#like eastern europe or the american south

[bimdraws]

I am queer for Palestine because bombing Gaza also kills LGBT+ Palestinians. The bombs and the IDF won't stop and ask you if you are gay.

I'm queer for Palestine because my support of human rights isn't just for people who agree with me. I don't want homophobes to die.

I'm queer for Palestine because homophobia is everywhere and flat out genocide would never solve that. Are you seriously arguing that it's morally justified to bomb every "homophobic country" on Earth? Because we wouldn't be left with much.

I'm queer for Palestine because I've been listening to queer voices in Palestine.

I'm queer for Palestine because there will never be freedom for queer Palestinians without liberation for all Palestinians.

I'm queer for Palestine because I refuse to engage in racist portrayals of another ethnic group by colonizers.

I'm queer for Palestine because there's no safe zone in Gaza anymore and I can't be comfortable with that as thousands of people, men, women, children, have died and will continue to do so under Israeli regime.

[andromerot]

thing about tumblr is one day someone will leave a tag on your post and it will haunt you forever

[nomairuins]

the world if sims 4 had more lots per world

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

1968 [Chapter 6: Athena, Goddess Of Wisdom]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 5.2k

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Here at the midway point in our journey—like Dante stumbling upon the gates of the Inferno—would it be the right moment to review what’s at stake? Let’s begin.

It’s the end of August. The delegates of the Democratic National Convention in Chicago officially vote to name Aemond the party’s presidential candidate. His ascension is aided by 10,000 antiwar demonstrators who flood into the city and threaten to set it ablaze if Hubert Humphrey is chosen instead. At the end—in his death rattle—Humphrey begs to be Aemond’s running mate, one last humiliation he cannot resist. Humphrey is denied. Eugene McCarthy, dignity intact, boards a commercial flight to his home state of Minnesota without looking back.

Aemond selects U.S. Ambassador to France, Sargent Shriver, to be his vice president. Shriver is a Kennedy by marriage—his wife, JFK’s younger sister Eunice, just founded the Special Olympics—and has previously headed the Office of Economic Opportunity, the Peace Corps, and the Chicago Board of Education. He also served as the architect of the president’s “War on Poverty” before distancing himself from the imploding Johnson administration. Shriver is not a concession to fence-sitting moderates or Southern Dixiecrats, but an embodiment of Aemond’s commitment to unapologetic progressivism. Richard Nixon spends the weekend campaigning in his native California, a gold vein of votes like the mines settlers rushed to in 1848. George Wallace announces that he will run as an Independent. Racists everywhere rejoice.

Phase III of the Tet Offensive is underway in Vietnam; 700 American soldiers have been killed this month alone. Riots break out in military prisons where the U.S. Army is keeping their deserters. The North Vietnamese refuse to allow Pope Paul VI to visit Hanoi on a peace mission. President Johnson calls both Aemond and Nixon to personally inform them of this latest evidence of the communists’ unwillingness to negotiate in good faith. Daeron and John McCain remain in Hỏa Lò Prison. The draft swallows men like the titan Cronus devoured his own children.

In Eastern Europe, the Russians are crushing pro-democracy protests in the largest military operation since World War II as half a million troops roll into Czechoslovakia. In Caswell County, North Carolina, the last remaining segregated school district in the nation is ordered by a federal judge to integrate after years of stalling. On the Fangataufa Atoll in the South Pacific, France becomes the fifth nation to successfully explode a hydrogen bomb. In Mexico City, 300,000 students gather to protest the authoritarian regime of President Diaz Ordaz. In Guatemala, American ambassador John Gordon Mein is murdered by a Marxist guerilla organization called the Rebel Armed Forces. In Columbus, Ohio, nine guards are held hostage during a prison riot; after 30 hours, they’re rescued by a SWAT team.

The latest issue of Life magazine brings worldwide attention to catastrophic industrial pollution in the Great Lakes. The first successful multiorgan transplant is carried out at Houston Methodist Hospital. The Beatles release Hey Jude, the best-selling single of 1968 in the U.S., U.K., Australia, and Canada. NASA’s Apollo lunar landing program plans to launch a crewed shuttle next year, just in time to fulfill John F. Kennedy’s 1962 promise to put a man on the moon “before the end of the decade.” If this is successful, the United States will win the Space Race and prove the superiority of capitalism. If it fails, the martyred astronauts will join all the other ghosts of this apocalyptic age, an epoch born under bad stars.

