirk at the petrified father as the stove simmers down and the sink turns off. Heavy feet race over as the duo reports to us. They don't mind their father. The brothers are waiting to hear what I have to say to them.

"Omar?"

"Yeah, boss?" the grown man can barely hide his desperation for my approval.

"I know you had a pretty good career before, son" I admit, winking at the stunned father, "I won't stop you if you want to go back."

"No," his voice cracks as he answers hastily. Casting a nervous glance to his dad, he continues, "I just like the work here. There's a lot to do, but I can help fix this place up."

"You can certainly try, son," I smile deviously.

"And Amir?" The boy straightens his back.

"I wouldn't dream of leaving the Grease Pit, sir," he beams. I reach around and give his rear a playful, squeeze as he smiles wider.

Mr. Malik's nostrils flair as he sees what I've turned them into, but the former tycoon can't do anything about it. I dismiss his sons to get back to work.

The man is helpless to stop his body from giving me everything I want. The mansion, the vacation homes, even ownership of their enterprises were all signed over to me.

"Keep up the good work!" I call cheerily as I leave the restaurant.

While I hop in a sports car and speed off, they stay open late into the night. A few people wander in during their graveyard shift.

When I finally arrive at the secluded mansion, they are finally closing up and cleaning for the night. Amir cleans the kitchen while his older brother mops the floors. Mr. Malik is stuck scrubbing the toilets.

When I finally sink into a massive sofa and enjoy the fire. They are turning out the lights in the back office. Mr. Malik and his youngest curl up on stuff cots while Omar stays up to take care of the mold problem. He is certainly willing to go the extra mile for me.

As I drift off, I chuckle at the portrait of the three men. It's a silly thing to have such a grand painting of three fast food workers.

[gryficowa]

Boycott!

Can the blue mega finally shut up? Seriously, they go into the free Palestine tags to write shit about voting for a Zionist because they think she's the best option for Palestine… The blue MEGA is irritating

Seriously, you enter the tags to find out what's going on in Gaza or to share thugs, and the blue MEGA already appears there to write her shit (And classic texts about Trump… Let him win, maybe you'll finally start fucking care about genocide, you pro-genocide bastards)

No matter how much I despise Trump, at least that would be the perfect punishment for you for using Palestine as a tool to vote for a Zionist, fuck you liberals, no one likes you

The truth is that you don't care about the genocide and you are using gaslighting to get people to vote for your Zionist bitch as if Trump wins so that you can finally give a damn about the genocide in Gaza because if your blue terrorists do it, you don't care

Fuck you with the texts about bots, Russian trolls and calling others stupid, it hurts you so much that people care about genocide and that's why they refuse to vote for a Zionist bitch with a history of supporting fucking Israel? Are you seriously that stupid or are you fucking pretending?

Yes, no one fucking wants to see you in tags about Free Palestine, because all you do is force people to vote and masturbate to a Zionist (And the fact that she is a woman makes you think that you will get along with her easily… Really? Misogyny on top of that? You dare defend Harris because of her ethnicity and gender, you are fucked) you are disgusting, you have a history of attacking strikers and enjoying police brutality (And then you take the successes of the left to use them as a way to force people to vote for people who don't even care about minorities, anyway, it's funny that you keep silent about homeless people and people with disabilities, but it doesn't really matter to you, because you consider them to be worth more than you)

Yes, I will not forgive you, you are complicit in genocide and you will pay for it

Now that I have your attention:

[hana-no-seiiki]

Saw that post you made a little bit ago and was hit with an idea (ow)

A yandere that tries so damn hard to hold themselves back from crossing boundaries because while their love is, in fact, incredibly twisted and probably unhinged, they do love their darling. Hearing that Darling never had anyone respect them the way they deserved really grinded their gears. So the Yandere asks for permission before giving hugs, kisses, ect.

Is it out of genuine respect? Is a ploy/plot to gain Darling's affection a bit faster? Up to you, I'm very tired. I'll also let you decide how successful the Yandere is at Not Crossing Boundaries

My yans in general are yans because they have no sense of boundaries, do not care about these boundaries, or expect you to have no boundaries because they have none themselves.

