#Persian treats

[jeannereames]

Hello Dr. Reames, this may sound like a strange question, but do you know if Alexander ate an early, ancient version of ice cream? Because I believe that read somewhere that he liked to ice covered in honey and nectar. Do you know if this is actually recorded anywhere or if this is some sort of legend?

I suspect somebody is confusing much later Persian sorbet (sharbat, sherbert in English) with ice cream. Sorbet doesn't have milk in it, although it is a frozen (fruit) treat with sugar. Some is liquid, some (thicker) was eaten with a spoon. Yet it's medieval.

Was there some earlier version? I just don't know. I do know that snow was sometimes fetched from mountain tops to cool wine. There's even a piece of pottery just FOR that (pskyter). One below: you can see how that bottom part would fit into the krater (mixing bowl), just below that, so it rests on top. The snow goes in the top, and it cools the wine. But that's wine.

This is the eternal problem for authors, too, btw. WHEN did something appear on the scene? The amount of time I spent running down random shit for Dancing with the Lion.... I had to take out a line about cloves because they didn't have cloves yet, for instance. And the reverse happens. I've had folks complain about the boys using "the finger" as an insult as "too modern," because it seems that way. It's not. Ancient pottery shows Greeks giving each other the finger. Ha.

Back to sorbet: it may appear in the Alexander Romance (I don't remember), but the Romance is centuries later. This is similar to "lemons" popping up in ancient Greece and Rome. They didn't have lemons. The citron was found in Persia...but that's not a lemon. It's the precursor to modern citrus. While some earlier work suggested Alexander brought back the citron (and I'm sure he probably ate one), we now think it was spread into the Mediterranean with migrating Jews, for sukkot. Same thing with apricots. Apricots were native to Anatolia. It's highly likely there were some dried apricot imports earlier, but apricot trees are later.

Trade is, actually, a very interesting aspect of history, and had a LOT to do with alliances and wars, and who had power. Consider the influence of "little" Portugal--due to trade connections. Whole cities (emporia) were built purely for trade. I think, towards the end of his life, Alexander was finally starting to understand the power of trade. ;-)

[makerofmadness]

Gingerbrave and I celebrating Nowruz :3 (took these pictures a few days ago/celebrating early)

the first pictures were taken at a party in [REDACTED but hey someone will probably figure it out it was a big event] but the others were with my family in an entirely different state so you don't even get to figure out where my family lives if you use the first images hahahaha (and it's not my immediate family either so-)

The first thing was at a museum so I also took some pictures at the exhibit is for Iranian stuff :3

I had Baklava for the first time here (Middle picture). The texture's a bit eh tbh, but I like the taste enough. Also the bottom left picture, I put marzipan on his face because I thought it looked funny ndjdndndndndd (like a snowman's carrot nose y'know-)

btw the bottom right corner on the menu, that's a manticore- or mardkhaar. I think it's from our mythology but I'm not a myths expert and the internet is uh. Weird and can't always be trusted with non-European stuff and basically gives you a different answer with every result for this one :'3

and at home we have the haft-sin! س (sin) Is a letter in farsi and ۷ (haft) is 7. Basically you need 7 things that start with س in farsi. You can have more though, my family does. And there's things that don't start with sin too, like the fish :3 they have other symbolism I think. Pretty sure they symbolize life or something.

(uh I can't think of all the objects off the top of my head and I need to wrap this post up and FaceTime my parents but uh- also yeah the eggs I think my parents said Christians probably stole the idea for Easter from Nowruz/from Zoroastrians [Nowruz comes from Zoroastrianism, like a lot of Iranian culture 'cus it used to be the dominant religion in Iran pre-invasion-)

(I can barely read so don't ask me what the book is hell if I know. It may not even be in Farsi tbh in which case I don't think even my family would've been able to read it but I know that my family has an untranslated ghoran somewhere snndnddndndn)

So uh sorry for rambling about that into the cookie run tag but yes I took Gingerbrave for a lot of enrichment last weekend <3 anyway in an hour is when Nowruz actually starts so I need to FaceTime my parents like right now-

edit: I was an hour off :'3 it's 11:06

[stelashe]

There's always something so alien and off putting in North Europeans movies. It's like watching a world that is quite similar to yours but different,off and sinister

[teamrocketblood]

Do you think the boss would want to watch the barbie movie? I'm on going to work a night shift tomorrow soooo.

[eato]

[mosqitofood]

[bunny-jpeg]

how can i take your order? all you have to do is pick a dessert, drink and driver/character of your choosing! are you in the mood for a mille-feuille or a big slice of chocolate cake! please, please, please indicate who you want me to write about!!

the servers are from the following: formula one, call of duty, baldur's gate 3, haikyuu, one piece, jujustu kaisen, detective comics (dc), marvel comics (but i am open to any other fandoms you might have in mind! please do not hesitate to ask!!)

i do also accept polyam relationships! (pairing + reader), up to about four people! just to make it manageable on my end!

all orders can be made to the inbox for @bunny-jpeg and i'll get your order together asap! also let me know if you want it extra sweet or a little more spicy !

mille-feuille: “that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”

butter tart: "let's ruin ourselves for anyone else."

sugar pie: “gonna let daddy hear ya?”

zebra cake: "well, what do we have here?"

carrot cake: "swallow it. all of it."

millionaire shortcake: "if they saw you now, you'd be the biggest shame to your family."

pots de crème: "if a picture is worth a thousand words, then i could probably get a million dollars for this photo."

oat flapjacks: "i'm not scared of you."

persian rolls: "it's mandatory i finish. you getting to finish is a treat."

spice pie: "i didn't know it was possible to be a liar and a slut."

mushroom pie: "if you don't shut up. i'm going to shut you up."

lemon slice: "i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making."

swiss roll: "everything you own, everything you wear i paid for. so i guess that means i own you."

pumpkin pie: "i've met strays who were more obedient."

pastry braid: "your job is to make me cum. now get to work."

sausage roll: "i wonder how much i could get for photos of this cunt."

pithivier: "if you don't behave, i'll let the boys take care of you."

tiramisu: “my little slut to ruin.”

sponge toffee: "aw, is someone mad that they can only cum because of me?"

pull-apart bread: "i love you"

powered sugar donuts: "marry me."

blueberry bars: “gonna make you a mamma and you're gonna make me a daddy.”

pudding chomeur: "i don't share."

ice cream bars: “did you see the way he was eyeing you? he need to know you're mine."

chocolate cake: "do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day."

soufflé: "i'll be gentle."

fried dough: "i know virginity is a stupid concept... but i want to take yours."

apple pie: "now be good and beg. thank you."

vanilla cheesecake: "where are your manners?"

berry trifle: "wrong. try again."

maple cream pie: "either you wear the necklace with my name on it, or wear my bruises around your neck."

s'more: "The accent gets to you, doesn't it?"

belgian waffles: "i cum in that every night."

pancakes: "if you bite me. i'll bite you back."

loaf of whole wheat bread: "you're going to shut that mouth and take me."

jos louis: "does someone need a daddy?"

maple taffy: "oh my god you're stupid."

snowballs: "don't worry, drug tests aren't till next week."

shortbread cookies: "and who does this belong to?"

flan: "i'm not possessive... i'm obsessive."

peach cake: "if you spill a drop, we start all over."

angel food cake: "if he fucks with me again, i'm finishing inside of you."

red velvet cupcake: "if you don't like being called a whore, then stop acting like one."

mince pie: "i'm not jealous."

banana bread: "i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name."

crumb cake: "if you just listened, all of this could've been avoided."

chocolate chip cookies: "you're beautiful when you smile, but you're the prettiest when my cock is in your throat"

nanaimo bars: "who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it."

coffee cake: "knees. now."

sourdough bread: "i'm going to breed you."

blueberry muffins: "i don't think it'll fit."

pound cake with strawberries: "you know i hate going over rules, but just because i like seeing you embarrassed, i'll tell you them again."

croissant: "i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me."

crepe: "pretty girl."

french toast: "you're trying to make me jealous!"

churros: "if you don't shut that little mouth of yours, i will stuff it full. okay?"

shortbread squares: "you're just mad that that my cock fits perfectly in you now. must be a blow to the ego that we're a perfect match."

savory pastry: "let your brother find out."

sweet pastry: "i'll make it all better."

eclairs: "the family's precious little girl. under me like a slut."

boston cream pie: "yeah, i'll use protection."

bagel: “gonna paint you with my teeth.”

crostata: “stupid slut, this is what you wanted huh? wanted me to fuck you like i hate you.”

tres leches: "i wonder if your brother know i cum in you."