The night sky glows with the ancient debris of the Aurigid meteor shower. From down here on Earth, Jupiter is a radiant white gleam, visible with the naked eye and admired since humans were making cave paintings and Stonehenge. But Io is a mystery. With a telescope, she becomes a dust mote entrapped by Jupiter’s gravity; to the casual observer, she doesn’t exist at all.

~~~~~~~~~~

What was it like, that very first time? It’s strange to remember. You’re both different people now.

It’s May, 1966. You and Aemond are engaged, due to be married in three short weeks, and if you get pregnant then it’s no harm, no foul. In reality, it will end up taking you over a year to conceive, but no one knows that yet; you are living in the liminal space between what you imagine your life will be and the cold blade of the truth. Aemond has brought you to Asteria for the weekend, an increasingly common occurrence. The Targaryens—minus one, that holdout prodigal son, always glowering from behind swigs of rum and clouds of smoke—have already begun to treat you like a member of the family. The flock of Alopekis yap excitedly and lick your shins. Eudoxia learns your favorite snacks so she can have them ready when you arrive.

One night Aemond takes your hand and leads you to Helaena’s garden, darkness turned to twilight in the artificial luminance of the main house. You can hear distant voices, chatter and laughter, and the Beatles’ Rubber Soul spinning on the record player in the living room like a black hole, gravity that not even light can escape when it is wrenched over the event horizon.

You’re giggling as Aemond pulls you along, faster and faster, weaving through pathways lined with roses and sunflowers and butterfly bushes. Your high heels sink into soft, fertile earth; the air in your lungs is cool and infinite. “Where are we going?”

And Aemond grins back at you as he replies: “To Olympus.”

In the circle of hedges guarded by thirteen gods of stone, Aemond unzips your modest pink sundress and slips your heels off your feet, kneeling like he’s proposing to you again. When you are bare and secretless, he draws you down onto the grass and opens you, claims you, fills you to the brim as the crystalline water of the fountain patters and Zeus hurls his lightning bolts, an eternal storm, unending war. It’s intense in a way it never was with your first boyfriend, a sweet polite boy who talked about feminist theory and followed his enlightened conscience all the way to Vietnam. This isn’t just a pleasant way to pass a Friday night, something to look forward to between differential equations textbooks and calculus proofs. With Aemond it’s a ritual; it’s something so overpowering it almost scares you.

“Aphrodite,” Aemond murmurs against your throat, and when you try to get on top he stops you, pins you to the ground, thrusts hard and deep, and you try not to moan too loudly as you surrender, his weight on you like a prophesy. This is how he wants you. This is where you belong.

Has someone ever stitched you to their side, pushing the needle through your skin again and again as the fabric latticework takes shape, until their blood spills into your veins and your antibodies can no longer tell the difference? He makes you think you’ve forgotten who you were before. He makes you want to believe in things the world taught you were myths.

But that was over two years ago. Now Aemond is not your spellbinding almost-stranger of a fiancé—shrouded in just the right amount of mystery—but your husband, the father of your dead child, the presidential candidate. You miss when he was a mirage. You miss what it felt like to get high on the idea of him, each taste a hit, each touch a rush of toxins to the bloodstream.

Seven weeks after your emergency c-section, you are healing. Your belly no longer aches, your bleeding stops, you can rejoin the living in this last gasp of summer. Ludwika takes you shopping and you pick out new swimsuits; you’ve gone up a size since the baby, and it shows no signs of vanishing. In the fitting room, Ludwika chain-smokes Camel cigarettes and claps when you show her each outfit, ordering you to spin around, telling you that there’s nothing like Oleg Cassini back in Poland. You plan to buy three swimsuits. Ludwika insists you get five. She pays with Otto’s American Express.

That afternoon at home in your blue bedroom, you get changed to join the rest of the family down by the pool, your first swim since Ari was born. You choose Ludwika’s favorite: a dreamy turquoise two-piece with flowing transparent fabric that drapes your midsection. You can still see the dark vertical line of where the doctors stitched you closed. Now you and Aemond match; he got his scar on the floor of the Breakers Hotel in Palm Beach, you earned yours at Mount Sinai Hospital in Manhattan. There are gold chains on your wrist and looped around your neck. Warm sunlight and ocean wind pours in through the open windows.

Aemond appears in the doorway and you turn to show him, proud of how you’ve pulled yourself together, how this past year hasn’t put you in an asylum. His right eye catches on your scar and stays there for a long time. Then at last he says: “You don’t have something else to wear?”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Labor Day, and Asteria has been descended upon by guests invited to celebrate Aemond’s nomination. The dining room table is overflowing with champagne, Agiorgitiko wine, platters of mini spanakopitas, lamb gyros, pita bread with hummus and tzatziki, feta cheese and cured meats, grilled octopus, baklava, and kourabiethes. Eudoxia is rushing around sweeping up crumbs and shooing tipsy visitors away from antique vases shipped here from Greece. Aemond’s celebrity endorsers include Sammy Davis Jr., Sonny and Cher, Andy Williams, Bobby Darin, Warren Beatty, Shirley MacLaine, Claudine Longet, and a number of politicians; but the most notable attendee is President Lyndon Baines Johnson, shadowed by Secret Service agents. He won’t be making any surprise appearances on the campaign trail for Aemond—in the present political climate, he would be more of a liability than an asset—but he has travelled to Long Beach Island tonight to offer his well-wishes. From the record player thrums Jimi Hendrix’s All Along The Watchtower.

When you finish getting ready and arrive downstairs, you spot Aegon: slouching in a velvet chair over a century old, hair shagging in his eyes, sipping something out of a chipped mug he clasps with both hands, flirting with a bubbly early-twenties campaign staffer. Aegon smiles and waves when he sees you. You wave back. And you think: When did he become the person I look for when I walk into a room?

Now Aemond is beside you in a blue suit—beaming, confident, his glass eye in place, a hand resting on your waist—and Aegon isn’t smiling anymore. He takes a gulp of what is almost certainly straight rum from his mug and returns his attention to the campaign staffer, his lady of the hour. You picture him undressing her on his shag carpet and feel disorienting, violent envy like a bullet.

Viserys is already fast asleep upstairs, but the rest of the family is out en masse to charm the invitees and pose for photographs. Alicent, Helaena, and Mimi—trying very hard to act sober, blinking too often—are chit-chatting with the other political wives. Otto is complaining about something to Criston; Criston is pretending to listen as he stares at Alicent. Ludwika is smoking her Camels and talking to several young journalists who are ogling her, enraptured. Fosco and Sargent Shriver are entertaining a group of guests with a boisterous, lighthearted debate on the merits of Italian versus French cuisine, though they agree that both are superior to Greek. The nannies have brought the eight children to be paraded around before bedtime. All Cosmo wants to do is clutch your hand and “help” you navigate around the living room, warning you not to step on the small, weaving Alopekis. When Mimi attempts to steal her youngest son away, he ignores her, and as she begins to make a scene you rebuke her with a harsh glare. Mimi retreats meekly. She has never argued with you, not once in over two years. You speak for Aemond, and Aemond is a god.