I think the only yans in my roster that will definitely respect that in a direct sort of manner are the Midnight Darling (Yan! College) ones. Purely because the reader there is at the top of the foodchain and they have a system for organization’s sake. Most of them would still stalk you, or ‘feel’ you indirectly by taking your stuff. But if you ever voiced it out, they’ll make sure that no one messes with the lines you’ve set.

That being said, they do expect a reward and will very much coax it out of you if not outright force it if enough time has passed by that they get impatient.

Try not to implicate who didn’t respect your boundaries, unless you want them dead or humiliated to death. Though I do see them hunting your family members down since that’s where stuff like that usually happens eitherway (totally not speaking from personal experience h a h a)

Particularly speaking, Justin (Yan! Jock) is actually the best at keeping his hands to himself. He’s great at adjusting. You just have to not tick him off or intentionally provoke him and he’d basically do whatever you wish. He cares more for how he can serve you rather than how you can reciprocate his feelings.

Amir is also very good at respecting your boundaries. Physically speaking at the very least. He is incredibly bad at verbal boundaries and can easily say something real bad at the worst times, but he does apologize and feels awful afterwards. He does awkwardly hover over you sometimes and is too shy to ask for permission, so you have to read him yourself to know when to ply him with kisses.

The worst for respecting your boundaries would be Yichen (Yan! Himbo)

What are boundaries? You’ve been bros for forever! Friends don’t have boundaries! You guys should always be open to each other! And y’know what he’s been feeling rather pent up lately. Won’t you be a dear and jerk him off as you sit prettily on his lap?

God while his is more innocent in nature, there’s also someone I haven’t written specifically here yet but have been brainrotting in dms w/ @not-a-bot-just-shy . Caterpillar (Yan! Ex Goon/Now-A-Villain) who just doesn’t care entirely. You’re hers whether you like it or not. Who are you to set boundaries when she owns you? Possessions don’t have rights much less should have the ability to say no.

She’s very similar to The Scientist (it’s in the name) who doesn’t even see you as human. Reader in that story is a monster so it makes sense but 🤷‍♂️ i dunno sounds kinda fucked up-

but yeah, a lot of my ocs are crap at it ngl. They’re needy sluts.

[hummussexual]

Alexander Durie 23 May, 2024

The Cannes Film Festival this year showcased screenings from the Middle East and North Africa that captured significant attention.

The New Arab has curated a list of the top seven films premiered there, and we highly recommend giving them a watch.

The Seed of the Sacred Fig (2024) 

Director Mohammad Rasoulof – Iran, France, Germany

In the bustling streets of Tehran, the life of Judge Iman takes a drastic turn when he discovers his gun missing, leading him to suspect his own family, including his wife and daughters. The film explores the intricate dynamics of familial relationships, as suspicion and distrust put their bonds to the ultimate test. 

Despite facing an eight-year prison sentence in Iran, Director Mohammad Rasoulof's determination to present this story at Cannes highlights the enduring power of artistic expression in challenging times.

Norah (2024) 

Director Tawfik Alzaidi – Saudi Arabia

Transporting audiences back to the conservative landscape of 1990s Saudi Arabia, Norah introduces us to Nader, a newly arrived teacher in a remote village, and Norah, a spirited young woman yearning for freedom. Their secret affair blossoms amidst the shadows of societal restrictions and impending danger, fueled by their shared passion for art and beauty.

Against the backdrop of a repressive society, the film serves as a reminder of the power of love and the human spirit's pursuit of liberation.

To a Land Unknown (2024)

Director Mahdi Fleifel – Palestine, UK, France, Germany, Greece, Netherlands, Qatar, Saudi Arabia

To a Land Unknown tells the story of Chatila and Reda, two Palestinian cousins in Athens, Greece, aiming for a better life in Germany. They face tough challenges as refugees, pushing themselves to their limits. Their journey highlights the struggles of seeking refuge and finding hope in difficult times.

Across the Sea (2024)

Director Saïd Hamich Benlarbi – Morocco, France, Belgium, Qatar

Across the Sea follows Nour, a young immigrant who comes to Marseille, France, for a better life. He faces tough challenges surviving on the outskirts of society, getting involved in small crimes with an uncertain future. But meeting Serge, a charismatic but unpredictable cop, and his wife Noémie, gives Nour hope.

