#lebanese nature

[rainofthetwilight]

imagine....ninjago arabic dub, but everyone has different dialects instead of just speaking in fus7a

lloyd is syrian, kai and nya are lebanese or libyan (probably libyan), jay is morrocan, cole is egyptian, zane is iraqi, pixal is jordanian, and wu is stuck in fus7a lmao

arin is yemeni, sora, jordana and percival are lebanese (basically imperium as a whole r lebanese), wyldfyre is egyptian, euphrasia (and the cloud kingdom) is syrian, and ras would probably be any khaleegi dialect except iraqi (I'm sorry I cannot see him have any dialect other than a khaleegi one that's not iraqi, he's not deserving of iraqi it's too good for him 💪), and judging by cinder's voice in french he prob might be jordanian?? Ig???

[bigbuttonly]

Black Lebanon

[marsellabarsoum]

[roula-chreim-art]

This painting captures a striking interplay between whimsy and mystery. At the center, a vibrant harlequin figure dressed in bold, multicolored patterns sits within a large, Russian-Egg-Shaped frame, symbolizing both fragility and transformation. The figure’s jester hat and ruffled collar add a playful, theatrical element, but the serene, almost melancholic expression suggests deeper layers of introspection. The background features a serene forest with towering, ethereal trees stretching toward the light, while the forest floor resembles a surreal, checkered pathway, creating an illusion of movement and depth. Floral elements surrounding the harlequin bring a touch of life and color, symbolizing the harmony between nature and human emotion. This captivating work explores themes of duality, concealment, and the passage between different worlds, inviting viewers to question what lies beneath the surface.

[celesticadream]

about this week/sept 2k23

[traveldad]

Having a stay on the beach .. hope you are doing well sunshine 🌞 ☀️ 💛 ✨️

[silver-painting]

Going back to the motherland for a quick visit. I sure miss your ethereal beauty, Lebanon. 🇱🇧

[pebblegalaxy]

Sam's Journey: A Mother, Activist, and Ally Navigating Life with Purpose and Passion

I still remember the day I first met Sam, many years ago during my visit to Brazil. At the time, I had no idea that a simple encounter would leave such a lasting impression on me. We met on a sun-drenched beach, the waves gently lapping at the shore as Sam walked barefoot, her eyes bright with an unmistakable passion for life. It was immediately clear that she was someone special, someone with a…

[najia-cooks]

[ID: A decorative orange ceramic plate with a pyramid of green herbs and sesame seeds, topped with deep red sumac and more sesame seeds. End ID]

زعتر فلسطيني / Za'tar falastinia (Palestinian spice blend)

Za'tar (زَعْتَر; also transliterated "za'atar," "zaatar" and "zatar") is the name of a family of culinary herbs; it is also the name of a group of spice blends made by mixing these herbs with varying amounts of olive oil, sumac, salt, roasted sesame seeds, and other spices. Palestinian versions of za'tar often include caraway, aniseed, and roasted wheat alongside generous portions of sumac and sesame seeds. The resulting blend is bold, zesty, and aromatic, with a hint of floral sourness from the sumac, and notes of licorice and anise.

Za'tar is considered by Palestinians to have particular national, political, and personal importance, and exists as a symbol of both Israeli oppression and Palestinian home-making and resistance. Its major components, olive oil and wild thyme, are targeted by the settler state in large part due to their importance to ecology, identity, and trade in Palestine—settlers burn and raze Palestinian farmers' olive trees by the thousands each year. A 1977 Israeli law forbade the harvesting of wild herbs within its claimed borders, with violators of the law risking fines and confiscation, injury, and even death from shootings or land mines; in 2006, za'tar was further restricted, such that even its possession in the West Bank was met with confiscation and fines.

Despite the blanket ban on harvesting wild herbs (none of which are endangered), Arabs are the only ones to be charged and fined for the crime. Samir Naamnih calls the ban an attempt to "starve us out," given that foraging is a major source of food for many Palestinians, and that picking and selling herbs is often the sole form of income for impoverished families. Meanwhile, Israeli farmers have domesticated and farmed za'tar on expropriated Palestinian land, selling it (both the herb and the spice mixture) back to Palestinians, and later marketing it abroad as an "Israeli" blend; they thus profit from the ban on wild harvesting of the herb. This farming model, as well as the double standard regarding harvesting, refer back to an idea that Arabs are a primitive people unfit to own the land, because they did not cultivate or develop it as the settlers did (i.e., did not attempt to recreate a European landscape or European models of agriculture); colonizing and settling the land are cast as justified, and even righteous.