As the children are herded off to their beds by the nannies, Bobby Kennedy—presently serving as a New York senator despite residing primarily on his family’s compound in Massachusetts—approaches to congratulate Aemond. His wife Ethel is a tiny, nasally, scrappy but not terribly bright woman, five months pregnant with her eleventh child, and you have to get away from her like a hand pulled from a hot stove.

“You know, I was considering running,” Bobby says to Aemond, chuckling, good-natured. “But when I saw you get in the race, I thought better of it! Maybe I’ll give it a go in ’76, huh?”

“Hey, kid, what a tough year you’ve had,” Ethel tells you, patting your forearm. You can’t tear your eyes from her small belly. She has ten living children already. I couldn’t keep one. What kind of sense does that make? “We’re real sorry for your trouble, aren’t we, Bobby?”

Now he is nodding somberly. “We are. We sure are. We’ve been praying for you both.”

Aemond is thanking them, sounding touched but entirely collected. You manage some hurried response and then excuse yourself. Your hands are shaking as you cross the room, not really seeing it. You walk right into Lady Bird Johnson. She takes pity on you; she seems to perceive how rattled you are. “Oh Lyndon, look, it’s just who we were hoping to speak to! The next first lady of the United States. And how beautiful you are, just radiant. How do you keep your hair so perfect? That glamorous updo. You never have a single strand out of place.” Lady Bird lays a palm tenderly on your bare shoulder. She has an unusual, angular face, but a wise sort of compassion that only comes from suffering. Her husband is an unrepentant serial cheater. “I’ll make you a list of everything you need to know about the White House. All the quirks of the property, and the hidden gems too!”

“You’re so kind. We’ll see what happens in November…”

“Good evening, ma’am,” President Johnson says, smiling warmly. He’s an ugly man, but there’s something hypnotic that lives inside him and shines through his eyes like the blaze of a lighthouse. He pulls you in through the dark, through the storm; he promises you answers to questions you haven’t thought of yet. LBJ is 6’4 and known for bullying his political adversaries with the so-called “Johnson Treatment”; he leans in and makes rapid-fire demands until they forget he’s not allowed to hit them. “I have to tell you frankly, I don’t envy anyone who inherits that den of rattlesnakes in Washington D.C.”

“Lyndon, don’t frighten her,” Lady Bird scolds fondly.

“Everyone thinks they know what to do about Vietnam,” LBJ plods onwards. “But it’s a damned if you do, damned if you don’t clusterfuck. If you keep fighting, they call you a murderer. But if you pull the troops out and South Vietnam falls to the communists, every single man lost was for nothing, and you think the families will stand for that? Their kid in a body bag, or his legs blown off, or his brain scrambled? There’s no easy answer. It’s a goddamn bitch of a quagmire.”

Lady Bird offers you a sympathetic smirk. Sorry about all this unpleasantness, she means. When he gets himself worked up, I can’t stop him. But you find yourself feeling sorry for President Johnson. It will be difficult for him to learn how to fade into disgraced obscurity after once being so omnipotent, so beloved. Reinvention hurts like hell: fevers raging, bones mending, healing flesh that itches so ferociously you want to claw it off.

LBJ gives Lady Bird a look, quick but meaningful. She acquiesces. This has happened a thousand times before. “It was so nice talking to you, dear,” she tells you, then crosses the living room to pay her respects to Alicent.

The president steps closer, looming, towering. The Johnson Treatment?? you think, but no; he isn’t trying to intimidate you. He’s just curious.

“Do you know what Aemond’s plan is for ‘Nam?” LBJ asks, eyes urgent, voice low. “I’m sure he has one. He’s sworn to end the draft as soon as he gets into office, but how is he going to make sure the South Vietnamese can fend off the North themselves? We’re trying to train the bastards, but if we left they’d fold in months. It would be the first war the U.S. ever lost. Does he understand that?”

“He doesn’t really discuss it with me.” That’s true; you know his policies, but only because they are a constant subject of conversation within the family, something you all breathe like oxygen.

“We can’t let Nixon win,” LBJ continues. “It’s mass suicide to leave the country in his hands. The man can’t hold his liquor anymore, getting robbed by Kennedy in ’60 broke something in him. He gets sloshed and shoves his aids around, makes up conspiracies in his head. He’s a paranoid little prick. He’ll surveille the American people. He’ll launch a nuke at Moscow.”

You honestly don’t know what he expects you to say. “I’ll pass the message along to Aemond.”

“People love you, Mrs. Targaryen.” LBJ watching you closely. “Believe it or not, they used to love me too. But I still remember how to play the game. You’re the only reason Aemond is leading the polls in Florida. You can get him other states too. Jack needed Jackie. Aemond needs you. And you’ve had tragedies, and that’s a damn shame. But don’t you miss an opportunity. You take every disappointment, every fucked up cruelty of life and find a way to make it work for you. You pin it to your chest like a goddamn medal. Every single scar makes you look more mortal to those people going to the ballot box in November. You want them to be able to see themselves in you. It helps the mansions and the millions go down smoother.”

“President Johnson!” Aegon says as he saunters over, huge mocking grin. He thumps a closed fist against the Texan’s broad chest; the Secret Service agents standing ten feet away observe this sternly. “How thoughtful of you to be here, taking time out of your busy schedule, squeezing us in between war crimes.”

“The mayor of Trenton,” LBJ jabs.

“The butcher of Saigon.”

Now the president is no longer amused. “You’ve never accomplished anything in your whole damn life, son. Your obituary will be the size of a postage stamp. I’m looking forward to reading it someday soon.” He leaves, rejoining Lady Bird at the opposite end of the room.

You frown at Aegon, disapproving. You’re dressed in a sparkling, royal blue gown that Aemond chose. “That was unnecessary.”

Aegon is wearing an ill-fitting green shirt—half the buttons undone—khaki pants, and tan moccasins. “I just did you a favor.”

“What happened to your new girlfriend? Shouldn’t she be getting railed in your basement right now? Did she have a prior commitment? Did she have a spelling test to study for? Those can be tricky, such complex words. Juvenile. Inappropriate. Infidelity.”

“You know what he brags about?” Aegon says, meaning LBJ. “That he’s fucked more women by accident than John F. Kennedy ever did on purpose.”

“That sounds…logistically challenging.”

“He’s a lech. He’s a freak. He tells everyone on Capitol Hill how big his cock is. He takes it out and swings it around during meetings.”

“And that’s all far less than admirable, but he’s not going to do something like that around me.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s not an idiot,” you say impatiently. “He was perfectly civil. And I was getting interesting advice.”

Aegon rolls his eyes, exasperated. “Yeah, okay, I’m sorry I crashed your cute little pep talk with Lyndon Johnson, the most hated man on the planet.”

“I guess you can’t stop Aemond from touching me, so you have to terrorize LBJ instead.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Aegon hisses, and his venom stuns you. And now you’re both trapped: you loosed the arrow, he proved you hit the mark. He’s flushing a deep, mortified red. Your guts are twisting with remorse.

“Aegon, wait, I didn’t mean—”

He whirls and storms off, shoving his way through the crowd. People glare at him as they clutch their glasses and plates, sighing in that What else do you expect from the worthless son? sort of way. You’re still gaping blankly at the place where Aegon stood when Aemond finds you, snakes a hand around the back of your neck, and whispers through the painstakingly-arranged wisps of hair that fall around your ear: “Follow me.”