peanut butter bars: “scratch me, bite me, just mark me sweetheart. show them I’m yours.”

eton mess: "be careful. your breath smells like cum."

scones: "but what if they see us!"

english muffin: "aw, is someone crying?"

honey cruller: "i forget how small you are sometimes."

banana split: "don't look at me like that."

beer brownies: "stick your tongue out anymore and you'll look like a dog."

fudge: "your father is pissing me off."

sticky toffee pudding: "the only way this is ending is you getting pregnant."

hot cross buns: "don't hide your face from me. i'd hate to have to tie you up."

brownies: "you're so much more agreeable when you have something to occupy that mouth of yours."

chocolate mousse: "the only necklace you need is my hand around your throat"

tim bits: "stupid little thing."

fruitcake: "i'll make tonight special."

cornmeal muffin: "i need you most."

devil's food cake: "you're my most unhealthy obsession."

crème caramel: "oh. you thought you were getting away from me?"

banana & chocolate muffins: "i'm only doing this because you need to learn how to behave, rules are rules, and you need to follow them."

custard tart: "i've never done this before."

cinnamon rolls: "no one needs to know."

mango sorbet: "you are by far the dumbest thing i've ever fucked. how did they even let you graduate?"

date squares: "you look better with my marks on you."

figgy duff: "if i buy it, will you stop pouting?"

spicy upside down cake: "let's play a game: don't get caught."

cream puffs: "let me finish inside."

profiteroles: "come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go."

with a side of:

coffee: rivals

tea: semi-public/public sex

juice: cockwarming

mocha coffee: breeding kink

bubble tea: daddy kink

a vodka shot: rough sex

sparkling water: gentle sex

coconut water: alternate universe

energy drink: doggy style

champagne: sugar daddy situation

hard lemonade: possessive behaviour

espresso shot: dirty talking

a glass of wine: cowgirl position

ice capp coffee: werewolf au

bloody mary: vampire au

martini: mafia au

frozen latte: dumbification

frozen lemonade: consensual non-consent

cranberry juice: mean!character

glass of water: aftercare

chocolate milk: tenderness

milkshake: size kink

pina colada: pregnancy

cider: body worship

mai tai: loss of virginity

margarita: unprotected sex

mint julep: punishments

chai: biting/hickies

earl grey: big cock

fishbowl cocktail: protected sex

tonic water: age gap

matcha latte: collars/bondage

root beer: filming/recording

soda: jealousy

americano: oral sex

whisky: degrading language

vitamin water: dom/sub dynamic

irish coffee: high sex

sangria: drunk sex

dark roast coffee: sub!character

dark hot chocolate: sub!reader

iced tea: accidentally launching relationship

lemon water: university/college au

naked & famous: bimbo/ditzy!reader

on the house: author's choice!

ORDER UP!

[najia-cooks]

[ID: A Moroccan teaglass with a bundle of sage, a saucer of dried sage, a deep blue-purple teapot, and a Palestinian vase in the background. End ID]

شاي المريمية / Shay al-maryamiyya (Palestinian sage tea)

Palestinian sage is a common after-dinner beverage and digestive aid made from black tea and three-lobed wild sage (Salvia fruticosa syn. Salvia triloba L.). In the Levant, this variety of sage is known as "مَرْيَمِيَّة" ("maryamīyya") or, more dialectically, "مَرْمَرِيَّة" ("marmariyya").

Terminology and etymology

The term "maryamīyya" likely derives from the Aramaic "מרייא" ("marvā"), meaning "common sage" (Salvia officinalis). The modern form of the word in Arabic—as well as in Persian, in which "مریم گلی" ("maryam goli") is “sage” or "garden sage"—was also influenced by a folkloric association between sage and the مَرْيَم (Maryam) of the Bible (Mary, mother of Jesus). Dr. Tawfiq Kanaan, for example, says that Mary sat on a stone to rest after a walk in the hot summer sun, and used a few leaves from a sage plant to dry her forehead: this is how the plant got its pleasant scent, and why it is still named after Mary. The dialectical pronunciation "marmariyya" then arises through an assimilation of the second syllable to the first.

"Maryamīyya" is perhaps also related to the obsolete Arabic مَرْو ("marw"), meaning "fragrant herbs" [1]. This Arabic term is derived from the Aramaic מַרְוָא / ܡܲܪܘܵܐ ("marwā"), which refers to wild marjoram or za'tar (Origanum syriacum; syn. Origanum maru) and is related to words for fragrant herbage, marjoram, and grass (Ciancaglini; see also Aramäische Pflanzennamen, p. 193). The Aramaic is itself a borrowing from the southwest Middle Persian "𐭬𐭫𐭥𐭠" (transliterated: mlw'; pronounced /⁠marw⁠/) [2], which survives in several New Persian words: see for example "مرغ" ("margh"), "a species of grass of which animals are exceedingly fond"; and "مرو" ("marv"), "a fragrant herb." (Interestingly, the related Sanskrit मरुव "maruva" ultimately gives the English "marjoram" by way of Latin and Old French.)

[1] The term may also refer to the genus Maerua (to which it gives its name), and in particular the species Maerua crassifolia.

[2] See also Müller-Kessler, p. 10, and note 41 on p. 29; MacKenzie, p. 55.

Sage and Palestinian Culture

Three-lobed sage is one of the "most deeply rooted plants in the Palestinian traditional culture and ethnobotany," being the second-most-mentioned of all foraged plants (after za'tar) in a survey conducted in 2008. The connection of three-lobed sage to Maryam leads to its use in creating protective blessings at various rituals from birth until death; in the Galilee, it is burned to guard against the evil eye and to expel demons at births, weddings, and at the graves of holy people. When consumed, it is believed to help with many ailments including stomach complaints, eye diseases, and insomnia, and is used to treat livestock as well as humans.

Maryamiyya is not commonly grown as a garden herb in Palestine; rather, it is foraged from its wild range across the mountains of the West Bank, where it scents the air. Like za'atar and labna, using maryamiyya for culinary purposes is connected to Palestinian identity throughout all regions, with some people asserting that every Palestinian household must have some in stock.

Tea made with the addition of sage is perhaps the most popular herbal tea in Palestine, especially in the winter: though mint, chamomile, and aniseed are also commonly infused in water and drunk. Other varieties of sage grow in Palestine and are produced and exported by Palestinian farmers [1], but Gustaf Dalman noted in the early 20th century that three-lobed sage was the most important variety:

Of the spicy-smelling labiate flowers, which assume a significant role in the flora of Palestine, numerous sage varieties bloom in the spring. Among these the Salvia triloba, with violet flower heads on a tall shrub, is not the most colorful but is the best known, called in the north 'ēzaqān [عِيزَقَانْ] and in the south miryamīye, mēramīye thus connecting it with the Virgin Mary. (trans. Nadia Abdulhadi Sukhtian)

During the spring, sage leaves are collected and air-dried for use in tea throughout the whole year. Tea may also be made from fresh leaves, but some people consider dried to be superior. Dried maryamiyya leaves are purchased by Palestinian refugees and expatriates wherever they are. Food is thus tied to locality, memory, resistance, and terroir—a groundedness in land that considers aspects as diverse and interconnected as soil, climate, and politics. A concept of terroir in agriculture and cooking brings out how products "register[] origin and provenance."

[1] Today, the vast majority of Palestinian herb exports are to the United States, but Palestinian farmers are not able to export goods themselves—they rely on Israeli distributors and exporters, which cuts into their profits and curtails their autonomy.

Criminalizing Foraging

Ali-Shtayeh et al. noted in 2008 that the gathering of wild edible plants had been in decline in the Palestinian territories throughout preceding decades, with many young people lacking the cultural knowledge to identify and prepare wild plants. They mention several possible reasons for the decline, including an increase in intensive agriculture, improvement in national networks of roads, and the fact that some middle-aged people associate foraging with times of poverty. But we should also consider the fines, arrests, and potential imprisonment that Palestinians risk when foraging wild plants for food as a likely cause for the decline in the practice.

There are two strains of law relevant to the criminalization of foraging in "Israel" and the occupied Palestinian territories (the West Bank and Gaza: henceforth "OPT"). The first consists of primary laws which establish the right of representatives of the Israeli government to declare a plant to be a protected "natural value" (ערכי טבע), and lay out the maximum penalties people can be charged with for causing "harm" ("פג'עה") to a protected plant; the second comprises secondary declarations in the form of lists of which plants are considered protected.