The importance of the ban on foraging goes beyond the economic. Raya Ziada, founder of an acroecology nonprofit based in Ramallah, noted in 2019 that "taking away access to [wild herbs] doesn't just debilitate our economy and compromise what we eat. It's symbolic." Za'tar serves variously as a symbol of Palestinians' connection to the land and to nature; of Israeli colonial dispossession and theft; of the Palestinian home ("It’s a sign of a Palestinian home that has za’tar in it"); and of resistance to the colonial regime, as many Palestinians have continued to forage herbs such as za'tar and akkoub in the decades since the 1977 ban. Resistance to oppression will continue as long as there is oppression.

Palestine Action has called for bail fund donations to aid in their storming, occupying, shutting down, and dismantling of factories and offices owned by Israeli arms manufacturer Elbit Systems. Also contact your representatives in the USA, UK, and Canada.

Ingredients:

Za'tar (Origanum syriacum), 250g once dried (about 4 cups packed)

250g (1 2/3 cup) sesame seeds

170g (3/4 cup) Levantine sumac berries, or ground sumac (Rhus coriaria)

100g (1/2 cup) wheat berries (optional)

2 Tbsp olive oil

1 Tbsp aniseed (optional)

1/2 Tbsp caraway seeds (optional)

Levantine wild thyme (also known as Bible hyssop, Syrian oregano, and Lebanese oregano) may be purchased dried online. You may also be able to find some dried at a halal grocery store, where it will be labelled "زعتر" (za'tar) and "thym," "thyme," or "oregano." Check to make sure that what you're buying is just the herb and not the prepared mixture, which is also called "زعتر." Also ensure that what you're buying is not a product of Israel.

If you don't have access to Levantine thyme, Greek or Turkish oregano are good substitutes.

Wheat berries are the wheat kernel that is ground to produce flour. They may be available sold as "wheat berries" at a speciality health foods store. They may be omitted, or replaced with pre-ground whole wheat flour.

Instructions:

1. Harvest wild thyme and remove the stems from the leaves. Wash the leaves in a large bowl of water and pat dry; leave in a single layer in the sun for four days or so, until brittle. Skip this step if using pre-dried herbs.

2. Crumble leaves by rubbing them between the palms of your hands until they are very fine. Pass through a sieve or flour sifter into a large bowl, re-crumbling any leaves that are too coarse to get through.

Crumbling between the hands is an older method. You may also use a blender or food processor to grind the leaves.

3. Mix the sifted thyme with a drizzle of olive oil and work it between your hands until incorporated.

4. Briefly toast sumac berries, caraway seeds, and aniseed in a dry skillet over medium heat, then grind them to a fine powder in a mortar and pestle or a spice mill.

5. Toast sesame seeds in a dry skillet over medium heat, stirring constantly, until deeply golden brown.

6. (Optional) In a dry skillet on medium-low, toast wheat berries, stirring constantly, until they are deeply golden brown. Grind to a fine powder in a spice mill. If using ground flour, toast on low, stirring constantly, until browned.

Some people in the Levant bring their wheat to a local mill to be ground after toasting, as it produces a finer and more consistent texture.

7. Mix all ingredients together and work between your hands to incorporate.

Store za'tar in an airtight jar at room temperature. Mix with olive oil and use as a dipping sauce with bread.

[adib-photography]

The fishing boat #rawche #lebanon #beirut #raouche #photography #lebanese #livelovebeirut #livelovelebanon #sunset #photooftheday #nature #sea #hamra #tripoli #rock #achourdevelopment #family #home #batroun #apartment #proudlylebanese #insta #construction #realestate #jbeil #photographer #photo #blue #akkar #sour (at Port of Beirut) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cneb5KjqVtG/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[news4dzhozhar]

Yasmin Porat, a survivor of the bloodshed at Kibbutz Be’eri, near the boundary with Gaza, says many Israeli civilians were killed by Israeli forces.

An Israeli woman who survived the Hamas assault on settlements near the Gaza boundary on 7 October says Israeli civilians were “undoubtedly” killed by their own security forces.

It happened when Israeli forces engaged in fierce gun battles with Palestinian fighters in Kibbutz Be’eri and fired indiscriminately at both the fighters and their Israeli prisoners.

“They eliminated everyone, including the hostages,” she told Israeli radio. “There was very, very heavy crossfire” and even tank shelling.

The woman, 44-year-old mother of three Yasmin Porat, said that prior to that, she and other civilians had been held by the Palestinians for several hours and treated “humanely.” She had fled the nearby “Nova” rave.