It’s not a question. It’s a command. You trail him through the living room, into the foyer, and through the front door, not knowing what he wants. Outside the moon is a sliver; the light from the main house makes the stars hard to see. “Aemond, you’ll never believe the conversation I just had with LBJ. He really unloaded, I think the stress is driving him insane. I have to tell you what he said about—”

“Later.” And this is jarring; Aemond doesn’t put anything before strategy. He grabs your hand as he turns into Helaena’s garden, and only then do you understand what he wants. Instinctively, your legs lock up and your feet stop moving. Aemond tugs you onward. He wants it to be like the very first time. He intends to start over with you, the dawning of a new age in the dead of night.

Hidden in the circle of hedges, he takes your face roughly in his hands and kisses you, drinks you down like a vampire, consumes you like wildfire. But your skull echoes with panic. I don’t want him touching me. I don’t want another child with him. “Aemond…”

He doesn’t hear you, or acts like he doesn’t, or mistakes it for a murmur of desire, or chooses to believe it is. He has you down on the grass under the vengeful gaze of Zeus, the fountain splashing, the sounds of the house a low foreign drone. He yanks off your panties, but he doesn’t want you naked like he always did before. He pushes the hem of your shimmering cobalt gown up to your hips and unbuckles his trousers. And you realize as he’s touching you, as he’s easing himself into you: He doesn’t want to have to look at my scar.

You can’t ignore him, you can’t pretend it’s not happening. He’s too big for that. It’s a biting fullness that demands to be felt. So you kiss him back, and knot your fingers in his short hair like you used to, and try to remember the things you always said to him before. And when Aemond is too absorbed to notice, you look away from him, from the statue of Zeus, and peer up into the stone face of Athena instead: the goddess who never married and who knows the answer to every question.

“I love you,” Aemond says when it’s over, marveling at the slopes of your face in the dim ethereal light. “Everything will be right again soon. Everything will be perfect.”

You conjure up a smile and nod like you believe him.

“What did LBJ say?”

“Can I tell you later tonight? After the party, maybe? I just need a few minutes.”

“Of course.” And now Aemond pretends to be patient. He buckles his belt and returns to the main house, his blood coursing with the possibilities only you can make real, his skin damp with your sweat.

For a while—ten minutes, twenty minutes—you lie there on the cool grass wondering what it was like for all those mortals and nymphs, being pinned down by Zeus and then having Hera try to kill them afterwards, raising ill-fated reviled bastards they couldn’t help but love. What is heaven if the realm of the immortals is so cruel? Why does the god of justice seem so immune to it?

When at last you rise and walk back towards the house, you find Mimi at the edge of the garden. She’s on her knees and retching into a rose bush; she’s cut her face on the thorns, but she hasn’t noticed yet. She’s groaning; she seems lost.

You reach for her, gripping her bony shoulders. “Mimi, here, let’s get you upstairs…”

“No,” she blubbers, tears streaming down her scratched cheeks. “Just go away. Leave me.”

“Mimi—”

“No!” she roars, a mournful hemorrhage as she slaps your hands until you release her.

“You don’t have to be this way,” you tell her, distraught. “You can give up drinking. We’ll help you, me and Fosco and Ludwika. You can start over. You can be healthy and present again, you can live a real life.”

Mimi stares up at you, her grey eyes glassy and bloodshot but with a vicious, piercing honesty. “My husband hates me. My kids don’t know I exist. What the hell do I have to be sober for?”

You weren’t expecting this. You don’t know what to say. “We can help make the world better.”

“The world would be better without me in it.”

Then Mimi curls up on the grass under the rose bush, and stays there until you return with Fosco to drag her upstairs to her empty bed.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next afternoon, you’re lying on a lounge chair by the pool. Tomorrow the family will leave Asteria and embark upon a vigorous campaign schedule that will continue, with very few breaks, until Election Day on Tuesday, November 5th. The children are splashing and shrieking in the pool with Fosco, but you aren’t looking at them. You’re staring across the sun-drenched emerald lawn at the Atlantic Ocean. You’re envisioning all the bones and splinters of sunken ships that must litter the silt of the abyss; you’re thinking that it’s a graveyard with no headstones, no memory. Your swimsuit is a red one-piece. Your eyes are shielded by large black Ray Bans aviator sunglasses. Your gaze flicks up to the cloudless blue sky, where all the stars and planets are invisible.

Jupiter has nearly a hundred moons; the largest four were discovered by Galileo in 1610. Europa is a smooth white cosmic marble with a crust of ice, beautiful, immaculate. Ganymede, the largest moon in our solar system and the only satellite with its own magnetic field, is rumored to have a vast underground saltwater ocean that may contain life. Callisto is dark and indomitable, riddled with impact craters; because of her dynamic atmosphere and location beyond Jupiter’s radiation belts, she is considered the best location for possible future crewed missions to the Jovian system. But Io is a wasteland. She has no water and no oxygen. Her only children are 400 active volcanoes, sulfur plumes and lava flows, mountains of silicate rock higher than Mount Everest, cataclysmic earthquakes as her crust slips around on a mantle of magma. Her daily radiation levels are 36 times the lethal limit for humans. If Hades had a home in our corner of the galaxy, it would be Io. She glows ruby and gold with barren apocalyptic fury. You can feel yourself turning poisonous like she is. You can feel your skin splitting open as the lava spills out.

Aegon trots out of the house—red swim trunks, cheap red plastic sunglasses, no shirt, a beach towel slung around his neck, flip flops—and kicks your chair. “Get up. We’re going sailing.”

“I don’t want to talk to anybody.”

“Great, because I’m not asking you to talk. I’m telling you to get in my boat.”

You don’t reply. You don’t think you can without your voice cracking. Aegon crouches down beside your chair and pushes your sunglasses up into your Brigitte Bardot-inspired hair so he can see your face. Your eyes are pink, wet, desperately sad. Deep troubled grooves appear in his forehead as he studies you. Gently, wordlessly, he pats your cheek twice and lowers your sunglasses back over your eyes. Then he stands up again and offers you his hand.

“Let’s go,” Aegon says, softly this time. You take his hand and follow him down to the boathouse.

Five vessels are currently kept there. Aegon’s sailboat is a 25-foot Wianno Senior sloop, just roomy enough for a few passengers. He’s had it since long before you married into the Targaryen family. It is white with hand-painted gold accents; the name Sunfyre adorns the stern. He unmoors the boat, pushes it out into the open water, and raises the sails.

You glide eastbound over the glittering crests of waves, slowly at first, then faster as the sails catch the wind. Aegon has one hand on the rudder, the other grasping the ropes. And the farther you get from shore, the smaller Asteria seems, and the Targaryen family, and the presidential election, and the United States itself. Now all that exists is this boat: you, Aegon, the squawking gulls, the school of mackerel, the ocean. The sun beats down; the breeze rips strands of your hair free. The battery-powered record player is blasting White Room by Cream. When you are far enough from land that no journalists would be able to get a photo, Aegon takes two joints and his Zippo out of the pocket of his swim trunks. He puts both joints between his lips, lights them, and passes you one. Then he stretches out beside you on the deck, gazing up at the September sky.