The story spans from 1990 to 2000, showing Nour's search for love, identity, and belonging in a world that's changing fast.

East of Noon (2024) 

Director Hala Elkoussy – Egypt, Netherlands, Qatar

East of Noon welcomes viewers into a fantasy world rooted in Egyptian folklore. It follows young Abdou, a musical prodigy who defies tradition with his music. As Abdou's melodies resonate across the timeless landscape, he confronts the norms, embarking on a bold journey of self-discovery.

Director Hala Elkoussy's tale celebrates Egypt's cinematic heritage, with enchanting characters and captivating storytelling that transport audiences to a realm of limitless imagination.

The Brink of Dreams (2024)

Director Nada Riyadh & Ayman El Amir – Egypt, France, Denmark, Qatar, Saudi Arabia

In a remote village in Upper Egypt, a group of young girls breaks societal norms by forming a street theatre group. They dream of a life beyond their traditional upbringing. Through daring performances, they challenge the expectations of their Coptic families and local communities. Daughters of the Nile, filmed over four years, shows their journey from rebellious teens to empowered women.

This film is a powerful story of resilience and strength, capturing their universal longing for self-discovery and freedom.

Everybody Loves Touda (2024) 

Director Nabil Ayouch – Morocco, France, Belgium, Denmark, Netherlands, Norway

In the charming villages of Morocco, Touda dreams of a life beyond what society expects. She wants to become a Sheikha, a traditional Moroccan performer. Despite facing criticism from her community, Touda finds comfort in her music, singing about resistance, love, and freedom. Every night, she performs in local bars, her voice filling the streets as she imagines a better future for herself and her son.

Driven by a desire to break free from tradition, Touda sets her sights on the bright lights of Casablanca, determined to make her own way in a world full of opportunities.

[fandominstability]

Athena can just see how much he doesn’t want this medal

Bobby, baby 😭😭😭

Madney and Henren cuteness at the ceremony, bless 😭

Evan you leave Ravi and his food alone

“I assumed he was dead” “only in our hearts” CHIMNEY PLEASE 😂😂😂 (no but I agree, fuck gerrard)

“Whenever I see some filth, I think of you” chimney han, funniest man alive

YES MADDIE AND ATHENA INTERACTION

Fuck off councilwoman

“Sadly her heroics didn’t extend to my son” bitch HE REFUSED CARE stfu

Mara is smiling and having fun and hanging out with her big brother and TALKING, god I love this for her

I’m sorry, your WHAT NOW MR NASH?

Not the point, but Athena’s little finger thing when she held her hand out for Bobby to take? The most adorable thing

Eddie Diaz, you messy, messy bitch, why do you have this bitch out on a boat in the middle of the city in broad daylight

Not Kim being an actress

Not Athena faking an emergency with one of Amir’s patients to get him to come up there 😭 a whole family of messy bitches apparently

“Nash doesn’t seem like the impulsive type” “normally he isn’t” says the woman he impulsively proposed to 😂😂😂 (which I fully supported, this just made me laugh)

This has nothing to do with anything, but Athena’s nails look so good

NOT THE SLOW MO CALL WITH THIS SAD ASS MUSIC, ROBERT WADE NASH I SWEAR TO GOD

MOTHER HEN BOBBY SO HELP ME WE’RE NOT FUCKING DOING THIS

He’s parenting them all one last time, I am chewing glass

TURNING OVER COOKING DUTY TO BUCK SOMEONE SEDATE ME

GIVING EDDIE HIS PRAYERS BOOK HELP

“My work here is done” NO THE FUCK ITS NOT

Oh god Buck is meeting Kim

“She’s not my girlfriend” okay Eddie

Eddie “messy bitch” Diaz

Wilson-Han family night together??? I fucking love this???

Finally someone recognizes something’s going on with Bobby

Fuck you Olivia Ortiz, I know you’re fucking with Henren’s adoption

Oh you finally told her about Shannon, that’s good I think?

I had to pause in the middle of Eddie and Kim’s convo so here’s my “live blog” up to that