A recording of her interview, from the radio program Haboker Hazeh (“This Morning”) hosted by Aryeh Golan on state broadcaster Kan, has been circulating on social media.

Notably, the interview is not included in the online version of Haboker Hazeh for 15 October, the episode in which it apparently aired.

It may well have been censored due to its explosive nature.

Porat, who is from Kabri, a settlement near the Lebanese border, undoubtedly experienced terrible things and saw many noncombatants killed. Her own partner, Tal Katz, is among the dead.

However, her account undermines Israel’s official story of deliberate, wanton murder by the Palestinian fighters.

Although it no longer appears on the Kan website, there can be little doubt about the recording’s authenticity.

At least one Hebrew-language account posted part of the interview on Twitter, now officially called X, and accused Kan of functioning as “media in the service of Hamas.”

Porat also gave her account to the Israeli newspaper Maariv.

However, the Maariv story, published on 9 October, makes no specific mention of civilians being killed by Israeli forces.

And in a half-hour interview with Israel’s Channel 12 on Thursday, Porat speaks of intense gunfire after Israeli forces arrived. Porat herself received a bullet in the thigh.

Not only does Porat tell Kan that Israelis were killed in the heavy counterattack by Israeli security forces, but she says she and other captive civilians were well treated by the Palestinian fighters.

Porat had been attending the “Nova” rave when the Hamas assault began with missiles and motorized paragliders. She and her partner Tal Katz escaped by car to nearby Kibbutz Be’eri where many of the events she describes in her media interviews took place.

According to Porat speaking to Maariv, she and Katz initially sought refuge in the house of a couple called Adi and Hadas Dagan. After the Palestinian fighters found them they were all taken to another house, where eight people were already being held captive and one person was dead.

Porat said that the wife of the dead man “told us that when they [the Hamas fighters] tried to enter, the guy tried to prevent them from entering and grabbed the door. They shot at the door and he was killed. They did not execute them.”

“They did not abuse us. They treated us very humanely,” Porat explained to a surprised Golan in the Kan radio interview.

“By that I mean they guard us,” she said. “They give us something to drink here and there. When they see we are nervous they calm us down. It was very frightening but no one treated us violently. Luckily nothing happened to me like what I heard in the media.”

“They were very humane towards us,” Porat said in her Channel 12 interview. She recalled that one Palestinian fighter who spoke Hebrew, “told me, ‘Look at me well, were not going to kill you. We want to take you to Gaza. We are not going to kill you. So be calm, you’re not going to die.’ Thats what he told me, in those words.”

“I was calm because I knew nothing would happen to me,” she added.

“They told us that we would not die, that they wanted to take us to Gaza and that the next day they would return us to the border,” Porat told Maariv.

In the Channel 12 interview, Porat elaborates that although the Palestinian fighters all had loaded weapons, she never saw them shoot captives or threaten them with their guns.

In addition to providing the captives with drinking water, she said the fighters let them go outside to the lawn because it was hot, especially as the electricity was cut.

[fullfriendnerdclutch]

Artie grinned mischievously as his friends profile started to appear one by one. The app linked to the saved contacts in his phone and somehow they managed to extract a fairly accurate profile of Artie's friends, resulting in a couple avatars that Artie can choose and tweak to his likings. The app, called Chronivac, not only changed Artie's physique to look like a 30+ years old hairy muscle hunk, it also molded the reality in accordance to the final prompt Artie typed in, turning the 20 years old college dropout into a bonafide hunk living life lavishly from workout courses and OF, and he's about to spice things up in the life of his dear friends.

He started from Randall.

He started very methodically as he put Randy as the new name. Then, when the profile options opened, he started his work. Get rid of the glasses. Get rid of that acne scar and blackspot. Retain the face but make the jaw angular. Styling the hair so it's no longer greasy and moppy. Face done, now the body

Randall is quite a perv and his biggest turn-on is big titties, but well, most untouched virgin are perv anyway so maybe he should make Randy turned on with himself by giving him this large pair of muscle tits? Lol, that's hilarious, he thought to himself. Humh.....so maybe keep Randy as a 255 lbs fuckers? Well, turn all the fat into muscle and click "Optimize" because he can't be bothered to perfect Randy's muscle distribution.....hot damn that's one massive unit! Finalize the whole change with the short prompt

"Randy is a gym junkie and absolute freak of nature. He's probably the biggest 20 years old in the entire Americas. He's one of my mentee and he looked up to me as his inspiration, he even will not hesitate to take my cock if I instruct him to do so to get bigger, quite the dumb oaf he is,"

Click Save and then Process. Several seconds later, a transformed Randy appeared in the room that Artie booked for this holiday. Randy appeared to be sleeping while he got altered earlier, Artie just realized it's night time in the States so no wonder Randy is asleep. He will check him out later as he still have several more profile to go

Andy. Oh, yeah, the profile arrangement is based on surnames. Coleman, Randall. Garcia, Andy. Andy is Artie's bestfriend from childhood so Artie knows very well what Andy really wanted to look like.