The 1963 Natural Parks and Nature Reserve Law (חוק גנים לאומיים ושמורות טבע, תשכ"ג - 1963) belongs to the first strain. It empowered the Minister of Agriculture to declare a plant to be protected within "Israel," subject to the approval of a government council (ch. 5, 40-42); and declared that harming a plant was an offence punishable by up to three months' imprisonment (chapter 6).

In the text of the law, "harm" is specifically defined to include "picking," "קטיפה," and "gathering," "נטילה." No systematic distinction is established based on how much of the plant was harvested, and whether the plant was foraged for personal or commercial purposes. Nor is there any qualification of what qualities a plant should have to be considered "protected," or any obligation for the government to pursue or present scientific evidence that a given plant is overharvested.

In 1969, The Decree on the Protection of Nature (צו בדבר הגנה על הטבע) (Military Order no. 363) gave similar authority to the occupying military, and criminalized foraging in the OPT. Military orders are enforced by military courts, whereas offenders in "Israel" go through civil courts.

Several plants were already on the list of protected natural values at this time, but they were not commonly foraged for food. 1977 proved a signal year in this regard: with the "Proclamation of National Parks and Nature Reserves" [אכרזת גנים לאומיים ושמורות טבע (ערבי טבע י מוגנים), תשל״ח -1977], Minister of Agriculture Ariel Sharon (אריאל שרון) added za’tar ("אזוב מצוי") and maryamiyya ("מרוה משולשת") to the list. The inclusion of these plants, and especially za'tar, was more disastrous and insulting than previous bans on foraging had been. Za'tar, besides being a source of food and income for many poor or disabled Palestinians, has immense cultural significance in Palestine.

Arab Palestinians—and only Arabs—were arrested, fined, and even imprisoned, with no clear correspondence between the amount they had foraged and their sentencing. Most of the recorded court cases in "Israel" deal with za'tar, though court cases in legal databases show that Palestinians were also fined and tried for foraging maryamiyya (FN 38). An atmosphere of intimidation prevailed, with many habitual foragers feeling newly afraid to leave their homes.

In 1998, a new National Parks, Natural Reserves, National Sites and Memorial Sites Law [חוק גנים לאומיים, שמורות טבע, אתרים לאומיים ואתרי הנצחה, תשנ"ח-1998] replaced the prior National Parks law (of 1992, which had itself replaced the aforementioned 1963 law). It removed the necessity for an ecological council to approve the Minister's declaration of a "protected" status, and increaed the maximum prison time for a violation of the law to three years. Throughout all periods, however, the penalty usually imposed has been a fine.

Since the imposition of the harsher law, two notable updates have been made to the list of protected plants: the 2005 list of Protected Natural Assets) [אכרזת גנים לאומיים, שמורות טבע, אתרים לאומיים ואתרי הנצחה (ערכי טבע מוגנים), התשס״ה–2005] replaced the 1979 list, and added عَكُوب ('akoub; "עכובית הגלגל"), a culturally important and commonly foraged thistle. [1] Za'tar and maryamiyya remained on the list. The 2005 declaration also specifies that the species on the list are protected if they are wild, but not if they are cultivated (section 3). This provision allows Israeli farmers to profit from the farming and sale of za'tar.

The second notable update came in 2019: the Nature and Parks Authority (שרשות הטבע והגנים) announced that it would redact the absolute ban on harvesting za'tar, maramiyya, and 'akoub, instead setting a maximum allowable amount for household consumption and cracking down on the sale of these plants, rather than on foraging itself.

Activists believe this partial measure to have occurred as a result of legal and public pressure instigated by an open letter which human rights lawyer Rabea Eghbariah sent the Israeli Attorney General and Environmental Protection Minister requesting that za'tar, 'akkoub, and maryamiyya be removed from the "protected" list in advance of their foraging seasons, noting the inconsistency in sentencing and the law's disproportionate criminalization of Palestinians. (The specific cultural importance of these three plants is attested by the fact that they, among the dozens of species considered "protected," form the basis of Eghbariah's complaint.) The Nature and Parks Authority (NPA), however, insisted that an independent assessment, and not public criticism, had led them to announce the change in policy. And fines levied at Palestinian foragers did continue despite the announced change in policy, at least through March 2020.

Nor is the change complete in scope, even if it were being upheld. Eghbariah notes that "It is not yet clear if the change will also apply [in the West Bank] - and there it is a parallel system, less transparent and much more predatory. The enforcement is much worse, including the confiscation of cars, and the judgment is in a military court. We will continue to monitor."

[1] Eghbariah writes that the "Protected Natural Values Declaration (Amendment No. 2) (Judea and Samaria), 1978" added za'tar and maramiyya to the list in the OPT, and the "Protected Natural Values Declaration (Amendment No. 2) (Judea and Samaria), 2004" added 'akoub. I have been unable to find or independently verify the text of either declaration. From a list of secondary legislation related to military orders, I believe the declaration being amended is "הכרזה בדבר ערכי טבע מוגנים (יהודה והשומרון), התשל"ג - 1973".

[ID: Light shone through a blue glass vase is cast over the bundle of sage and glass of tea. End ID]

"Preservation" and Green Colonialism

Of course, Palestinians and activists also suspect that the underlying purpose of the ban is to starve and intimidate Palestinians, rather than any real concern with nature. Israeli botanist Nativ Dudai points out that foraging causes much less harm to these plants than Israeli bulldozers do. Samir Naamneh, who sells foraged produce, also dismisses the environmentalist excuse for the ban on foraging:

We feel, and we know, and we’re sure, that the laws are made, on principle, against the Arab residents of the country, to hurt their livelihoods. It’s part of the pressure that Israel puts on us to starve us out.

The 1977 decision to add za'tar and maryamiyya to the protected plants list was ostensibly taken in accordance with a report submitted by a group of Israeli ecologists, which suggested that the species were in danger due to over-foraging. However, Israeli forager Yatir Sade (יתיר שדה) suggests that the converse may be true, and that the people who wrote the report might have taken their cues from the government.

On June 20, 1977, the inauguration of the Begin (בגין) Cabinet marked the first time that a right-wing party had held a majority in the Knesset; this dramatic change in Israeli politics would come to be called "המהפך" ("HaMahapakh"), "the revolution" or "the upheaval."

Sade's research reveals that, about a week later, on June 27, 1977, a team of ecologists at the NPA submitted a list of species to the Legal Bureau at the Ministry of Agriculture (משרד החקלאות), suggesting that they be declared protected. The list is accompanied by a letter of legal advice signed by a partner in the law firm Reva, Shein, Katz & Co. This initial suggested list did not include four species which would end up on the final 1977 list, all of them important culinary and medicinal herbs among Palestinians and Bedouin Arabs: babonj (בבונג / بابونج / golden chamomile), maryamiyya, za'tar, and ss'atr barriyy (صعتر بري / קורנית מקורקפת / Persian hyssop). [1]

But about four months later, on October 16, another letter was sent on behalf of the same law firm, requesting that these four species be added to the "protected" list, and that the standard procedure for adding them be expedited. Accordingly, on November 2, only a few days after receiving the letter, the Minister's office published the final declaration, with golden chamomile, maryamiyya, za'tar, and Persian hyssop newly added. The new Minister of Agriculture Ariel Sharon (אריאל שרון), part of the First Begin Cabinet and co-founder, with Menachem Begin, of the right-wing party HaLikud (הליכוד), signed the new declaration. It therefore seems likely that these plants were added to the list for political reasons and precisely because of their importance to Palestinian Arabs, rather than from any ecological concern.

It is also relevant that the 1963 and 1998 laws which criminalized foraging also laid out guidelines for the creation of national parks, nature reserves, and military and state memorial land. The text of the 1998 law, in particular, describes the goals behind creating these sites, and gives the council it establishes the authority to do anything necessary to promote those goals. These goals include to "protect natural and heritage sites" ("הגן על ערכי הטבע והמורשת"); to "maintain international scientific relations" in the field of nature conservation ("קיים קשרים מדעיים בין-לאומיים") ; to promote education about conservation among youth and students (7. (א)); and to promote travel and tourism (14. (א)).

Many discourses and strategies can here be seen operating together. The creation of nature reserves, state heritage sites, and military memorial land all within the text of the same law explicitly connects environmentalism to patriotism; creates special reasons for bringing land under state control, and imposing special codes of behavior on this land (i.e., natural and heritage sites); connects environmentalism to state ownership and control of land, and connects both to the education of youth and the creation of the ideal Israeli civic subject; uses environmentalism to promote Israel internationally as a scientific authority, a responsible steward of land (unlike the indigenous population), and thus a legitimate state; and sanitizes and 'advertizes' Israel internationally by associating sites of destruction, annexation, and ethnic cleansing with the concepts of environmental protection, natural beauty, preservation, and heritage.

