mitry

3

Be it Easter or Eid, holidays in the Levantine region of the Middle East are incomplete without a shortbread cookie called maamoul. Stuffed with date paste or chopped walnuts or pistachios, and dusted with powdered sugar, these buttery cookies are the perfect reward after a month of fasting during Ramadan or Lent.

The dough is made with wheat flour or semolina (or a combination of the two), then pressed into special molds, traditionally carved in wood. And the fillings are fragrant with rosewater or orange blossom.

In the weeks leading up to Easter, the Beirut sweet shop Helwayat Al-Salam becomes a veritable factory of maamoul. Owner Mitri Hanna Moussa dips pitted dates into rosewater, then passes them through a meat grinder to make a paste. Mitri’s mother, Samira, a small, older woman with wrinkled hands but perfectly manicured nails, sits at a makeshift table sorting pistachios. She makes sure that neither a speck of shell nor a single shriveled pistachio makes its way into their renowned cookies. Once all ingredients are ready, Mitri and his assistant pinch off balls from their mountain of semolina dough. They shape the dough balls into small cups which they stuff with either date paste, pistachios or walnuts.

Then, Samira presses each stuffed dough ball into an antique wooden mold, which she thwacks against a wooden stump to toss out a perfectly formed cookie, ready to be baked. In a matter of minutes, the three of them prepare dozens more.

Maamoul: An Ancient Cookie That Ushers In Easter And Eid In The Middle East

Photo: Amy E. Robertson for NPR

كنت أشتكى لك أيامى اشكي لمين ظلمك لي ؟.. وكان رضاك نور أحلامي
لما الزمان يقسى عليّ
و صبحت أشكى منك لروحى .. وفضلت أخبي عنك جروحى
وبعدت عنك والفكر كان دايما وياك .. والقلب منك غضبان فى دنيا الحب معاك