You ask as your muscles unravel and your thoughts turn light and easy to share: “Why did you bring me out here?”

“So you can drown yourself,” Aegon says, and you both laugh. “Nah. I used to go sailing all the time when I was a teenager. It always made me feel better. It was the only place where I could really be alone.”

You consider the math. “Wow. You haven’t been a teenager since before I was in kindergarten.”

“It’s weird to think about. You don’t seem that young.”

“Thanks, I guess. You don’t seem that old.”

“Maybe we’re meeting in the middle.” He inhales deeply and then exhales in a rush of smoke. “What do you think, should I get an earring?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“It might shock Otto so bad it kills him.”

“I’ll get two.” And then Aegon says: “It’s not cool for you to mock me.”

You are dismayed; you didn’t mean to hurt him. “I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were. You were mocking me. You mocked me about the receipt under my ashtray, and then you mocked me again last night. I’m up for a lot of things, but I can’t handle that. Okay?”

“Okay.” You turn your head so you can see him: shaggy blonde hair, stubble, perpetual sunburn, the softness of his belly and his chest, flesh you long to vanish into like rain through parched earth. “Aegon?”

He looks over at you. “Io?”

“I don’t want Aemond to touch me either.”

He’s surprised; not by what you feel, but because you’ve said it aloud, a treason like Prometheus giving mankind the gift of fire. “What are we gonna do about it?”

If you were the goddess of wisdom, maybe you’d know.

[metamorphesque]

so interesting that armenians don't consider themselves european! i am a little uneducated on this topic, so i've never thought otherwise. i'm now gonna research this topic more, thank you. how would you say armenians determine themselves?

I’d like to start by saying that, for me, being considered Asian or European holds no inherent preference. My answer contains no malcontent; I am simply addressing the question as it's been posed. Interestingly, I had never thought of myself as European. I’ve always identified as Asian and as someone from the Caucasus.

I’ll explain my reasoning shortly, but first, let’s not confuse "Caucasian", meaning a person from the Caucasus, and the term "Caucasian" as coined by Blumenbach in his highly problematic racial theory. Many people use "Caucasian" to refer to white people (a surprise to me at first) without knowing the term’s problematic origins. Blumenbach categorized humanity into five groups—Caucasian, Mongolian, Malayan, Ethiopian, and American. His work was mostly scientific, but he showed bias by declaring the skull of a Georgian woman the “most handsome”, suggesting that the most beautiful people lived on the southern slopes of Mount Caucasus. He then made a leap by claiming that whiteness was the “primitive color of mankind”. This is how "Caucasian" became synonymous to "white" and this is why I find the use of "Caucasian" to mean white people so problematic. But, once again, when I call myself/Armenians Caucasian, it is because we are actually from Caucasus.

Armenians are indigenous to the Armenian Highlands, which are bordered by the Pontic Mountains to the north, the Caucasus Mountains to the northeast, the Zagros Mountains to the south, and the eastern Taurus Mountains to the west. This clearly places us in Western Asia, not Europe. Modern-day Armenia occupies only a small part of the historical Armenian Highlands, situated in the South Caucasus. So, in conclusion, as an Armenian, I don’t consider Armenians to be European.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: Animals

for your next poem/story

Aardwolf - a maned striped nocturnal mammal (Proteles cristatus) of southern and eastern Africa that resembles the related hyenas and feeds chiefly on insects and especially termites

Bittern - any of various small or medium-sized, short-necked, usually secretive herons

Chevrotain - (also called mouse deer) any of several very small hornless deerlike ruminant mammals of tropical Asia, the Malay archipelago, and West Africa superficially resembling the musk deer, the male having short tusks, and being among the smallest known ruminants, standing only about a foot high

Douroucouli - (also called owl monkey) any of several small nocturnal monkeys (genus Aotus) of Central and South American tropical forests that have round heads, large eyes, and densely furred bodies

Eland - either of two large African antelopes (Taurotragus oryx and Taurotragus derbianus) bovine in form with short spirally twisted horns in both sexes

Falconet - any of several very small falcons

Gemsbok - a large and strikingly marked oryx (Oryx gazella) formerly abundant in southern Africa

Hoatzin - a crested large South American bird (Opisthocomos hoazin) with blue facial skin, red eyes, brown plumage marked with white above, and claws on the first and second digits of the wing when young

Ichneumon - a mongoose (Herpestes ichneumon) of Africa, southern Europe, and southwestern Asia

Jacana - any of a family (Jacanidae) of long-legged and long-toed tropical wading birds that frequent coastal freshwater marshes and ponds

Klipspringer - a small antelope (Oreotragus oreotragus) that is somewhat like the chamois in habits and is found from Cape Colony to Somaliland

Lammergeier - a large Old World vulture (Gypaetus barbatus) that occurs in mountainous regions, has long black bristles at the base of the bill, and in flight resembles a very large falcon; bearded vulture

Muntjac - any of a genus (Muntiacus) of small deer of southeastern Asia with an alarm call similar to the bark of a dog and having in the male elongated, downward-pointing upper canine teeth which protrude from the lip and short, usually unbranched, pointed antlers; barking deer

Nightjar - any of a family (Caprimulgidae) of medium-sized long-winged crepuscular or nocturnal birds (such as the whip-poor-wills and nighthawks) having a short bill, short legs, and soft mottled plumage and feeding on insects which they catch on the wing

Ouzel - blackbird

Palfrey - archaic: a saddle horse other than a warhorse; especially: a lady's light easy-gaited horse

Quetzal - a Central American trogon (Pharomachrus mocinno) that has brilliant green plumage above, a red breast, and in the male long upper tail coverts

Rosella - an Australian parakeet (Platycercus eximius) often kept as a cage bird having the head and back of the neck scarlet and the cheeks white, the back dark green varied with lighter green, and the breast red and yellow

Springhare - jumping hare i.e., a sciuromorph rodent (Pedetes cafer) of southern and eastern Africa that resembles a kangaroo in form, that is about two feet long, and that is tawny brown in color and of nocturnal and social habits

Thylacine - Tasmanian tiger i.e., a somewhat doglike carnivorous marsupial (Thylacinus cynocephalus) that formerly inhabited Tasmania but is now considered extinct

Uintatherium - a genus (the type of the family Uintatheriidae) of large herbivorous ungulate mammals of the order Dinocerata from the Eocene of Wyoming resembling elephants in size and in the conformation of their limbs and having three pairs of bony protuberances respectively on the parietal, maxillary, and nasal bones of the skill, a pair of canine tusks guarded by downwardly directed processes of the lower jaw but no upper incisors, and a proportionately very small brain

Vaquita - a small, highly endangered porpoise (Phocoena sinus) of the Gulf of California having a dark ring around the eyes and reaching only four to five feet (1.2 to 1.5 meters) in length

Whitecoat - a very young hair seal and especially a harp seal

Xiphias - a genus (the type of the family Xiphiidae) of large scombroid fishes comprising the common swordfish

Zho - (also called dzo) a hybrid between the yak and the domestic cow

More: Word Lists

[alphynix]

The evolution of falcons is rather poorly understood. Thanks to genetic evidence we know that they're closely related to seriemas, parrots, and passerines, but their fossil record is patchy and little is known about the early members of their lineage.