Israel frequently declares land a "nature reserve" as a method of annexation, only to later build settlements on it (see Karimi-Schmidt p. 369 ff). Palestinians are forbidden from foraging certain plants within nature reserves (other plants are forbidden for foraging everywhere), and from constructing on them; they are thus alienated from this land, and dissociated from the ways in which they have long related to it. Yatir Sade points out that the four plants added to the original 1977 draft of the protected species list are typically harvested out in open areas, rather than within yards and villages; declaring these areas nature reserves, or arresting Arabs who enter them under suspicion of foraging, prevents Palestinians from moving freely, and from claiming any connection to the land. [3]

The "Green Patrol" (HaSayeret HaYeruka / הסיירת הירוקה), the enforcement unit for the NPA, was founded in 1976 by then-Minister of Agriculture Aharon Ozan and director of the Israel Land Administration Meir Zore, for the specific purpose of policing "open areas" (שטחים פתוחים) which had been declared state land, and preventing Palestinians from "tresspassing" ("הסגות גבול") or illegally building in these areas. [4] Through these strategies, land is appropriated for the state's and settlers' purposes under the guise of environmentalism.

In much the same way, the list of protected species is ultimately about using environmental science to cement state authority. Irus Braverman points out that endangered species lists function as a means of regulation, not least by being ostensibly objective: "their global power, mobility, and ubiquity derive from their configuration as scientific, technical, and quantitative, and therefore as neutral and apolitical." The protected species list thus joins other "environmental infrastructures," such as renewable energy and agricultural technologies, as a "mechanism[] for land appropriation and dispossession" of the indigenous population: together, these infrastructures make up a strategy that is alternately called greenwashing, green grabbing, and green colonialism.

[1] Letter regarding the declaration of national parks and nature reserves (protected natural values), 1977, from Ofir Katz to Tovi R. [מכתב בנושא אכרזת גנים לאומיים ושמורות טבע (ערכי טבע מוגנים) תשל"ז-1977, מאופיר כץ לטובי ר'], 6/27/1977. In: Proclamation of National Parks and Nature Reserves (Protected Natural Values), Ministry of Agriculture and Rural Development [אכרזת גנים לאומיים ושמורות טבע (ערכי טבע מוגנים), משרד החקלאות ופיתוח הכפר], January 1965–October 1982. State Archives, ISA-moag-moag-00119qy, pp. 164-175.

[2] Letter regarding a proposal to declare national parks and nature reserves (protected natural values), 1977, from Ofir Katz to Tovi R., [מכתב בנושא הצעה לאכרזת גנים לאומיים ושמורות טבע (ערכי טבע מוגנים) תשל"ז-1977] 10/24/1977. In: Proclamation of National Parks and Nature Reserves (Protected Natural Values), Ministry of Agriculture and Rural Development, January 1965–October 1982. State Archives, ISA-moag-moag-00119qy, p. 160.

[3] Yatir Sade, Master's thesis, pp. 68-9. Personal communication.

[4] Sade points out that Yehuda Reva (יהודה רווה), another partner of the law firm that provided legal advice on the matter of the 1977 protected species list, was also prominent in helping the Green Patrol expropriate Palestinian land and property within the bounds of Israeli law (Master's thesis, p. 44, FN 34).

Foraging and Food Sovereignty

The disastrous effect of these strategies and regulations should not be understated—but nor should their power to control Palestinians' behavior be overstated. Palestinians reference specific plants in writing and in art (including ceramics and tatreez), bring dried herbs to family members abroad, purchase or grow important culinary plants wherever they live in the diaspora, and continue to forage plants despite harassment and the risk of fines and arrest. Plants are an important way of symbolizing, and of practicing, resistance, resilience, and rootedness in history and in the land.

Foraging can be a strategy of reconnection in defiance of dispossession. Rochelle Davis notes that Palestinians often visit the villages from which they were displaced in order to gather grape leaves and herbs, “ingesting the place by consuming the land’s produce” (p. 172). Through this practice, as Anne Meneley puts it, "[e]ating becomes an act of momentary repossession."

The message boards on PalestineRemembered.com attest to this practice. When Mouttaz Ammoura returned to الطيرة (Al-Tira), the village from which his family was displaced, he noted maramiyya as the one plant he brought back with him:

Now I live in Canada, but far-away from AL-TIRA. When I came back, I brought with me some sand, maramieh, few stones, & water from Tirat Haifa. Yes, I brought all of that to remember al-Tira & to have it close to my hart back in Canada.

In an interview conducted in a Palestinian refugee camp in 1998, women demonstrate this same association of plant life with place:

They spoke of the names of land plots around ~ Tjzim (Wadi al-Nahel, Durat al-Qamar, Shana), and the act of naming evoked an aura of magic for those who remembered the places [...]. They also related to the wild plants. The women, who felt we had shifted to familiar ground, called out the names — khubeize (mallow), ‘aqub (tumble thistle), maramiyyeh (sage), za’atar (thyme).

Mirna Bamieh's Palestine Hosting Society put on an Edible Wild Plants Table, which registered the connection of foraging to place, local knowledge, and temporality. The project, which focused on "identifying the names, forms, locations and availability of wild plants in Palestine’s nature," involved a menu created from foraging in the mountainous regions of Palestine during the blooming season "from mid-January until the end of February."

Foraging is also one strategy among many that Palestinians use—alongside instituting agricultural innovations, creating native seed banks, educating about Palestinian cuisine, and seeking out contracts with foreign markets—to attain food self-sufficiency and sovereignty. It is therefore both a symbolically defiant strategy, and a practical one. Palestinians illustrate a belief in the illegitimacy of Israel's laws and claims, and insist on the primacy of their relationship to the land, when they forage for food.

When asked whether he believed that 2020 would bring the promised relaxation in criminalization of foragers, Samir Naamneh, who has been repeatedly fined, arrested, and tried over the past decades, told Dror Foyer (דרור פויר):

"We'll live and see, but it won't change anything for me: whether it's allowed or not, I'm going to forage. I do the work I love, and I'm at peace with myself. The fact that I'm making a statement to the State of Israel and their law—that's enough for me."

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Palestinian heirloom seeds

Ingredients:

250g filtered water

2.5g (1 1/2 tsp) high-quality loose leaf black tea

4g (1 1/2 Tbsp) dried three-lobed sage, or substitute another variety of sage

Sugar, to taste (optional)

Dried three-lobed sage can be purchased from a Palestinian brand such as Al-'Ard or Yaffa (not "Jaffa").

Instructions:

1. Combine tea with just-boiled water and steep for two minutes.

2. Add sage and steep for another minute.

3. Pour into tea glasses and serve hot.

Times and quantities are geared towards producing a tea that is mild enough to be enjoyed without sugar. Adjust as per preference.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for banning a child from my house?

It's not my child, btw- it's my cousin, an 8 y/o autistic boy. I am 15 and it's technically not my house.

For context, my cousin has EXTREMELY severe autism, to the point where he quite literally cannot form any connections with people and does not sit down at all. He is always running around, yelling in garbled speech, and doesn't understand words, sentences, or commands. He only responds to his name when his mother calls it. He isn't intelligent mentally, either. I do love him a lot in spite of how he has never paid attention to me or treats both me and everyone else around him as though they don't exist.

I have (had?) a cat. I have raised this cat for 3 years and I got this little furball when he was only 2 weeks old. I gave him milk and cared for him so, so much. He was a Persian-British mix and was, frankly, pretty dumb and sleepy all the time. Like a little doll.

My cousin also, apparently, decided that my cat, Velvet, was doll-like, because he grabbed Velvet and refused to let the cat go. I was in the bathroom at the time and only heard the cat's mewing. Nobody else was home. My cousin thought it would be nice to throw Velvet out of the window. Our 4th-story window. Velvet was a spoilt little thing and had never really lived outside of a house, and consequently, died. My cousin? Didn't care. Just went away from the open window and went back to running around the house.

I came out only a few seconds later and was very confused as to just WHERE was the previously mewing cat, and obviously I couldn't just ask my cousin, since he can't talk and wouldn't be able to think of it either. My mom found the fucking CORPSE when she came back home. I was horrified and, while I don't think this was the proper thing to do to a little boy who has absolutely ZERO awareness of his surroundings, I proceeded to absolutely scream my head off at my cousin while grabbing his arm, which resulted in an absolute meltdown from him and my aunt (who had also just arrived) having to physically pry me off him as I was crying. I don't think I can be really blamed for being upset over my cousin KILLING my BELOVED PET just because he was born wrong. I also sort of yelled at my aunt to never come here or bring her son here ever again. My mother has severely chastised me for that and had ME grounded. What the fuck. Mental illnesses aren't all sunshine and rainbows, y'all. Ugh. I feel like I AM the asshole, but honestly. Consider the circumstances. I hate it here and I miss my fucking cat.

