#*alie

[mioakem]

the imagery in this part of the ep was actually insane like this is genuinely beautiful

[deletingmyself]

(by Khaled Ali)| Nepal

[strawberryfanaticccc]

haymitch is the little kid that’ll sit next you on a bench and overshare about everything going on in his life and then leave you bewildered,

while katniss is the type of little kid that sits down next to you on a bench and you feel vaguely unsettled by her presence there because she’s so quiet.

[idiosyncraticrum]

Red-billed Oxpecker (Buphagus erythrorhynchus) on a rhino, sound asleep.

In South Africa by Zaheer Ali: Zali_Photo

[fricklefracklefloof]

[ID by @hijab-described: A four panel comic. A woman in a white hijab stands inside a classroom. Text reads, "A year ago, Eslam was teaching children in schools."

Framed family pictures in front of a cracked wall. Text reads, "She was a mother of two girls and her husband was a successful business owner. She had a beautiful home and family."

The four of them, huddled together in front of the ruins of a building. Text reads, "On October 7, 2023, everything changed. In December, Eslam and her family were displaced from their home. Then, her husband's learning center was blown up. By March 2024, Eslam's family had found their home completely destroyed.

Two sleeping children. Text reads, "Eslam's family has been living in a tent ever since. Her daughters have suffered from multiple skin diseases because the costs of soap and food are extremely high. With your help, Eslam's family can have better chances of living, or even evacuating Gaza. Please donate to their campaign if you can." /end ID]

for @eslamfamily3

eslam reached out to me recently asking if i could illustrate her family and of course i said yes. she has been so effortlessly kind to me even though it took me a while to get this finished. please, please listen to her family’s story, share and donate if you can. it would mean the world to us both.

you can visit eslam’s blog @eslamfamily3 for more information, she is also on instagram here.

as of now, eslam’s family has received $7,991 out of their $50,000 goal.

verified on entry #308 on @el-shab-hussein ‘s spreadsheet here.

also verified on entry #175 on the bees and watermelons spreadsheet here.

campaign has also been shared by @90-ghost

tags (thank you endlessly):

@pocketsizedquasar-3 @pomeg-glitch @ramshackledtrickster @atlas-of-galaxies @mxwhore @gasterofficial @samwise1548

[lil-ye]

SINNERS 🩸

[alygator77]

── try again

a/n. i've been sitting on wanting to create a small scene like this for a while now. so here ya go! lemme tell ya'll... breastfeeding is not always this magical and beautiful thing that people make it out to be. it hurts like hell, my bloody nipples can attest.

cw: domestic fluff. angst with comfort. satoru's trying to make breastfeeding easier for you.

“Satoru,” you whisper, voice tight with frustration. “She won’t latch.”

You’re trying not to cry.

Looking down at your newborn, you can see her frustration—tiny fists clenching, soft, hungry cries spilling from her mouth as she wriggles restlessly in your arms. You shift again, adjusting her position, cradling her closer, trying—begging—for something to click.

But it doesn’t.

Her mouth bobs and searches blindly, cheeks flushing red with effort, and the desperation building in her fragile little body mirrors your own.

“I—I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” you choke out, blinking hard as tears blur your vision.

You’re exhausted. Beyond it. The sleepless nights at the hospital. Your body aches in places you didn’t even know could hurt. And this—this thing that was supposed to be natural, instinctual, beautiful—feels awkward and impossible—like a test you’re failing over and over again.

“Please, baby girl…” your voice trembles as you guide her to your breast one more time. “Just—c’mon—o-ow!”

She latches, but it’s wrong. A searing pain shoots through your chest and you flinch, instinctively pulling her away. Your nipple throbs—red, sore, screaming for relief. With a shrill cry, your baby’s tiny face crumples in protest, and your own tears finally fall—hot and helpless.

“Why is this so hard?” you whisper, voice cracking as you hold her close, shaking.

“Hey, hey… it’s okay. You’re doing everything right.”

Satoru's voice is low behind you—steady, but laced with worry.

His hands come to rest gently on your shoulders, warm and trembling, his thumbs moving in slow circles like he can massage away the frustration knotting in your muscles.

“She’s only a few days old…” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss the top of your head, lips lingering in your hair. “She’s still learning. Fuck… we are too.” He exhales shakily. “You’re doing the best you can, sweetheart. Please don’t be so hard on yourself.”

He straightens, blue eyes darting around the room like he’s searching for something—anything—to help.

“What can I do? Do you need anything? Where’s that—hang on—where’s that damn pillow thing…?” he mumbles, and you watch through watery eyes as he scrambles, clumsily grabbing the nursing pillow, adjusting it like he’s trying to solve a puzzle without the picture on the box. His movements are uncoordinated, frantic—but full of love.

Satoru kneels beside you as you try again, baby blue eyes flicking between your face and your daughter’s, willing the pieces to fall into place.

"C'mon baby girl... be nice to your momma for me, yeah?"