But a group knows as masillaraptorids are giving us a rare glimpse at what some early falconiforms were up to. Known from the Eocene of Europe, these long-legged predatory birds seem to have been caracara-like terrestrial hunters specializing in chasing down prey on foot – although their wings and tails indicate they were also still strong fliers.

Danielsraptor phorusrhacoides lived during the early Eocene, about 55 million years ago, in what is now eastern England. Although only known from partial remains, it was probably around 45-60cm long (~1'6"-2'), and it had a large hooked beak with a surprising amount of convergent similarity to those of the flightless South American terror birds.

Its mixture of falcon-like and seriema-like features may indicate that the common ancestor of both of these bird groups was a similar sort of leggy ground-hunting predator.

———

NixIllustration.com | Tumblr | Twitter | Patreon

[fairuzfan]

not to minimise what trump has done. he is… terrible in every which way. but… why is there a comparison between trump’s reign vs biden’s? biden is endorsing genocide openly and proudly and bypassing congress or whatever to send israel ammunition.

how is he still “the lesser evil?”

i think if people started comparing, you’d have to acknowledge that nothing trump’s done comes close to what biden is doing. especially not on a global scale. and that’s really just a pointless conversation to begin with. biden’s current political policies have led to the murder of 30,000+ people. i don’t think anyone should be comparing him to trump or forming hypotheticals when the reality is that biden is killing people. he doesn’t deserve a vote because he’s killing people. how can anyone live with themselves by endorsing a war criminal so blatantly?

i feel like this entire conversation kind of shows just how unaware americans are of their own politics and of the world outside of the US. how is this the conversation you’re having? how is this even a point to argue? especially with a palestinian who’s people and family and friends are being murdered with biden’s backing. why is nobody focusing on insisting for better candidates instead of the whole biden vs trump argument?

i mean trump did still do terrible things in yemen and syria, i dont think we should forget that but biden perpetuated a lot of that and didn't end it. but now we're looking at the darfur genocide, the continued sanctions on syria, palestinian genocide, armenian expulsion, and just so many other things. And that's just in swana and south eastern europe!

biden expanded the border wall, kept the concentration camps in the south, basically got rid of masking policy leading to the death of thousands, and just so much more. like what?! how is he "lesser" like honestly honestly, how is he lesser of an evil. he did this shit and feels no regret for any of it. so no i don't think anyone in the democratic party is a "lesser evil" i think they sat by while all this stuff happened and continue to sit by. so is it better that they're able to put on pretenses??

[yamishika]

have any other ethnicity headcanons for fairy tail characters?

Fairy Tail Characters Ethnicity HCs

I don’t have as much extensive proof as I do for my Erik headcanons post but I will explain my thoughts for why I think certain ethnicities.

Natsu Dragneel : Japanese + Greek? (Because of the clothing style in his past flashback with his biological family)

Erza Scarlet : British + ? - I say British because she reminds me of Lara Croft who in her older days had reddish hair, also English history is big on knights, which Erza is. The other half I can’t tell as I don’t actually know what to think of her father Rung as. He seems like a POC though. (Maybe Mexican?)

Lucy Heartfilia : British / American - Because Lucy’s heritage as a noble it reminds me more of English nobility, but then her characteristics remind me more of american for some reason (it doesn’t help that Lucy looks a lot like Ashley Graham from the original RE4 and she’s American so I am kind of biased there)

Gray Fullbuster : Canada or Serbia (I think that’s mainly because I am making the link of cold countries though). Also if with Serbian I can see Ultear and him coming from similar places)

Gajeel Redfox : Native American (His hair and features remind me of Native Americans and I don’t know he kind of reminds me and looks like of Ratohnhake:ton / Connor from AC3) Juvia Lockser : Spanish + Russian (Spanish as the name Juvia is Spanish origin and Russian since the ushanka she wears and her clothing style in general)

Jellal Fernandes : Mixed ethnic - Mixed Arab (mainly Levantine Arab) + Brazilian, but then in my HCs he’s also part Desi too since the name Jellal is most prominent in India (And I want Erik to have a desi bro in CS). And the Arab/South asian idea came from him wearing Kohl/Surma in S1 in the anime. 

Ultear Milkovich : Serbian with mixed Central Asian or Kazakh (Again cold countries but since Ultear looks Eurasian but with dark features these countries came to mind. Serbia because apparently the name Milkovich is Serbian origin)

Macbeth/Midnight :  English w/Scottish + Irish + Japanese - English/Scottish/Irish is a given since his name ‘Macbeth’ but since his aesthetic is alike to Visual Kei, I see Japanese influence. But I don’t know, I just can see Macbeth with a british accent, maybe that’s just me.

Sorano Aguria : French and Korean/Japanese (I don’t know why I have the French, it just fits me when discussing with my friend @acutemushroom. Korean/Japanese because despite having a Japanese name (her and Yukino) due to her features she gave me kind of Korean vibes for some reason)

Sawyer : English (I can’t explain other than the name. But I thought of Romanian too for some reason, so English + Romanian?)

Richard Buchanan : South African + Scottish? (My only thought for this was because Buchanan I knew it as a last name big in South Africa, and Scottish is probably because of the red hair and ruddy complexion that I know scottish people can have)

Meredy : Irish (I don’t know why, it was hard to think of anything for her)

Kinana : Desi (Since the name Kinana is an urdu name apparently - So Pakistani) 

Cana Alberona : Irish + Italian (Guildarts gave me tanned Irish vibes for some reason and Alberona is I believe an Italian name)

Minerva Orland : Chinese + Latina (She wears a Cheongsam and her hair reminds me of Chinese culture but then I see Latina too) BUT, maybe she has Egyptian too and Italian since Minerva (Italian/Latin) but the blue eyeliner/eyeshadow she always has is alike to Malachite powder that was used by ancient egyptians 

Laxus Dreyar : Ukrainian + Russian (He gives me eastern europe vibes and also his features) but also since he's Makarov’s grandson he’d have Russian in him 

Makarov Dreyar : Russian - (I think his full name is of Russian origin but I can't be sure.) These are the HCs I have off the top of my head, hope this answers your question!

[luxflora]

I can only have 10 options, I thought we were supposed to get 12 now? I also haven't updated this app since May so maybe that's why. Anyways I would've preferred slightly more/different distinctions but this is what you get for now. My original "Are you from the Midwest?" poll had a surprising number of people not from the midwest, so I'm trying to see what the international data looks like. If this poll gets the expected results, I want to do another one that splits up the numbers more.

If I managed to leave out your region or made some other odd slip PLEASE tell me in the tags!!! ❤️🙏 I am not good at geography but I did my best

[gemsofgreece]

https://x.com/archeohistories/status/1803838446672449797

Αρχίσανε επιτέλους να μιλάνε για αυτά; Καιρός ήτανε.

- REPLY / COMMENTARY TO THE SUBMISSION -

Adding commentary in English because the tweet in the link is also in English. So, I searched a bit about the author, it turns out the study is not even as new as the tweeter account states (yeah I will probably never start calling it x, old habits die hard, let alone that it was a horrible name change to begin with, anyway!). The link refers to a book actually written in 2004 by historian Robert C. Davis,  “Christian Slaves, Muslim Masters: White Slavery in the Mediterranean, the Barbary Coast, and Italy, 1500–1800″. The book is legit and was well received  amongst readers and peer review alike. I had to search all that up in order to be sure what I am posting here, obviously.