[aphroditelovesu]

Persians

❝commission: another one shot that explores y/n's life as a captive (and pregnant!) Queen in Babylon. I'd ideally like it to include some sort of interaction with one or more of the Persians (ie Bessus, Darius, Bagoas) but I'm fine with you taking creative liberties so long as we get to see what's y/n's been up to before Alexander gets to Babylon. — requested by 💻 anon.

❝ 📜 — lady l: It's been a while since I wrote something like this but I'm happy with the result! I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes. Another story for the TLQ universe! ❤️

❝tw: slight threat.

❝word count: 2,921.

Life in Babylon was not what you had expected when you were taken captive, but surprisingly, it was kind to you. Although technically you were a prisoner, the reality was far from what one would imagine for someone in that role. There were no shackles, only silken veils. There was no scarcity, only abundance. What should have been a prison had become a kind of gilded exile, where you enjoyed comforts that had previously seemed unattainable.

Your freedom had its limits, of course. You could wander through the bustling markets and lush gardens of Babylon, but always under the watchful eye of the guards that Darius had assigned to follow your every step. They were not hostile, just firm, as if they were more protectors than jailers. This was a direct order from the Persian king himself, and no one dared to defy it. After all, disobeying Darius was a risk that few were willing to take.

It was impossible to ignore the speculation that such kindness generated. Perhaps it was a political gesture, a reflection of the warmth Alexander had shown the Persian king's family after his conquests. Or perhaps Darius was trying to ensure his own safety in the event that Babylon fell to Macedonian rule. But in the end, these were not your concerns. What mattered was that you were treated as someone of great importance, and that in itself was a relief amid the uncertainty.

The luxuries that now filled your life were unimaginable in the days when you traveled with the Macedonians. Here, resources seemed endless. Fine clothes, rare perfumes, and exotic dishes were part of your routine. You were attended to by devoted servants and received a treatment that only extended to the highest members of the court. There was no doubt about it: you were revered as a queen.

And Queen you were, even on the enemy side. This title was not just a formality; it carried with it a weight that not even the Persians dared to ignore. The respect shown to you went beyond any political or military rivalry. You were someone whose position transcended borders and conflicts, and this ensured that, at least for the time being, your stay in Babylon would be comfortable, almost pleasant.

You sat on the balcony of your room, savoring fresh fruit that had been served on an ornate silver plate. The warm breeze carried the distant scent of dry earth, but the now cloudy sky suggested that the long-awaited rain was about to fall. It was rare for it to rain during the scorching months of the Babylonian summer, and many in the city considered it a bad omen.

For you, however, the rain was a welcome relief. Ever since you were a child, you had loved the sound of the drops hitting the ground, the coolness it brought to the air, the unique scent that emanated from the wet earth. It was a comfort that seemed almost familiar to you, a distant memory of simpler times.

As you admired the heavy clouds dancing in the sky, a soft voice broke the silence.

"Would Your Majesty like anything else?"

You turned quickly, an instinctive reflex that betrayed your constant tension. However, the stiffness in your shoulders disappeared when your eyes met the face of Bagoas, the Persian eunuch who was your servant — or slave, as the court preferred to call him.

Bagoas was a gift from Darius, given to you shortly after your arrival in Babylon. While many saw him as mere property, you couldn’t accept that idea. To you, he was more than an object or an obligation; he was a human being with his own pains and stories.

Yet the reality of his situation was inescapable. Freeing him was a desire that burned in your heart, but for now, it remained beyond your reach. There was no way to give him the freedom he deserved. You didn’t have the resources or the power to do so now.

Even so, you treated him with all the dignity you could offer. You tried to ease the burden of his condition whenever possible. It was a small gesture, perhaps insignificant to some, but to you, it was important.

As Bagoas stood before you, politely waiting for your response, you made a mental note: when this was all over, when Alexander captured Babylon — and you believed he would — you would free Bagoas. More than that, you would reward him for his service by ensuring that he had a dignified and comfortable life.

It was a dream, perhaps a little naive, but it was something you held on to firmly. Because, in the midst of all the uncertainty and chaos, believing that you could do something good for someone else was what gave you the strength to carry on.

"No, thank you, Bagoas. I’m fine." You replied with a slight smile, trying to convey reassurance.

The eunuch simply bowed his head in a respectful gesture and began to leave, but you called out to him before he could take the first step.

"Bagoas, wait."

He stopped immediately, his deep brown eyes meeting yours. There was something about the intensity of his gaze that always made you slightly uncomfortable, as if he saw more than you cared to reveal. You adjusted yourself on the cot, crossing your legs in an effort to appear more at ease.

"Are you hungry?" You asked, pointing to the fruit platter beside you. The plate was piled high with fresh, sweet delicacies, a true luxury in times like these, accompanied by a glass of wine that remained untouched. "I’m not very hungry, and it would be a waste to leave this out."

There was a good reason why the wine remained untouched. You were pregnant. Although at that time wine was often considered safer than water, you didn’t want to take any chances. It was a simple precaution, but one that you insisted on maintaining. It might still be early in the pregnancy, but you were already attached to the life growing inside you.

Bagoas tilted his head slightly, which seemed to be a gesture of surprise, before murmuring with his usual softness:

"That’s very kind, but I’m not hungry."

You pursed your lips, studying him carefully. He was too thin, almost skeletal. You imagined that this was due to both his condition as a slave and his "profession" as a dancer. He needed to maintain a slim physique, but this seemed excessive, almost unhealthy. Something in you revolted at this.

"I would like some company." You insisted, your voice coming out a little firmer than intended. Maybe even harsh, but you didn’t mean to intimidate him. You took a deep breath and softened your tone, "Please."

Bagoas hesitated for a moment, his expression remaining neutral, but you saw the tension in his shoulders relax slightly. He took a step forward, obeying your request. It wasn’t often that someone in your position insisted that he stay, and the gesture didn’t go unnoticed by him.

As he approached, you pushed the tray aside, indicating for him to sit. You weren’t sure exactly why you felt the need to keep him close at that moment. Maybe it was the heavy silence that surrounded you, or the need for a human gesture in a place where everything seemed cold and calculated. Whatever the reason, you knew you didn’t want to be alone.

Although Bagoas' company was silent, you felt comfortable around the eunuch. And from the slight smile on his stoic, handsome face, you knew he felt the same, even if he didn’t show it.

The little gestures really do count.

It was a rare occasion to be summoned for an audience with Darius. The Persian king generally preferred to keep you away from the intrigues of the court and the politics that were raging around him, especially now, considering your condition. You knew that this distancing was motivated more by political expediency than personal kindness, but it was a relief nonetheless. The last thing you needed was more stress amidst the chaos that already dominated your life.

Sighing deeply, you smoothed the red tunic you wore, trying to calm your nervousness before entering the room. The fabric slid softly under your fingers, but it did nothing to dispel the feeling of unease growing in your chest. As you crossed the threshold, your eyes immediately fell on Darius, sitting in the center of the opulent room. He smiled warmly, as he always did when he saw you, a polite gesture that you were unsure if it was genuine or strategic.

Beside him, however, stood Bessus, whose presence was like a thorn in your flesh. Just seeing him made your stomach turn. Every few interactions you’d had with him had been unpleasant enough to last a lifetime. His dark eyes glittered piercingly as he watched you, his expression colder than Darius��s, almost as if he were sizing you up.

Darius, however, maintained his serene and welcoming posture, pointing to a chair next to Bessus, "Welcome. Please, have a seat."

You hesitated for a brief moment, but knew that refusing was not an option. You walked to the indicated place with controlled steps, each movement calculated to mask the discomfort you felt. The air seemed thicker there, charged with unspoken tension, and as you took your seat, you couldn’t help but wonder what the reason for this unusual meeting was — and if Bessus was part of the reason you had been summoned.

Darius cleared his throat before standing, moving with the calm and elegance expected of a king. He took a jug of wine from a nearby sideboard and began filling the cups on the table: first Bessus’s, then yours, and lastly his own. You smiled politely and thanked him in a low tone, even though you knew you wouldn’t touch the drink.