Made with SoundCloud
Stanley Kubrick’in Favori Filmleri

  • Annie Hall (Woody Allen, 1977)
  • Husbands and Wives (Woody Allen, 1992)
  • Manhattan (Woody Allen, 1979)
  • Radio Days (Woody Allen, 1987)
  • McCabe & Mrs. Miller (Robert Altman, 1971)
  • If… (Lindsay Anderson, 1968)
  • Boogie Nights (Paul Thomas Anderson, 1998)
  • La notte (Michelangelo Antonioni, 1961)
  • Harold and Maude (Hal Ashby, 1971)
  • Pelle the Conqueror (Bille August, 1987)
  • Babette’s Feast (Gabriel Axel, 1987)
  • Casque d’Or (Jacques Becker, 1952)
  • Édouard et Caroline (Jacques Becker, 1951)
  • Cries and Whispers (Ingmar Bergman, 1972)
  • Smiles of a Summer Night (Ingmar Bergman, 1955)
  • Wild Strawberries (Ingmar Bergman, 1972)
  • Deliverance (John Boorman, 1972)
  • Henry V (Kenneth Branagh, 1989)
  • Modern Romance (Albert Brooks, 1981)
  • Children of Paradise (Marcel Carné, 1945)
  • City Lights (Charles Chaplin, 1931)
  • The Bank Dick (Edward Cline, 1940)
  • Beauty and the Beast (Jean Cocteau, 1946)
  • Apocalypse Now (Francis Ford Coppola, 1979)
  • The Godfather (Francis Ford Coppola, 1972)
  • The Silence of the Lambs (Jonathan Demme, 1991)
  • Alexander Nevsky (Sergei Eisenstein, 1938)
  • The Spirit of the Beehive (Victor Erice, 1973)
  • La strada (Federico Fellini, 1954)
  • I vitelloni (Federico Fellini, 1953)
  • La Kermesse Héroïque (Jacques Feyder, 1935)
  • Tora! Tora! Tora! (Richard Fleischer, 1970)
  • The Fireman’s Ball (Miloš Forman, 1967)
  • One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (Milos Forman, 1975)
  • Cabaret (Bob Fosse, 1972)
  • The Exorcist (William Friedkin, 1973)
  • Get Carter (Mike Hodges, 1971)
  • The Terminal Man (Mike Hodges, 1974)
  • The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Tobe Hooper, 1974)
  • Hell’s Angels (Howard Hughes, 1930)
  • The Treasure of Sierra Madre (John Huston, 1947)
  • Dekalog (Krzysztof Kieslowski, 1990)
  • Rashomon (Akira Kurosawa, 1950)
  • Seven Samurai (Akira Kurosawa, 1954)
  • Throne of Blood (Akira Kurosawa, 1957)
  • Metropolis (Fritz Lang, 1927)
  • An American Werewolf in London (John Landis, 1981)
  • Abigail’s Party (Mike Leigh, 1977)
  • La bonne année (Claude Lelouch, 1973)
  • Once Upon a Time in the West (Sergio Leone, 1968)
  • Very Nice, Very Nice (Arthur Lipsett, 1961)
  • American Graffiti (George Lucas, 1973)
  • Dog Day Afternoon (Sidney Lumet, 1975)
  • Eraserhead (David Lynch, 1976)
  • House of Games (David Mamet, 1987)
  • The Red Squirrel (Julio Medem, 1993)
  • Bob le flambeur (Jean-Pierre Melville, 1956)
  • Closely Watched Trains (Jiří Menzel, 1966)
  • Pacific 231 (Jean Mitry, 1949)
  • Roger & Me (Michael Moore, 1989)
  • Henry V (Laurence Olivier, 1944)
  • The Earrings of Madame de… (Max Ophuls, 1953)
  • Le plaisir (Max Ophuls, 1951)
  • La ronde (Max Ophuls, 1950)
  • Rosemary’s Baby (Roman Polanski, 1968)
  • The Battle of Algiers (Gillo Pontecorvo, 1966)
  • Heimat (Edgar Reitz, 1984)
  • Blood Wedding (Carlos Saura, 1981)
  • Cría Cuervos (Carlos Saura, 1975)
  • Peppermint Frappé (Carlos Saura, 1967)
  • Alien (Ridley Scott, 1977)
  • The Anderson Platoon (Pierre Schoendoerffer, 1967)
  • White Men Can’t Jump (Ron Shelton, 1992)
  • Miss Julie (Alf Sjöberg, 1951)
  • The Phantom Carriage (Victor Sjöström, 1921)
  • The Vanishing (George Sluizer, 1988)
  • Close Encounters of the Third Kind (Steven Spielberg, 1977)
  • E.T. the Extra-terrestrial (Steven Spielberg, 1982)
  • Mary Poppins (Robert Stevenson, 1964)
  • Platoon (Oliver Stone, 1986)
  • Pulp Fiction (Quentin Tarantino, 1994)
  • The Sacrifice (Andrei Tarkovsky, 1986)
  • Solaris (Andrei Tarkovsky, 1972)
  • The Emigrants (Jan Troell, 1970)
  • The Blue Angel (Josef von Sternberg, 1930)
  • Danton (Andrzej Wajda, 1984)
  • Girl Friends (Claudia Weill, 1978)
  • The Cars that Ate Paris (Peter Weir, 1974)
  • Picnic at Hanging Rock (Peter Weir, 1975)
  • Citizen Kane (Orson Welles, 1941)
  • Roxie Hart (William Wellman, 1942)
  • Ådalen 31 (Bo Widerberg, 1969)
  • The Siege of Manchester (Herbert Wise, 1965)

getting older means realizing that d*mitri bel*kov is a creep and should not have been interested in a 17 year old girl, and their forbidden romance should have stayed forbidden because that shit is creepy as fuck.