But when your little one latches again and you gasp, pulling her off with a pained cry, your resolve shatters.

“I—I can’t do it Satoru!” you say, brokenly. “I can't get her to latch, and when she does… it just hurts. So much.”

You feel like a failure. How can you not feed your baby?

As you look up at him through watery lashes, tears clinging to your cheeks, Satoru's expression cracks. He nods quickly, white brows furrowing as his lips press into a tight line, like he’s holding back the helplessness swelling in his chest.

“I know, baby. I know. Just… wait one sec.”

He’s on his feet in an instant, practically tripping over the edge of the rug as he rushes across the room. A moment later, he’s back—dragging a stool with one hand and clutching a spare pillow in the other. Dropping down in front of you, he crouches low, gently lifting your legs and placing them on the makeshift footrest.

“There,” he murmurs, positioning the pillow with care. “Put your feet up. Maybe if you’re more comfortable…”

Satoru fluffs the nursing pillow again with extra care, tucks the baby’s blanket around her tiny frame, then grabs your water bottle from the side table—uncapping it as he gently places it in your hand.

“C’mon momma... gotta stay hydrated.”

His voice is hushed, but purposeful. You sniffle, taking a sip of water, and he's shifting back toward the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder.

“Um… do you want a snack? I think there’s some of those lactation cookies in the kitchen…" his blue eyes flick back to you, and you see the gears turning in his head. "Or... I can make you something? Or—shit—I’ll Postmate something! What do you want? Fuck, I’ll Postmate everything if it’ll help.”

A tired, wet laugh escapes you—half amusement, half relief. “Great..." you wipe the tears from your eyes, smiling softly. "Now you’re spiraling too...”

He huffs out a sheepish breath, dragging a hand down his face as he plops beside you again. “Yeah… yeah, I am definitely spiraling.”

Reaching up, he brushes a damp strand of hair from your face, fingers grazing your temple with featherlight tenderness.

“You’re in pain...” he murmurs, blue eyes shimmering with concern. “And... I feel helpless just standing here. I can’t feed her. I can’t fix this…” he pauses, lips dropping into an exaggerated pout. “My nipples are completely useless, by the way.”

A choked, breathless laugh escapes through your tears, and his entire face softens at the sound, like it’s the only thing that’s mattered all day.

“What?” he grins. “It’s true. I’ve got nothing going on up here. Decorative at best. Yours, on the other hand—” he gestures with a flourish, “—doing heroic work. Damn sexy, too. Just sayin'.”

You roll your eyes through the blur of tears, laughing again, and lean into the warmth of his palm as it cradles your cheek.

It still hurts. You’re still exhausted, still raw, still aching in every possible way.

But in this moment—wrapped in Satoru's love, soothed by his gentle chaos and relentless care—you don’t feel quite so alone.

And somehow, with him by your side, you find the strength to try again.

And again.

And again.

Until finally… you get it right.

[gael-garcia]

They Do Not Exist (1974) by Mustafa Abu Ali (watch)

from PalestineCinema.com:

Salvaged from the ruins of Beirut after 1982, Abu Ali's early film has only recently been made available. Shooting under extraordinary conditions, the director, who worked with Godard on his Ici et Ailleurs (Here and Elsewhere), and founded the PLO's film division, covers conditions in Lebanon's refugee camps, the effects of Israeli bombardments, and the lives of guerrillas in training camps. They Do Not Exist is a stylistically unique work which demonstrates the intersection between the political and the aesthetic. Now recognised as a cornerstone in the development of Palestinian cinema, the film only received its Palestine premiere in 2003, when a group of Palestinian artists "smuggled" the director to a makeshift cinema in his hometown of Jerusalem (into which Israel bars his entry). Abu Ali, who saw his film for the first time in 20 years at this clandestine event noted: "We used to say 'Art for the Struggle', now it's 'Struggle for the Art'"

[andrew-garfielld]

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON (2022-) 02x04 | 02x06

[plagalkey]

F1 AU timeskip

kageyama drives for ferrari now

[funnypages]

Daemon: Surrender Harenhal to me Simon Strong: no take backs Daemon: what? Simon: it’s giant, wet, half destroyed, and haunted as shit Alys Rivers walks in room Daemon: who is she? Simon: oh thank the gods you see her too

[keerysgirl]

dont think about how agatha all along could be considered as a queer allegory. dont think about how agathas mom telling her shes born evil is the exact same thing so many parents have told their children after they came out. dont think about how lilia hating the witch stereotypes is the same way queer people who dont fit typical lgbtq stereotypes feel. dont think about how when lilia said i loved being a witch after so much time spent hating it is how queer people feel when they can finally appreciate and accept and love who they are.

[havingapoemwithyou]

Staying by Ali Shapiro

[friendswafflesfeminism]

Sometimes a family is two lesbian ex lovers, two more lesbians that don’t really like them, a twink, and Patti LuPone

[thevelvetwhispers]

imma say this and then i’m gone ….

BLACK IS BEAUTIFUL.