Keep the name and lineage. A little tweak in his testosterone to boost that facial hair growth and make that balls pumped full faster with mini Garcias. Andy admired his hotter, older brother, Juan, so badass and clearly a true symbolism of what Latin American community deemed as macho, so Randall ensured that whatever feature Juan possessed, Andy is going to make that even better. Thicker hair, more defined abs, bigger biceps, bigger triceps, rounder delts, voice that trembles anyone that hear it, obviously bigger uncut piece of meat, more tattoos, all lodged in as part of the new Andy's persona. The avatar is looking quite a looker already so Artie just added a bit of simple prompt, click the Save button and then Process the changes. Andy suddenly appeared in the day bed next to Artie, still sleeping soundly and Artie just smirked as he continued his work

He tweaked Ollie's profile right after, making the pale and lanky 6'5" Norwegian-Lebanese former ballet dancer to be closer to his Lebanese roots as he shrunk him to a 6'1" muscle daddy. Ollie, or Olaf, quickly turned into Ali, and just like Andy, appeared in the same resort where Artie stayed

Michael is supposedly next on the list, but James is already quite distracting for Artie so he decided to work on James first. He's really not that close to James and to be honest, if it's not because James is Andy's college roommate, Artie probably would have 0 interest to befriend him. He might be clouded with jealousy because Andy seemingly enjoyed James company, and even worse, a little crush on him, but well, with a reality-changing app in the palm of his hands, why should he accept things as it is when he can change it? So, rather than focusing on the physical aspect, Artie simply turned his focus to James mental part. He smirked devilishly as he turned the pretty-much straight James into a horny, lustful bottom. Artie practically emasculated James and he felt zero remorse whatsoever as he then added to the prompt that James tagged along to this trip as he's a clingy cum dump that Michael fucked once in the seedy bar that he and Andy frequented. Yup, that's the plot of his change to the innocent Michael.

Artie quickly tweaked Michael profile, the smallest and shiest one in the friend group is now the horny beast who needs to fuck a hole in daily basis. Artie based all of them in the same city, the same apartment building even and then created this whole backstory of their ascendancy to the top of OF and independent adult industry in Michael's prompt space. When he clicked Process, the sound of James moaning in delight echoed all the way to the swimming pool, Michael is basically fucking the shit out of James

The noise also managed to wake Andy's up. Despite seemingly confused at first, Andy quickly find his senses and instead of freaking out or reacted in surprise, he seems to be very much comfortable and at home. Artie sighed with relief, thrilled that his little handiwork resulted nicely.

It seems like that Andy is totally not aware that his life has been dramatically altered by his own best friend that just whipped out his cock from the swimming shorts he's wearing. With a grin while his right hand started pumping his meaty cock and the phone flipped and locked in the table, Artie said

"Care to help a friend here? We can drench Ali to wake the fucker's up when we are close,"

[varilien]

ive been wanting to do some redraws of the gravity falls art i made as a kid n since it's seasonally appropriate, here's some magician au doodles ^^

and just in case i don't come back to draw it again any time soon here's my thoughts so far on the topic and the original art circa smn like. idk maybe 2015 or 2016?? i wish i'd put the date on anything from back then lol

Palestine: Funds | Action | eSims | Info

Sudan Resources | Congo Resource | Lebanese Red Cross

i might change the designs later on but at this point i thought it'd be most fun to just kinda leave it really close to the originals :3

anyways!!