Of course, when you’re from any place in the North Mediterranean and have the most basic knowledge of history, you don’t need this book to tell you first that there were massive practices of slavery commited by Asian and African muslims against Southern and Eastern Europeans, ever since the Late Middle Ages, especially and usually through piracy, but not only. It’s a well known fact. I was dumbfounded when I read in the tweet that the previous estimations in the American academic circles were on the tens of thousands. This is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. By studying the Modern Greek history alone, literally just early 19th century Greek history - a span of 30 years tops - there were hundreds of thousands of Greeks sold as slaves by the Ottomans. Now calculate this happening in all the north Mediterranean coast - spanning from Greece to Spain - for over 4 centuries. Obviously the reasons or the perpetrators weren’t always the same - it could be Ottomans, Arabs, Barbery pirates, mixed, it could be a market, it could be a war tactic, it could be retaliation, it could be a lot of things. Byzantine and Ottoman Greece was regularly mauled by pirates. In fact, there were also Ottoman Greek pirates, i.e in Mani. My point anyway is that estimating that number to the tens of thousands is ridiculous when that was even too little for a span of 30 years in Greece alone. Then again, I see that this book didn’t examine at all slavery in Greece and the Ottoman Empire. It is more about southwestern Europe. But still the old American estimations seemed - uhm - “diplomatically discreet”. The new book raises the number close to a million in the southwest alone.

I did well to look it up because I read that this book got almost exploited by far right groups who tried to create the rhetoric of an “eye for an eye”, suggesting the West Europeans and Americans were responding with slavery to the Barbery and Ottoman and other muslim slave traders (no, West Europeans and Americans would not go to such lengths for the sake of South Europeans, let’s put it like that, so the whole “white vengeance” argument is beyond stupid, let alone that it remains problematic). I must thus add that: the writer rejected such arguments openly, saying  "Two such enormous wrongs don’t make anything right.“

This is what I hate the most. People end up behaving the exact same way. Abusing history and the objectivity with which it must always be studied in order to serve their political rhetorics and ideologies. We will never learn from past mistakes, it seems as if we are incapable of doing it. You will NEVER see the topics of European / White / Christian people getting sold in multiple hundreds of thousands as slaves by non-Christian - POC (as Americans like to call them) being big in America. Or at least ackowledged and examined beyond academic circles. But this is exactly also what the far right groups attempted; to minimize the horrific, well studied Atlantic slave trade or “excuse” it! The level of bias and all these groups accusing each other of the very things they themselves commit…!

At some point, in one of my posts about Ottoman Greek history where I added some of the living conditions for a Christian far from the cosmopolitan areas of the Ottoman Empire (AKA lowkey almost any place besides Constantinople) - historically fact checked - at some point I got an impressively vile reply from a self-identifying “activist” who cursed at me and long story short they said I was a despicable liar. Of course, by “activist” we mean a muslim person who said their family history was affected by the western colonization, which I respect, but they could not equally respect that people of the same faith as them (not even the same nation!) could be capable of vile acts as well and their activism was limited only to people who had the exact same experience as they did. Everyone else was a despicable liar.  Anyway, needless to say, I wasn’t lying.

And before someone says “oH YoU taLK abOUt BIas buT ALExandER-”. Of course. We have said this a thousand times over. Ancient Greece practiced slavery, not even just to foreigners or POC but also Greeks enslaving other Greeks, like, top THAT. But so did the Sumerians, the Hebrews, the Hittites, the Babylonians, the Egyptians, the Romans and the Persians at least after the Achaemenid dynasty. You know?

But this is exactly the point and this is ultimately the reason I am personally publishing and commenting to this submission; to make a point that who is an oppressor, a slave trader, a wrongdoer of any sort has NOTHING to do with skin, religion, geography and I can’t believe there are people living in 2024 in advanced societies truly believing this. It is not some genetical trait of white people to be slave traders. The only thing it takes is power imbalance and a little touch of convenient propaganda for any human to commit and normalize the most horrendous deed. If they are morally weak, of course, which is also not a genetical trait and unfortunately it is not rare at all, anywhere in the world.

[tanadrin]

@sadoeconomist

Something politically aware people on every part of the political spectrum from the left to the right think is true and leaders of the Russian, Chinese, Israeli, etc. governments believe in enough to talk about publicly and make major geopolitical decisions based on maybe is not just a crazy fringe conspiracy theory, could be that there's some truth to the CIA, NED, etc. having more involvement in these events than the video author thinks I watched all this stuff happen in real time, and I read your notes, which went over how Russian hybrid warfare succeeded in Crimea in 2014. Every major power takes hybrid warfare seriously, what's objectively stupid is your mischaracterization of how it works. Trying to astroturf a revolution out of nowhere simply by paying random citizens en masse to overthrow the government would indeed be stupid but that's not what it is. Your notes seem to suggest that the video says US was paying little attention to eastern Europe until 2013 but Russia was frequently reacting to imaginary US provocations because they are stupid. It's like there's a giant America-shaped hole in the video's narrative. Ukraine was understood to be a NATO-Russia geopolitical battleground long before Euromaidan, it wasn't just Putin shadowboxing imaginary opponents out of pure stupidity that led to this.

You seem to be operating on the basic assumption that governments don't do stupid things for no reason, or fall prey to obviously inane conspiracy theories. That's simply not true; governments are led by human beings, human beings are subject to a common set of cognitive biases, and when you're an authoritarian right-winger (as the leaders of Russia, China, and Israel all are right now), an explanation for your apparent unpopularity that pins all the blame on the CIA instead of your shitty policies and your attempts to cling to power flatters those biases.

But we don't need to speculate about the propensity of governments to do stupid shit, because we have plenty of historical and contemporary examples of governments believing in nonsense: Havana Syndrome in the US, AIDS denialism in South Africa, anti-Semitic conspiracy theories in Nazi Germany and Imperial Russia, etc., etc. And often these false beliefs lead to real strategic blunders: the Bay of Pigs, the Iraq War, World War II, etc. Sometimes world leaders are stupid! Like, leadership probably tends to select for some kinds of intelligence and ability--charisma, social intelligence, and so forth--but it doesn't automatically make you a geopolitical genius, or make you immune to believing false things about the world.

And the biggest problem with the conspiracy theory outlined here isn't just that we can trace its origin to a fringe American political cult, it's that it's not necessary to explain any development in politics since 1989. There is no problem in understanding the revolutions of '89 or 2000-2014 that CIA involvement is necessary to solve. Indeed, as the videos point out (if you would actually watch them), trying to use "the CIA did it" as an explanation adds considerable problems, bc color revolution theory doesn't work. It's based on misconceptions, misunderstanding of data, and a healthy dose of paranoia.