"Why don’t we get straight to the point?" Bessus said abruptly, breaking the silence. His eyes, cold and calculating, turned to Darius, who sighed at his relatives' impatience.

With a resigned look, Darius sat back down, adjusting himself in his chair and straightening his back in a regal posture. He picked up his wine glass, taking a sip before speaking, "What my relative means," He began, his tone gentler than Bessus’s, "is that we would like to hear your opinion on Alexander’s next moves."

You froze for a brief moment, feeling the weight of Darius’s words. This was it. Of course it was. Your heart began to beat faster as your mind processed the situation.

Undeterred by the storm that was brewing inside you, you placed one hand on the table and the other instinctively on your belly. Your gaze fell on the surface of the table as you tried to gather your thoughts. What could you possibly say?

Normally, you would have a clear idea of ​​Alexander’s next steps. Before all this, before you were thrown into this time, you knew his story from books, studying his military campaigns, his strategies, and even the consequences of his decisions. But now... Everything was wrong.

The events unfolding before you did not match what you knew. History had changed, and that left you completely disoriented. And even if you knew what Alexander would do, you could not, would not betray him. You couldn't, even if you wanted to.

Betrayal, after all, was something you could not bear. Not like Perdiccas did. And more than that, you knew that a Persian victory could be catastrophic. The Hellenistic Age had to happen, whether you wanted it or not. It was a crucial moment in the development of Western civilization, a turning point that could not be avoided.

Taking a deep breath, you looked up, trying to appear calm and thoughtful.

"It’s hard to predict Alexander’s moves." You began, choosing your words carefully, "He’s an unpredictable man, and his strategic mind is... Unique. Every step he takes seems calculated, but at the same time, he’s capable of surprises that no one expects."

You stopped, looking at the two men in front of you.

"However, I believe that underestimating him would be a fatal mistake. He’s ambitious, yes, but he’s also much more than that. He fights with a determination that comes from something greater than just power or conquest."

You sighed and frowned slightly, "I don’t know what he’ll do next. Alexander hasn’t shared his plans with me, so I’m of no use to you in this matter."

Darius tilted his head slightly, considering your words. Bessus, on the other hand, just narrowed his eyes, clearly dissatisfied with the lack of concrete information. You stood firm, knowing that even surrounded by suspicion, you had protected not only Alexander, but the course of history.

Darius sighed deeply and turned calmly to Bessus.

"Satisfied? I told you this would be useless." His tone was slightly irritated.

Bessus took a sip of his wine before setting the cup down with deliberate slowness. He arched an eyebrow, a thin smile forming on his lips.

"Really? But then, why don’t I believe a word our guest is saying?"

His words struck you like a sharp blade. Your heart raced, the discomfort in your chest growing rapidly. There was something in the way he spoke, so full of venom, that it made your skin crawl. He was testing you, teasing you, trying to draw out something from you that he suspected was hidden.

You kept your eyes locked on his, feeling the anger rise inside you, hot and pulsing. It was rare that you allowed yourself to feel something so intense, but Bessus seemed to have a talent for bringing out the worst in you. His gaze hardened, his voice coming out firm, almost defiant.

"I'm not lying."

The room seemed to grow quieter, as if even the air had stopped to listen. Bessus leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes taking in every detail of your face. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to say something else, but Darius intervened, his deep voice cutting through the tension.

"Bessus, that’s enough." The authority in his tone left no room for argument. He turned to you, offering you an almost placating smile. "Forgive my relative. He has a tendency to be... Too direct."

You only nodded slightly, though anger still burned inside you. You wanted to say more, but you knew that any extra words could be used against you. Bessus remained silent, but the suspicious glint in his eyes told you that he was still not convinced.

The tension in the room was palpable, but you knew that you had come away from this confrontation without compromising yourself. For now.

Darius frowned slightly, clearly bothered by Bessus’s stance. He placed his wine glass on the table with a deliberate gesture and stood up.

"Bessus, you are no longer needed." Darius spoke, his voice low but full of authority. He looked at his relative with a mixture of patience and warning. "Why don’t you give us a moment?"

Bessus looked like he wanted to protest, but Darius’s steady gaze made it clear there was no room for objection. He snorted discreetly, pushing his chair back with a loud thud and standing up.

"As you wish, Your Majesty." Bessus replied, his tone dry and barely concealing his displeasure. He gave you one last look, his eyes still full of suspicion, before leaving the room.

When the door closed behind him, Darius sighed heavily, as if he had just dealt with an especially stubborn child. He sat back down, relaxing his posture a little, and looked at you with a friendlier expression.

"Forgive Bessus," Darius said with a slight shake of his head. "He is an intense man. And, unfortunately, a bit suspicious by nature."

You nodded, trying to remain calm. You could still feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins, but the absence of Bessus made the atmosphere considerably lighter.

Darius studied you for a moment before continuing, his tone now more relaxed:

"I wanted to take this opportunity to thank you for your... Patience. I know your situation here is not exactly what you would have chosen, but I hope you know that we are doing our best to make you comfortable."

His words seemed genuine, and for a moment you felt less like a prisoner and more like a guest — though you still knew full well that it was a precarious position.

"Thank you, Your Majesty." You responded softly, trying to hide the confusion you felt.

He smiled, a gesture that seemed almost fatherly.

"You are very perceptive, you know? I see it in the way you choose your words. A rare but appreciated talent in a Queen."

You blinked, surprised by the unexpected compliment. You didn’t know if he was trying to manipulate you or if he truly admired your ability to navigate the delicate political dance of that court.

Darius raised his cup again, though not to toast, but to sip the wine calmly.

"Now, please tell me," He began, his tone almost casual, "is there anything we can do to make your stay more pleasant?"

The friendly gesture took you by surprise, but the question seemed sincere. It was hard not to wonder what the true intention behind his kindness was.

But maybe... Maybe Darius really was just kind and cared enough about you.

[mashamorevvna]

an extremely cute thing about karlach and astarion is that she treats him like this extremely fussy and malevolent persian cat that scratches and bites unprovoked but it's HER malicious and conniving little kitty cat and that means he's not so bad after all

[mossadspypigeon]

the pro palestine obsession with “armed resistance,” needs to be studied under a microscope.

“there is only one solution, intifada revolution.”

“resistance is justified when people are occupied.”

both of these catchy little chants display a laughable lack of knowledge, but let’s discuss the second one in particular tonight.

the people screaming it truly don’t know:

a. jewish history

b. what occupation or resistance are.

israel is jewish land. it always has been. it’s where judaism and the jewish people come from. it has been conquered and occupied by oppressors—british, arab, turk, persian, babylonian, greek, roman, byzantine—for over 3,000 years. no matter how hard they try, no matter how badly they wish they could make us disappear, the jew hating world cannot erase that history.

as established, jews are a historically colonized and occupied people. so why then is our resistance not justified? because we have better weapons? because of lies that say we are in power?

who has been IN LESS POWER throughout history, around the world, than jews? (no this is not an oppression olympics thing). when we had israel and judea the first time, empires couldn’t leave us alone. after, we have been dragged from our homeland in chains, enslaved in some places and stripped of rights and humanity in most others, raped, mass burnt, genocided, stolen from, attacked, relegated to humiliating professions, not able to own land, corralled like animals into ghettos and the pale and mellahs (the arab version of a ghetto), massacred, treated like scum, slandered, demonized, villainized, terrorized, forced to assimilate over and over and over, systematically murdered, expelled and BANNED for no reason at all except that we live and continue to live. in every generation, they come for us because we have the audacity to exist.

the one thing we wanted, for over 2,000 years of this horror, was to return to our home. if we were in diaspora, we longed for it, we prayed for it, we wished for it, we yearned, and when we could, we returned. if we were IN israel, we suffered for it. we lived as third class not-even-citizens. we endured the crusades and the arab riots.

l’shanah haba’ah b’yerushalayim: next year in jerusalem.

we have never stopped hoping. and now that we have it back, now that it is ours again, now that we offered peace deal after peace deal and gave up parts of our own ancestral land just so people who hate us will leave us be… the world tells us that the continuation of jew hatred, of the nazis and their ancestors, of all of our oppressors, of the horror we have endured around the world for centuries, is ACTUAL resistance?

that, essentially, what was done to us by the romans, the arabs, the turks, the babylonians, the persians, the russians, the syrian greeks, the church, the spanish, the nazis, etc etc etc…was always justified because it was “resisting” us?

because that is what the pro palestinian movement is: resistance against jews and jewish rights. that is what “from the river to the sea palestine will be free,” and its original form “from water to water palestine will be arab,” mean: NO. MORE. JEWS.