okay so gravity falls magician au. plotwise it's all actually about the same, the twins might be a little older actually, like 15 or 16 (maybe they've visited gravity falls in the past?), but whatever. they get sent to a sleepy little village in the woods to stay w their great uncle. magic runs in the pines family, although no currently living pines is thought to have any notable capability. healing a scratch or finding something u lost under ur bed, basically. magic is actually probably a lot more common and mundane in this world than canon, so gravity falls' weirdness as a region comes more from the intensity and unpredictable nature of the magic found there

anyways the BIGGEST plot difference is that i like the idea of the kids meeting bill pretty early on. he introduces himself as a seasoned familiar looking to get back in touch with his old partner. now, bill is a breath of fresh air for dipper in particular, who finally has someone he can speak frankly with about the weird experiences he's been having, but even tho bill loves nothing more than spilling secrets and arcane knowledge, he's not really able to do so as he'd like to. he's got TONS of spells placed on him for the express purpose of keeping him quiet, but there's a few things bill has been able to elude to if nothing else: 1, he knows who the author of the grimoire dipper found in the woods is. 2, he knows stan pines' great secret. and 3, he knows how to access magical power beyond comprehension

hehe idk i just like the idea of bill spending possibly months mentoring and making friends w the kids fully planning on just using them for his own gain the entire time but. well. maybe it's nice not being alone anymore too. tho he'd never admit it

[secular-jew]

From a real Lebanese (Phoenician).

‎I realize that when I speak my mind as a free human being, there will be responses. I can handle that.

‎However, people who are of the opposite conviction (mostly from the medieval Middle East) always respond with the same modus operandi... Every single time someone disagrees with them, they answer by calling us names like Donkey, Pig, or Dog (حمار، خنزير، كلب hmar, khanzeer, or kaleb) which they intend as big insults. They also call us either 'Zionists' or 'traitors' or 'agents'.

‎They simply have no logical answer, and they are so pathetically childish.

‎My feelings are not hurt. Far from it. But seeing so many here in the US chanting "I am Hamas" causes me to see the need to enlighten those who don't know the detailed history of the past 50 years.

‎Why do we oppose terrorist and don’t agree with their terrorism and savagery?

‎Here is the long history recap, told from my personal perspective.

‎I grew up in Lebanon with friends from all faiths: Druze, Muslim, and various Christians. We laughed and played and got along. Lebanon was generally peaceful and safe.

‎We welcomed the Palestinians as refugees to Lebanon.

‎The border between Lebanon and Israel was generally quiet compared with other Arab nations. Many Lebanese did not want war. Instead, we desired to live in peace and tranquility. We wanted prosperity, trade, tourism, and banking. The Lebanese used to be known as having joie de vie and some of the most fun people to be around.

‎Lebanon was referred to as “the Switzerland of the Middle East” for its beauty and its desire to remain peaceful and neutral and a bridge between the east and west.

‎Lebanon was also called “the Riviera of the Middle East”, "California on the Eastern Mediterranean", and “Green Lebanon” because trees covered the hills and mountains and there was no desert.

‎Beirut was known as "the Paris of the Middle East". Lebanon's Golden Age was a period characterized by its natural beauty, including snow-capped mountains, warm beaches, and a pristine coastline. Beirut was a glamorous city with luxury hotels, nightclubs, and a vibrant cultural and intellectual life. It was a popular destination for movie stars.

‎Tourists flocked to Lebanon. They went snow skiing in the morning then drove 2 hours to Beirut to water ski in the Mediterranean the afternoon of the same day. It was on everyone’s bucket list.

‎Tourists were safe and they had so much fun that they did not want to leave. Many came back year after year.

‎Over time, the Palestinians created a state-within-a-state and there were areas where they prevented even the Lebanese army from entering. Which country would accept that? Knowing the trouble it will eventually cause, the Lebanese started to become bitter about the situation.

‎Egyptian president Gamal Abdel Nasser wanted to make Lebanon part of the United Arab Republic, causing a civil war in 1958.

‎I was in Middle School when the six-day war erupted in June of 1967. School was nearing summer break. We went out for our lunch break and heard that war has started. I saw Israeli fighter jets dog fighting with Syrian jets overhead. the Syrian jets lost.

‎Because Lebanon is very small, we could catch AM radio stations from the surrounding countries. All the Arab stations repeated the same lie: "Our forces have destroyed the enemy's air force, and we have reached the outskirts of Jerusalem." All lies and propaganda from Radio Egypt, Radio Damascus, and Radio Amman. Same garbage from each station. Propaganda in the news continues to this day. If a radio station does not toe the line, the regime will shut it down.

‎To hear the truth, we turned to Radio Israel, Voice of America, and the BBC.

‎Three years later, the PLO started fighting against the King of Jordan. Their headquarters were in Amman, Jordan and even though they were refugees in Jordan, they tried to overthrow King Hussein. The king's forces surrounded them and almost killed every single fighter. The world called for a cease fire and forced King Hussein to relent. That was a major mistake. The same mistake is being repeated these days when the world asks Israel to stop firing. When the world does that, the problem never ends. It only becomes a bigger problem. The world had repeatedly made that mistake in the Middle East.