Christianity started here. The only thing Palestine was able to export so successfully was Christianity. Christianity has actually on the back a stamp saying made in Palestine
—  Mitri Raheb (متري الراهب) - pastor of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Bethlehem, Palestine
Your Son and Your Boyfriend Part 4 - Barry Allen Imagine

Rating: PG

Warnings: your ex-husband who I named DJ, just cuz I know way too many DJ’s, cute little Dimitri!, Barry being a little jealous

Summary: Part 4 to Your Son and Your Boyfriend (Part 2/ Part 3). Dimitri is turning six years old! Of course, all of Team Flash is helping out. However, a birthday surprise not even you knew about knocked on your front door. Your ex, Dimitri’s biological father, was back in town.

Word Count: 1941


“This is so-”

“Cisco, be quiet!”

“Yeah, Cisco. Listen to Cait.”

“I think that means you, too, (Y/n).”

“I, Iris, am the mother of the celebrant. I can speak whenever I want to.”

“And I am the father, so, (Y/n)…”

“Oh come on, Bar!”

“Sh! Guys.”

“Boo!”

The five of you screamed in terror and faced the little menace. Dimitri laughed, falling onto his back. “You looked so funny!”

You giggled and scooped up your son. “Happy birthday, Mitri! How does it feel to be six?”

“Better than five?” Cisco offered.

Caitlin giggled. “How would you know, Cisco?”

“I am not five!”

Barry stepped forward and ruffled his son’s hair. “Are you ready for your party?”

“Yeah!” Dimitri threw his arms in the air. In turn, he shifted his balance and almost fell out of your arms.

Barry acted quickly, catching the child in his arms and swinging him up in the air. “Now now, you haven’t taken a bath. You need one.”

“No, I don’t!”

“Yes, you do.”

“No!”

“Yep!”

“Nooo!”

Barry and your son laughed. Your husband lifted Dimitri into the air and made whooshing sounds as he exited the room. You tailed after them, smiling and laughing.

Then, Barry’s watch beeped. Meta-human.

You took Dimitri into your arms. “Well, I think Mama needs to give Mitri a bath.” You looked to Barry. “Tell everyone to go. I’ll take care of our son.”

“Dad won’t be at my party?”

Barry shook his head. “Hey, I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

“Promise.” The child held out his pinky.

Barry linked his pinky with his son’s. “Promise.”

“Swear!”

“I swear.”

Dimitri nodded with a smile. “Okay!”

Your husband kissed your forehead and sped off.

Dimitri pounded his tiny fists on your chest. “No bath!”

“You need a bath.”

“No!”

“Dimitri.”

Your son’s eyes widened. “Uh-oh.” Dimitri hugged your neck. “Bath.”

“Bath,” you agreed.

Later that day, Dimitri’s classmates were running around with a variety of items. Balloon animals, light sabers, costumes. You, Barry, Joe, and Iris were handling taking care of the kids. Cisco and Caitlin mysteriously left.

“Barry!”

“(Y/n)!” Barry grunted as he adjusted his grip on Dimitri while sword fighting with one of his friends. “What is it?”

“Someone’s at the door. Might be the clown. Can you check?” You took out the cupcakes, setting them on the table and removing any nearby chairs. You did not need the kids to get more sugar.

Your husband nodded. “Yeah, I’ll get it.” He placed Dimitri down.

Your son pouted. “Aw!” He grabbed onto Barry’s leg and held tight. “No!” he laughed. “Carry, carry, carry!” he chanted.

Barry rolled his eyes with a small grin. He trudged over to the door, laughing as Dimitri, in your son’s words, “defeated the mighty dad monster.” Barry opened the door, Dimitri still clinging to his feet. Your husband looked to the person at the door. It was not the clown.

A man stood at the doorway, shaggy hair and bright green eyes. He towered over Barry. He wasn’t bulky or overly muscular, but Barry would seem like a mouse in comparison to him. Barry blinked. “May I help you?”

Dimitri peered up at the man. He let go of Barry’s leg and cowered behind him. “Stranger, Daddy.”

The man grit his teeth. His breaths shuddered. “I, uh, I was wondering if a (Y/n) lived here. I need to… to talk to her.”

Barry scanned the man. He had never seen him before. “I’m her husband. I can tell her for you,” Barry suggested politely.