and that is what they are talking about when they use the word “resistance”: eradicating jews. aka the goal of every single oppressor we have ever had.

hitler said “my struggle.” before him, his political influences said the same. every time we were massacred, expelled, stripped of rights, “rioted” against, rounded up, the oppressor framed it as a persecuted society fighting back against the evil jews. that WE were a threat that must be purged. a “force” to be resisted.

so that is what these protestors consider liberation today: a world without jews. that is what they support and march and clamor for. that is why they hate zionism, the movement made by jews for jews, that was created to ensure we could finally have agency again. because once more, for the millionth fucking time, we are that “force” that must be resisted.

if not, then why is OUR landback movement, our decolonization called nazism?

why is our self defense lied about and called genocide? why is our own oppression used against us?

why are we constantly painted as the aggressor?

why is our history stolen and our indigeneity denied? why are we told to “go back to europe”?

why do they insist on calling their precious “palestine,” the name COLONIZERS gave to the region?

why is it okay to change the truth when jews are involved?

if not, why is israel called an apartheid colonialist project?

jews, who do not have a history of colonization. who were a vulnerable people, most of our population forcibly displaced and prevented from returning to our land, living at the mercy of people who hated us for centuries. we are oppressing the people who were our oppressors. who conquered our land, built their third holiest site on the RUINS of our holiest? who want us wiped from the earth and driven into the sea? who, after they destroy israel, g-d forbid, want to hunt down jews everywhere?

if the pro palestinian crowd is not “resisting” jews, then why do they target synagogues and jewish businesses?

if not, then why is it that when we promise ourselves and the world “never again,” and ACT TO KEEP THAT PROMISE, we are evil? when we build an army so it will never happen again, so we will never be at the mercy of others again, that army is an “occupation force”?

when we are fired upon and return fire, we are suddenly the ones who fired first? every single time?

when our people are massacred, raped, and stolen, and we respond with force to take out the enemy that has consistently committed crimes against us for decades, that constantly threatens our eradication, we are condemned by the world?

if not, why is our side never once acknowledged? why are they so afraid of what we have to say and what we can do? of what we represent: jews they can’t step on anymore?

every lie about us is believed fully without question or second thought, simply because the right words were used, the right buttons pushed. it’s almost like everything we do is considered heinous and unjustifiable…except setting down our weapons and dying.

the world hates a strong jew, a jew who won’t give in. a jew who actually and truly resists. that is why zionism is so hated. that is why israel is the villain. that is why we have always been considered a threat, because no matter what they threw at us, we wouldn’t give up.

(that is why antizionist jews exist, btw. as a response to thousands of years of oppression, they have lain down their weapons and spiritually died for the world, at their convenience, in the hope that for once, they won’t be hurt or killed. they have given up and surrendered and turned their backs on their own people for the illusion of safety. how sad is that? how tragic? that safety simply does not exist.)

anyway, if the anti israel crowd WASN’T resisting jews and jewish rights, they wouldn’t have to manipulate the narrative, demonize the jewish land back movement, coopt and erase our history, deny our ties to the land, support the people who want us eradicated, and/or fear the truth. in fact, they wouldn’t hate israel at all.

basically: they wouldn’t find any way they could to justify a world without jews, even if they have to delude themselves to do it.

yes, assholes, “zionist,” means jew no matter how many christian zionists exist in the world. it always has.

so no, not a single person chanting that horseshit knows what occupation or resistance is, and it’s likely they never will.

oh and also, pointing out the jew hate behind the palestinian and pro palestinian movements is not hating palestinians, aka arabs. ✌️

[trustymikh]

I just wanna stop by real quick to say that I really adore your Gio art, especially the little scenes with Persian... They're so good and you draw them so distinctively, they're all visually so full of character <3 Thank you!

awawawa thank you!!! :D

to me Giovanni is a perfect combination of that villain trope, 'horrible person who treats their pet better than anyone else' and someone who I can project my cat ownership experiences onto

I imagine she looooves to snuggle with him and every morning Giovanni cannot get up without giving her 'good morning' kisses first

[mewtwoandme]

I'm gonna be so honest right now. The ONLY thing about Giovanni I like is his Persian

He may be an evil gang leader and a deadbeat dad, but he sure treated that cat better than he did anyone else lol

[bunny-jpeg]

hey bunbun 🤍 can i have persian rolls and a pastry braid with champagne for lando norris? thank youuu

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! i'd love to hear from you! thank you to everyone who has submitted, these have been a lot of fun to work with! i love writing these <3 and for this once, i love a good sugar daddy au! so thank you for the submission and i hope you love this <3 (remember comments & reblogs are always welcomed!!)

persian rolls: "it's mandatory i finish. you getting to finish is a treat." + pastry braid: "your job is to make me cum. now get to work." + champagne: sugar daddy situation served by lando norris (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, sugar daddy au, sugar daddy!lando, oral sex (lando receiving), couch sex, cowgirl position, orgasm denial, hair pulling mean!lando

"pretty girl, such a pretty girl." he chuckled as he rubbed his cock up against your cheek. from the bridge of your nose to the corner of your mouth. he even watched your tongue dart out to taste his hard-on.

"lando." you whined.

he chuckled as he held your head by the hair with his other hand, "you really are something, huh? you want that pay raise. you want a little bit more in your wallet every week?" lando would freely give you whatever you wanted. he was smitten by you. but, if you were going to work for it. and work for it so hard. then who was he to deny you?

you were the sugar baby of one of the top drivers in the world, it was plain and simple. the story of how you two met was boring, but the life you lived after you two met was far more exciting. and while you were spoiled with all manner of the nicer things in life, everything came with a price.

and while lando would happily kiss you on the lips while on his boat or let his gaze linger when you showed him something you wanted to buy. his payments were compensation for his aggressive sexual kicks. every hickey was paid for in gold jewellery. every bruise on your hips and ass were paid for in cute clothes and stuffed animals. every mean word was paid for in orgasms. lando norris would bruise you behind, spit in your mouth and call you a slut, but by the time you were back home, you had a notification that l. norris had deposited money into your account.

so with his fat cock grazed across your lips, his heated words burned into your brain, "your job is to make me cum. now get to work." and hissed when you did exactly that.

your blow jobs were sloppy, but in the best way. they weren't refined the way a professional slut would've been, they were messy in a cute way. but you were always mindful of your teeth. your spit got on your chin and lips as you tried to take him to the root. you held onto his thighs as you worked your mouth on his cock.

lando loved the sight in front of him. he was on the couch with his cock out of his sweatpants and you were without any clothes, sucking him off like an obedient girl. he yanked your hair, "i love you like this. such a pretty little slut, you know exactly how to get me off. but, i want more. up on my lap now, where you truly belong."

you pulled your mouth off of his cock and wiped your mouth with the back of his hand before you scrambled to get up into his lap. you were trained to the t, you were so good for him. lando was a little surprised just how good you were. he helped sink his cock into you, your cunt was easy to slip into. you were soaked that the word 'soaked' didn't do it justice. regardless, it greatly turned lando on. you were quick like a rabbit, and lando had to grip onto your hips to slow you down a little.

"it's not a race." he said, softly yet firm. as much as he'd love to eat your cottontail, neither of you were rabbits so there was no need to move so fast. not that you were cumming anyway.

lando loved denying you orgasms, to watch you squirm and whine on his cock. you moved slower, guided by him. he kissed at your neck and chest while you took him impressively. he knew he was well above average and the biggest you've ever had. but you took it all so well. you bucked your hips with each of your movements and it made lando's mouth water.

"such a slutty girl." he purred, "you are so painfully slutty, would do anything for a little extra green in your pocket." he almost laughed and you moaned a little louder. he pulled you closer by your hips and let you ride him.

you could feel the pleasure fill your gut. you clutched onto his shoulders as you rocked your hips a little faster. the movements were hard and it only turned you on even more. that was all part of the game, how you two fucked. lando liked when it hurt a little, he liked when you moaned and squirmed. even when you were on top, you were still under him. he could move you anyway he liked.

"i'll always want you. someone's gotta keep my cock wet. no one else would let me treat them the way you let me treat you. you get off to it all, being used and paid off. you liked the money in your account and my cock on your lips."

you moaned as the pleasure only grew and grew with each of your movements. your nails bit into his shoulders. he looked hot in the black tank top and grey sweatpants. he was the type of man that women got addicted to.

he started to move your hips faster. he was chasing his own high over getting you to climax. he wanted to finish inside of you, he wanted to know a part of him was in you at all times. that left him excited,a shiver up his spine as he had you bouncing on his cock quickly once more. your eyes rolled back a little at the stimulation in your body.