‎The PLO relocated to Beirut. They started firing at Israel from Lebanese territory, causing Israel to retaliate against Lebanese territory. Who would blame them for retaliating?

‎Again, we did not want war. We wanted peace.

‎Knowing that civil unrest was on the horizon, I went to America to study medicine hoping that by the time I completed my studies, the situation would have calmed down. Little did I know what the future held.

‎In 1975, the PLO caused the devastating civil war that engulfed Lebanon for 15 years. My parents were displaced and lost everything. So did many families. The toll was horrendous.

‎The town where I was born was located in the mountains outside Beirut, only about 30 minutes by car. My family could not go there because of the civil war and lost access to our house for over 10 years. Because it was a house owned by Christians, it was hit on more than one occasion while other homes nearby were OK. The roof had a hole in it from artillery shells. It was repaired, yet more shells hit it, sending the message not to return to town.

‎Our orchards used to have apple trees, peach trees, cherry trees, olive trees, sumac, artichoke, pine trees, mulberry trees, fig trees, and other trees. Not being tended to nor watered, they all died. Even the stones used for terracing our orchard were looted. Thus, our neatly terraced land became a worthless desolate wasteland.

‎My brother was kidnapped, other friends died. We had an apartment in Christian East Beirut. The area was besieged for a while and there were times when there was no bread. Artillery fired from Muslim west Beirut was so intense at times that even crossing the narrow street to the bomb shelter was incredibly dangerous. My mother developed heart disease and Parkinson's from the stress and fear.

‎My family were on the run from Beirut to the Metn district, then to the Bekaa, then to Cyprus, then back to various areas in Lebanon. The war had made them nomads.

‎There were so many other stories that my family endured, but I will omit them for brevity's sake.

‎The Syrian army entered Lebanon as ‘peacekeepers’ and destroyed Lebanon. For many years, the Syrian army occupied our house in the mountains and used it as their headquarters in the town. To remain warm and acting like uncivilized primitives, they lit fires inside the house on our ornate ceramic-tiled floor in the living room.

‎In the 1980's, Hezbollah came to existence and wanted Lebanon to be part of the Iranian Islamic caliphate.

‎Syria occupied Lebanon ruthlessly. Many Lebanese were taken to Syrian jails and tortured. Many never returned.

‎The war "ended", and all factions were disarmed except Hezbollah. Syria and the Shiites were in control and dictated that. Hezbollah kept getting stronger due to intense backing from Iran. For years, Lebanon remained an occupied country. Syria plundered Lebanon and became rich.

‎Syria and Iran, using Hezbollah and their own agents, began assassinating any leader who opposed them. They killed Christians and Sunnis alike. In 2005, Bashar Al Assad 'summoned' Prime Minister Rafik Hariri (a Sunni Muslim) to Damascus and 'ordered' him to do something, threatening that if he did not toe the line, Assad would 'break his head'. Hariri did not toe the line and was assassinated in February 2005. Hezbollah were the ones who committed the act.

‎The cowardly Iranian regime had established Hezbollah as a proxy to fight Israel. In essence, cowardly Iran used Lebanon to fight Israel, causing the destruction of Lebanon while Iranian territory remained safe.

‎So back to my first thought. The opposition cannot handle the truth. The only thing they can do is call us names.

‎I have thick skin. We have gone through a lot of trials and tribulations and adversity wreaked upon us by these savage terroristic animals.

‎Thank you, Israel, for Nasrallah's demise. It may create an opportunity for peace, but only if Lebanese leaders have the courage to seize the moment.

‎I will repeat what the terrorists and their supporters don’t want to hear: The Iranian Regime, The Syrian Regime, all proxies of Iran, Hezbollah, Hamas, Houthis, ISIS, Al Qaeda, The PLO, Islamic Jihad, PJ, PFLP, Syrian Baathist Party, all the Communist parties, all of these and more have been CANCERS in the World. They oppress their own people and us alike. They are savage animals who are stuck in the seventh century with the mentality of brutal conquests and war.

‎Call me what you like. I was born a Phoenician, not an Arab. The terrorists took away my county, but God gave me America. I am grateful and I am blessed.

‎I'm going to have an awesome day, and the terrorists are going to get their rears kicked. Have a good night.