The man gulped. “I need to apologize for something.”

Wondering why Barry would take so long, you appeared next to him, scooping your son in your arms. “Mitri, what is it?” You looked to Barry. “Who’s…” You blinked. There he was. Six years later. Standing right at your doorstep. You put down Dimitri. “Barry, I need to talk to this man.”

“(Y/n)-”

You smiled and kissed him before whispering, “It’s him. I’ll be fine.” You grinned a little.

Barry just glared at the man. He knew what you were talking about. Dimitri’s biological father. Barry cuddled Dimitri close to his chest. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. You kissed Dimitri’s forehead and ushered the two inside. You crossed your arms and leaned against the door. “DJ, what are you doing here?”

“Our son-” he started.

“My son,” you sneered. “Mine and Barry’s son.”

The man blinked. DJ shuddered and shuffled his feet. “I… I’m sorry.”

You stiffened in shock. Sorry? You didn’t see that coming.

“(Y/n), I am so sorry,” he continued. “I left our… I left Dimitri and you. I… I don’t know what to do anymore.” He shrugged with tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m a horrible… father. I mean, even…” He shook his head. “This was a mistake.” He sniffed and smiled at you. “I’m sorry for disturbing your family.” He handed you a small bag with colored paper sticking out. “It’s for the birthday boy. Tell him, um, happy birthday.” With that, he turned around and started to trudge away with his hands in his pockets.

You stood frozen for a moment before reaching into the bag. The first thing you felt was a slip of paper. You pulled it out. A check. For a large sum of money.

All air left your lungs. So many times you pleaded for some money, some support, something from Dimitri’s father. You didn’t have a well-paying job at the time, and you knew the troubles that were going to try and crush you. The number on that check was more than enough.

“DJ,” you called out. “Wait.”

He turned around. His eyes were still glassy and his nose was still pink. “Yes, (Y/n)?”

You sighed. “Do you want to visit? Dimitri, I mean.” You quickly corrected yourself. “I must be there, or Barry, but you could visit. Maybe once a month, if you want.”

The man’s eyes widened. He smiled a little. Then, he blinked several times, his smile fading with each second. “What about… Dimitri and his, um, dad? I don’t want to, you know, um, ruin anything. If you don’t want me in his life, it’s ok. I just, I-”

“But you obviously made an effort to try.” You held up the check. “Your valuables from the safe. You told me about them once. You never wanted to give them up.”

He gulped. “I didn’t think you’d remember.”

It stung to think back to those times. However, DJ was trying. He wasn’t fooling around. You knew that. So, you would try. You would not fool around.You fidgeted with your outfit. “Barry and I can arrange something. But, we, um… He’ll probably call you mister, not Dad.”

DJ opened his mouth but thought otherwise. He nodded. “Ok. I can do that. I can.” He smiled a little.

“You did what, exactly?” Barry asked you later that night. Dimitri was asleep. The house was clean, and it was just the two of you.

You shrugged. “I know it sounds crazy, but he is genuine.”

Barry shook his head. “I don’t know, (Y/n). What if he does something worse than last time? What if he hurts you? Dimitri?” Barry gulped. “I cannot have that, (Y/n).”

“That’s why it’s once a month. Not weekly. If he does… anything bad, then we can butt him out.” You rubbed his arm. “Barry, don’t get me wrong. You are his father, ok? You are, and Dimitri, our son, loves you so much.” You licked your lips. “DJ is also someone who has had a part in his life. He was, for lack of a better word, a douche, but he’s trying. He wants a second chance. Who are we to deny him that?”

Barry tiled his head back and forth. “We are Dimitri’s parents.”

“We will continue to be. Dimitri will just have another…. Mister in his life.”

“I was a Mister,” Barry reasoned.

You sighed. “True.” You pursed your lips. “Look, Barry, I don’t know where this will go exactly. I know it’s confusing. I do. But,” you held his cheeks and turned him to face you, “I do know that Dimitri, you, and I are a family. Always will be. I promise, it will always be us. No one, no meta, no hero, no DJ can do anything about it.” you kissed his forehead and smiled. “If it really does bother you, I’ll… I’ll tell him off. He’d never bother our family again.”