"lando..." you moaned.

he quickly finished inside of you with a heavy groan and you stopped riding him. you sat there, legs on either side of his waist. you looked down at him with your near blissed out expression. you hadn't cum yet, but lando already beat you to it.

he looked up at you with a bit more clarity in his vision. he slapped your ass, the sound echoed in the living room. he raised his eyebrows at you and said, "it's mandatory i finish. you getting to finish is a treat. if you want to finish, you better work for it. now, c'mon, actually work for once in your life." and with shaky knees, you rode him like your life depended on it.

you knew that lando would make up for in the language he spoke. vast amounts of money tucked into your bank account. and when you limped him it would make the pain in your back a little less <3

[etz-ashashiyot]

Quotes from "Executed Jews" I want to especially highlight:

Two distinct patterns of antisemitism can be identified by the Jewish holidays that celebrate triumphs over them: Purim and Hanukkah. In the Purim version of antisemitism, exemplified by the Persian genocidal decrees in the biblical Book of Esther, the goal is openly stated and unambiguous: Kill all the Jews. In the Hanukkah version of antisemitism, whose appearances range from the Spanish Inquisition to the Soviet regime, the goal is still to eliminate Jewish civilization. But in the Hanukkah version, this goal could theoretically be accomplished simply by destroying Jewish civilization, while leaving the warm, de-Jewed bodies of its former practitioners intact.

For this reason, the Hanukkah version of antisemitism often employs Jews as its agents. It requires not dead Jews but cool Jews: those willing to give up whatever specific aspect of Jewish civilization is currently uncool. Of course, Judaism has always been uncool, going back to its origins as the planet's only monotheism, featuring a bossy and unsexy invisible God. Uncoolness is pretty much Judaism's brand, which is why cool people find it so threatening — and why Jews who are willing to become cool are absolutely necessary to Hanukkah antisemitism's success. These "converted" Jews are used to demonstrate the good intentions of the regime — which of course isn't antisemitic but merely requires that its Jews publicly flush thousands of years of Jewish civilization down the toilet in exchange for the worthy prize of not being treated like dirt, or not being murdered. For a few years. Maybe.

I wish I could tell the story of Ala's father concisely, compellingly, the way everyone prefers to hear about dead Jews. I regret to say that Benjamin Zuskin wasn't minding his own business and then randomly stuffed into a gas chamber, that his thirteen-year-old daughter did not sit in a closet writing an uplifting diary about the inherent goodness of humanity, that he did not leave behind sad-but-beautiful aphorisms pondering the absence of God while conveniently letting his fellow humans off the hook. He didn't even get crucified for his beliefs. Instead, he and his fellow Soviet Jewish artists — extraordinarily intelligent, creative, talented, and empathetic adults — were played for fools, falling into a slow-motion psychological horror story brimming with suspense and twisted self-blame. They were lured into a long game of appeasing and accommodating, giving up one inch after another of who they were in order to win that grand prize of being allowed to live.

Spoiler alert: they lost.

[...]

But Soviet support for Jewish culture was part of a larger plan to brainwash and coerce national minorities into submitting to the Soviet regime — and for Jews, it came at a very specific price. From the beginning, the regime eliminated anything that celebrated Jewish "nationality" that didn't suit its needs. Jews were awesome, provided they weren't practicing Jewish religion, studying traditional Jewish texts, using Hebrew, or supporting Zionism. The Soviet Union thus pioneered a versatile gaslighting slogan, which it later spread through its client states in the developing world and which remains popular today: it was not antisemitic, merely anti-Zionist. (In the process of not being antisemitic and merely being anti-Zionist, the regime managed to persecute, imprison, torture, and murder thousands of Jews.) What's left of Jewish culture once you surgically remove religious practice, traditional texts, Hebrew, and Zionism? In the Soviet Empire, one answer was Yiddish, but Yiddish was also suspect for its supposedly backwards elements. Nearly 15 percent of its words came directly from biblical and rabbinic Hebrew, so Soviet Yiddish schools and publishers, under the guise of "simplifying" spelling, implemented a new and quite literally antisemitic spelling system that eliminated those words' Near Eastern roots. Another answer was "folklore" — music, visual art, theater, and other creative work reflecting Jewish life — but of course most of that cultural material was also deeply rooted in biblical and rabbinic sources, or reflected common religious practices like Jewish holidays and customs, so that was treacherous too.

No, what the regime required were Yiddish stories that showed how horrible traditional Jewish practice was, stories in which happy, enlightened Yiddish-speaking heroes rejected both religion and Zionism (which, aside from its modern political form, is also a fundamental feature of ancient Jewish texts and prayers traditionally recited at least three times daily). This de-Jewing process is clear from the repertoire of the government-sponsored Moscow State Yiddish Theater, which could only present or adapt Yiddish plays that denounced traditional Judaism as backward, bourgeois, corrupt, or even more explicitly — as in the many productions involving ghosts or graveyard scenes — as dead. As its actors would be, soon enough.

The Soviet Union's destruction of Jewish culture commenced, in a calculated move, with Jews positioned as the destroyers. It began with the Yevsektsiya, committees of Jewish Bolsheviks whose paid government jobs from 1918 through 1930 were to persecute, imprison, and occasionally murder Jews who participated in religious or Zionist institutions — categories that included everything from synagogues to sports clubs, all of which were shut down and their leaders either exiled or "purged." This went on, of course, until the regime purged the Yevsektsiya members themselves.

The pattern repeated in the 1940s. As sordid as the Yeveksiya chapter was, I found myself more intrigued by the undoing of the Jewish Antifascist Committee, a board of prominent Soviet Jewish artists and intellectuals established by Joseph Stalin in 1942 to drum up financial support from Jews overseas for the Soviet war effort. Two of the more prominent names on the JAC's roster of talent were Solomon Mikhoels, the director of the Moscow State Yiddish Theater, and Ala's father Benjamin Zuskin, the theater's leading actor. After promoting these people during the war, Stalin decided these loyal Soviet Jews were no longer useful, and charged them all with treason. He had decided that this committee he himself created was in fact a secret Zionist cabal, designed to bring down the Soviet state. Mikhoels was murdered first, in a 1948 hit staged to look like a traffic accident. Nearly all the others — Zuskin and twelve more Jewish luminaries, including the novelist Dovid Bergelson, who had proclaimed Moscow as the center of the Yiddish future — were executed by firing squad on August 1952.

Just as the regime accused these Jewish artists and intellectuals of being too "nationalist" (read: Jewish), today's long hindsight makes it strangely tempting to read this history and accuse them of not being "nationalist" enough — that is, of being so foolishly committed to the Soviet regime that they were unable to see the writing on the wall. Many works on this subject have said as much. In Stalin's Secret Pogrom, the indispensable English translation of transcripts from the JAC "trial," Russia scholar Joshua Rubenstein concludes his lengthy introduction with the following:

As for the defendants at the trial, it is not clear what they believed about the system they each served. Their lives darkly embodied the tragedy of Soviet Jewry. A combination of revolutionary commitment and naive idealism had tied them to a system they could not renounce. Whatever doubts or misgivings they had, they kept to themselves, and served the Kremlin with the required enthusiasm. They were not dissidents. They were Jewish martyrs. They were also Soviet patriots. Stalin repaid their loyalty by destroying them.

This is completely true, and also completely unfair. The tragedy — even the term seems unjust, with its implied blaming of the victim — was not that these Soviet Jews sold their souls to the devil, though many clearly did. The tragedy was that integrity was never an option in the first place.

[...]

In Jerusalem that morning, Ala told me, in a sudden private moment of anger and candor, that the Soviet Union's treatment of the Jews was worse than Nazi Germany's. I tried to argue, but she shut me up. Obviously the Nazi atrocities against Jews were incomparable, a fact Ala later acknowledged in a calmer mood. But over four generations, the Soviet regime forced Jews to participate in and internalize their own humiliation - and in that way, Ala suggested, they destroyed far more souls. And they never, ever, paid for it.

"They never had a Nuremberg," Ala told me that day, with a quiet fury. "They never acknowledged the evil of what they did. The Nazis were open about what they were doing, but the Soviets pretended. They lured the Jews in, they baited them with support and recognition, they used them, they tricked them, and then they killed them. It was a trap. And no one knows about it, even now. People know about the Holocaust, but not this. Even here in Israel, people don't know. How did you know?"

— Excerpted from "Executed Jews," Chapter 4 of People Love Dead Jews by Dara Horn

(All emphasis mine)

Read the full chapter here.