[thefty-o]

Arab uncle drains his nephew

Samir yawned and stretched as he got out of bed, his dusky olive skin contrasting against the crisp white of his cotton thobe. At 45, the Lebanese father of three was starting to feel his age. He caught a glimpse of himself in the ornate gilt-framed mirror and sighed. While he'd never been a large man, his formerly lean physique was starting to soften, his stomach rounding out above his sirwal and his arms losing their wiry tone.

"Yallah, I need to start exercising again," he muttered to himself, stroking his neatly trimmed beard.

As he headed to the bathroom, he nearly collided with a wall of tawny muscle. His nephew Tariq, who was staying with them for the summer, loomed in the doorway, his skin gleaming with a sheen of sweat from his morning prayers and calisthenics. The 20-year-old was an absolute Adonis, his tall, powerful frame packed with perfectly sculpted brawn, straining the seams of his sleeveless white thobe. His traditional red and white shemagh was slightly askew, untamed black curls peeking out, framing his striking aquiline features and smoldering dark eyes.

"Sabah al-khair, 'Ammu Samir," Tariq rumbled in his deep, resonant baritone, his voice rich with the musical cadence of Levantine Arabic. "You look like you could use some cardamom coffee to put some pep in your step, old man. I know your constitution isn't what it used to be."

Samir flushed, biting back a retort. "Shukran, but I think I can manage," he said stiffly. It was just good-natured ribbing, he told himself, even as he felt a pang of envy at Tariq's effortless virility. What he wouldn't give for a taste of that youthful power and vigor.

As he brushed past Tariq into the bathroom, their bare arms touched. Instantly, Samir felt a jolt of electricity crackle through him. He gasped, bracing himself against the marble sink as a wave of dizziness washed over him. In the mirror, he swore his reflection was... changing?

Before his eyes, the soft flab melted off his frame. His midsection tightened, hints of abs peeking through the gap in his thobe. His arms and legs regained the lean, wiry musculature of his youth, his biceps filling out the sleeves of his undershirt. His slouched shoulders straightened and broadened, his posture improving to project a newfound confidence. He looked robust, vital, like a man ten years younger.

Tariq suddenly shuddered in the mirror behind him and Samir startled. Was his nephew slouching? Samir could have sworn that he used to be eye level with the boy's plump pecs, but now he was staring right into their center.

"Mashallah, 'Ammu, looking good," Tariq said, clapping a massive paw on Samir's newly sturdy shoulder. "A few months training with me and inshallah, you'll be almost as big and strong as your nephew, eh?"

He threw Samir a wink and sauntered out, his sandaled feet nearly cracking the marble tile with each heavy step. Samir shook his head wryly. Tariq had always been a big boy - clearly took after his father's side. Perhaps with this newfound energy, he would take the young man up on his offer to get back in shape.

...

A few days later, Samir found himself in the makeshift gym in the garage, spotting Tariq as he benched a truly prodigious amount of weight, grunting Arabic encouragements. Tariq's performance was flagging slightly, his reps slower and more labored than last week. He was still monstrously strong, but perhaps not the utterly untouchable mountain of power he'd been before.

As they racked the weights and sat up, Tariq's sweaty arm brushed Samir's... and again, that electric jolt, that head rush. Samir watched in awe as his own arms seemed to swell before his eyes, his biceps and triceps growing, pulsing with vascular striations. His shoulders broadened, stretching his sweat-soaked sleeveless tee. Pectoral muscles barreled out above his tight six-pack, two brawny slabs of beef heaving with new mass.

It was as if he'd gained 20 lbs of muscle on the spot. He looked like he lifted seriously now, his frame dense with carved, powerful sinew and brawn. Tariq, on the other hand, while still unquestionably huge and imposing, seemed slightly... diminished. A little shorter, a tad less impossibly broad and thick. He looked more like the biggest, buffest guy at the mosque now rather than an avatar of masculine perfection.

"Wallahi, 'Ammu!" Tariq exclaimed, a note of surprise and something almost like unease creeping into his usually unflappably cocky tone. "What's your secret? I swear you get bigger by the day!"

Samir just smirked and flexed a bulging bicep, feeling a thrill as he watched his nephew's gaze widen with shock and awe at the size and definition. "Maybe you've been slacking on the halal meat, son," he teased. "Need to get more protein to maintain those gains."

Tariq just laughed, but there was a strained quality to it, his dark eyes flickering with an unsettled light. "We'll see, old man. Race you to the shisha lounge?"

He took off, and if his stride was a bit less than its usual loping, ground-devouring, leg-powered swagger, Samir didn't comment. He followed at an easier pace, enjoying the unfamiliar heft and solidity of his new, enhanced muscles. Something had shifted between them, and they could both feel it.