Barry let his forehead rest against yours. His hands came up to cover yours. He grinned a little and grasped your hands as he kissed your forehead. “One visit.”

You nodded. “One.”

After DJ left the house from his first visit to Dimitri, Barry sang him to sleep and approached you. “No.”

“What?”

“Not doing that again.” Your husband walked right past you.

You bit your lip in confusion. “And may I ask why?”

“He stepped out of line.”

“How so?”

“He didn’t even serve Dimitri’s food correctly.” Barry shrugged and sat down. “We have to tell him off.”

You stared at your husband. He was serious. You sighed. “I think you can serve Dimitri his food different ways.” You stepped around the counter and leaned against it. “Barry, you are Dimitri’s father.”

“DJ ‘s his biological dad.”

“Who left him for the first six years of his life. Barry, you are my husband, Dimitri’s dad. Your son’s love for you won’t lessen because DJ is back. It won’t.” You gulped. “Tell me, is Dimitri heartless?”

“Of course not! He’s the best kid. The perfect son!”

“Then, I’m sure he has enough room in his heart for you. For me. For Joe, Iris, Cait, Cisco. Even DJ.” You placed your hands on his shoulders. “I love you so much, Barry.” You kissed him on the cheek.

Barry laughed and held your hand. “I don’t know. I just need time. I need to get used to this. Or something. I mean, maybe a month. Two months.”

You hugged his chest. “Take all the time you need.”

Barry leaned back and smiled softly. “I love you. So much, (Y/n).”

You giggled. You leaned down and tried to kiss him, only to awkwardly miss his lips. Both of you laughed. “Only in movies,” you joked.

Barry beamed. His eyes crinkled and his eyes shined. “I don’t know. I quite liked it.”

“I missed!”

Barry pouted. He got up and pulled you by the waist. “Then, I guess you have to try again.”

You inhaled sharply, feeling your knees turn into jello. You smiled. “Alas, I shall try again. You reached up to play with his hair and pecked him on the lips.

“Daddy?”

Barry whipped around.

Your son was in the hallway, wiping his eyes. “Daddy,” he whined. “Dad.”

Barry sprinted over there and crouched down to rub his shoulders. “Hey, what is it?”

Dimitri yawned. “Can’t sleep.”

“Ok, ok. I can sing another lullaby. Do you want that?”

Dimitri shrugged.

“Mitri,” Barry drawled out, raising an eyebrow at his son.

He pouted. “It’s scary!”

Barry grinned. “Oh, all right. Do you want me to stay with you?”

Your son grinned, lighting up the entire house with happiness once again. “Always!”

Barry smiled. “Really?” Barry nodded. “Always, then.”

“Promise!”

Barry held out his pinky finger. “Promise.”

Your son linked his pinky with his dad’s. “Swear!”

“I swear.” Your husband kissed his forehead. Barry scooped Dimitri up and carried him to bed.

You stood there, watching the entire scene unfold. Family. You finally had it, and you would never let it go.


Hello, everyone! This was fun to write! Hope you guys  have a wonderful day!

EDIT: Wanna read Part 5?

Second Chance

Paring: Levihan

Rating: K

Summary: Levi and Hanji are a wealthy couple that adopt an orphan named Mikasa off the streets.

Note: I might make a sequel to this where Eren becomes her inevitable suitor and gets her pregnant, but that depends on how much ya’ll want to see it.

There were two very different levels to living in the capital city of Mitris, and they were known as the illusion and the reality. The illusion was what the people in smaller cities thought when they heard the word Mitris - a beautiful, thriving economic utopia of wealth, where life was easy and simple. It was safe and calm, far from the fears and horrors that plagued the residents of less fortunate areas. It was the best place in the world to live, if you were lucky enough to be one of the rich and the noble.

Keep reading