...

A week later, Samir woke up feeling like a new man. No, like a king, a titan, a conqueror of old. He practically bounded out of bed, 250 lbs of densely packed, heavily striated Arab muscle quivering and flexing with coiled power. He felt invincible, brimming with vitality, virility, and masculine energy straining to be unleashed.

He caught sight of himself in the mirror and had to stifle a shout of triumphant joy. He was magnificent, his tall, heroically proportioned body an anatomy chart of musculature, all broad planes and deep cuts and hulking, vein-streaked brawn. His thobe had ridden up as he slept, exposing a mastodon cock throbbing half-mast against his deeply corrugated abs, a thick, wrist-thick pillar of pride and potency. His heavy balls churned visibly in their overstuffed sack, swollen with seed and the sacred essence of a true alpha.

"Allahu akbar," Samir breathed reverently. He was a living incarnation of the male ideal now, a pinnacle of strength and virility that surpassed any man he had ever known - including, he realized with a dark thrill, his nephew Tariq. He could feel it in his gigantic, steel-cable muscles, his raging monsoon of testosterone-fueled might - he was the dominant one now, the apex predator. Tariq had nothing on him anymore.

As if on cue, there was a tentative knock on the door. "'Ammu Samir?" came Tariq's voice, reedy and thin in contrast to the booming bass Samir remembered. "I, uh, I think there may have been a mixup with our clothes at the laundry. I seem to have shrunk out of a lot of mine somehow..."

"Faddal," Samir called, his voice a low, authoritative rumble that vibrated through his cavernous chest. Enter.

The boy who slunk through the door was barely recognizable as the swaggering erotic demigod of a few weeks ago. Oh, he was still handsome enough in a coltish, pretty boy way, with an athletic swimmer's build, but next to Samir's towering, mega-muscled hypermasculinity he looked downright scrawny. His eyes widened to saucers and his full lips parted in an audible gasp as he took in his uncle's massive, naked body, his gaze immediately drawn to the throbbing log of manflesh sitting heavily atop Samir's deeply ribbed washboard midsection.

"M-Maa shaa' Allah, 'Ammu," Tariq stammered, face flushed, a visible tenting rising in his loose sirwal. "You... what... I mean... Subhan Allah, you're enormous..."

"Alhamdulillah," Samir purred, flexing his planetoid biceps with a low growl of power, his pecs and lats flaring out even wider, his cock jumping and pulsing against his abs. "What's wrong, little one? Never seen a real man before? Intimidated to be in the presence of your true alpha uncle?"

Tariq made a small, choked noise, his eyes glazing over with lust and worship, his lithe body trembling. The boy was clearly in thrall to Samir's extreme muscularity, the raw sexual power and masculinity rolling off him in waves. He looked ready to fall to his knees and service his supreme elder on the spot.

"Don't worry, nephew. You'll have plenty of time to get acquainted with your new place," Samir rumbled, voice thick with sadistic amusement, reaching out to roughly palm Tariq's pretty face with one huge, calloused mitt. "Wallahi, I'm going to enjoy breaking you in. By the time I'm done with this little zakar of yours, you'll be my perfect little eromenos. The only thing that overactive aql of yours will be able to think about is worshipping your 'Ammu's ripped, massive body."

Slowly, almost tenderly, he pushed his thumb into Tariq's slack mouth, making the boy gag and sputter as he forced it in up to the knuckle.

"Shh, shh, just submitted," Samir crooned darkly as Tariq's eyes bulged and watered, weakly trying to pull away. "Salim and accept your place, little one. You're going to become very familiar with parts of 'Ammu much bigger than this."

And with his other hand, he reached down and grabbed the root of his titanically engorged manhood, slowly, almost lovingly smacking his nephew's spit-slick cheek with the girthy, vein-ravaged shaft.

"Mmm, such a pretty little face," he groaned, his voice a low Arabic growl. "Going to look even better stretched around my horse cock. Open up, 'azizi. Your new life as 'Ammu's sharmuta starts now."

And with that, he pulled his thumb out only to replace it with the blunt, leaking head of his inhumanly huge erection, groaning in pure alpha male bliss as he watched his nephew's throat visibly distend and bulge obscenely around his girth.

Oh yes, this was going to be very good indeed, Samir thought as he prepared to orally break in his new fuck toy. And it was only the beginning of Tariq's training to be the perfect submissive receptacle for his dominant alpha seed...