The only real problem is trying to explain Putin's behavior--and that doesn't require color revolution theory to be true, only that Putin believes it is true. And why he would believe something is true, when he has the supposedly vast power of the Russian state at his beck and call, is easy to explain: authoritarian dictators surrounded by yes men do not have accurate pictures of the world! From Idi Amin to Saddam Hussein to Vladimir Putin, there is a common pattern of authoritarian dictators losing touch with reality, getting really weird, and coming to believe all kinds of counterproductive stuff that flatters their egos. It would be an even bigger problem to try to explain why Putin was immune to that dynamic after 24 years in power.

"World leaders don't shadowbox opponents out of pure stupidity" is an assumption that seems wholly ungrounded to me. Why not? World leaders do foolish things all the time on large and small scales. World leaders make mistakes. World leaders can become paranoid and out of touch--and if they lead countries without functioning electoral democracies, they can stay in power regardless. World leaders are not a magic special class of human being. They're just people. And whether it's because they're your uncle who watches nothing but OANN and Fox, or they're the President of Russia and they have yes-men and the Global Research guys telling them only what they want to hear, they can end up making absolute nonsense a load-bearing part of their worldview.

[totallynotcensorship]

i posted this once here and my personal but seeing the comments it seems it needs repeating

1- THERE IS NOTHING ANTI-SEMTIC ABOUT BEING ANTI-ZIONISTS

it isn't antisemitic to call actual monsters out on their human rights violations. by that logic criticizing the nazis would be racist towards Germans. you see how ridicules that is?

the target here is Zionism, not jewdism

2- zionism(and by extention israel) doesn't represent jewdism

Zionism is a nationalistic movement originating in eastern and central Europe that emerged in the latter part of the 19th century with the goal of founding a Jewish national state in Palestine

the ideology, goals, and actions of Zionists stand in stark contradiction to Jewish law.

the formation of a "jews state" is strictly forbidden according jewish law, as attested in talmud and midrash literature. and as attested by rabbis across time. according to which the return of the children of israel only happens by the hands of the messiah, not by forming an ethno-state

the actions of the state of israel ever sense it's foundation, from forcible evacuation of Palestinians, to continues murder and bloodshed are strictly outlawed by god's covenant as outlined in the books of the torah

3- most jews are NOT zionists. most zionists are NOT jewish

as outlined above: the laws of jewdism strictly forbids the idiology and actions. anyone not blinded by propaganda or bigotry can see this manifest it's self through the actions of groups like "jewish voices for piece", the public stands and talks by figures like Rabbi Yisroel Dovid Weiss, RABBI DOVID FELDMAN, and others. as well as the countless jew around the world who have been for decades and to this day protesting against the illegal colonist occupation by israel, and protesting for the return of the land of palestine to Palestinians.

israel is, and has been for decades, using antisemtism as a shield for criticism, while not caring for jewdism, it's practitioners, nor it's laws

Israel is a white settler colony, a continuation of the expansionist greed that led to the genocide, oppression, and land theft against the indigenous peoples of the Americas(be it america, canada, or the south American counties), of Australia, of new Zealand, of congo, of iraq, of afganistan, and of every single country, land, and people who suffered through europian colonialism

[thatwobblychair]

CoD The Other Good Guys Bear! Edition

What if the rest of the good guys in call of duty were bears? Part 2 - see Part 1 for 141 as bears

More bear facts! Cause bears are truly the best! 🐻💯

Alejandro: Mexican Grizzly Bear*

Ursus arctos nelsoni - now Ursus arctos horribilis

*depiction of what a mexican grizzly bear may have looked like alive

A now extinct subspecies of the grizzly bear that once inhabited northern Mexico. Due to its predation on cattle farms, they were considered pests and hunted by farmers. By the 1960s there were less than 30 individuals remaining. In 1974 the last known individual was shot in Sonora.

It was smaller than grizzly bears from the United states and Canada, and its colouration was said to range from a pale yellow to greyish-white with a darker undertone, though some individuals were described to be darker and reddish brown.

Due to its silvery fur, it was called 'el olso plateado' (the silvery bear) in Spanish, though it's name in the Ópatas language (an indigenous Mexican people's) was 'pissini'.

Rudy: Spectacled Bear "Andean Bear"

Tremarctos ornatus

The last remaining short-faced bear, native to the Andes Mountains in northern and western South America. Though all bears are omnivores, the spectacled bear has a mostly herbivorous diet with only 5-7% of their diet being meat.

The bear is named after it's distinctive eye markings, though not all spectacled bears may have such markings. Individuals can have highly variable fur patterns making it relatively easy to distinguish from one another.

It's short face and broad snout is thought to be an adaptation to a carnivorous diet despite it's herbivorous preferences.

Paddington Bear is said to be a Spectacled Bear from Peru.

Farah: Asian Black Bear "Moon Bear"

Ursus thibetanus

A medium sized bear native to Asia and highly adapted to arboreal life. It can be found in parts of Korea, China, Japan, eastern Russia, the Himalayas, southeastern Iran and northern India. It is listed as vulnerable due to deforestation and poaching for its body parts (used in traditional medicines).

The name 'moon bear' is given due to its distinctive creamy white cresent fur patch, though in some individuals it is "V" shaped. It has a powerful upper body stronger than it's lower limbs and are known to be the most bipedal of bears.

It has a reputation for extreme aggression despite their reclusive nature and there have been documented reports of unprovoked attacks. They are said to be more aggressive than the Eurasian Brown Bears that may cohabit the same areas and the American Black Bear.

Alex: American Black Bear

Ursus americanus

Alongside the Brown Bear, it is one of the only Bear species not threatened with extinction.

Despite living in North America, it is more closely related to the Asian Black Bear and Sun Bear than Grizzly Bears (North American Brown Bears) and Polar Bears. It's ancestors are thought to have split off from the Sun Bear.

Black Bears are distinguished from Grizzly Bears who may cohabit the same area, with their longer tall ears, straight face profile, shorter claws and lack of distinctive hump.

Teddy bears, Winnie-the-Pooh, and Smokey Bear are all inspired by the American Black Bear.

Nikolai: Polar Bear

Ursus maritimus

A large bear native to the Arctic. It is closely related to the Brown Bear and can hybridise with them though this is rare and not often seen. (See Grolar Bears)

They are the most carnivorous of all bear species (hypercarnivores), specialising in hunting seals through ambush attacks. Polar Bears are usually solitary but can be found in groups on land. They can form stable 'alliances' based on dominance hierarchies outside of breeding seasons with the largest males at the top.

It's common name was given in 1771, and was previously referred to as 'white bear', 'ice bear', 'sea bear', 'Greenland bear' in 13th - 18th century Europe. The Netsilik cultures (Inuit) named it 'nanook' and have several additional different names for them depending on sex and age of the polar bear.

Laswell: Kodiak Bear "Kodiak/Alaskan Brown Bear"

Ursus arctos middendorffi

Named after it's habitation of the Kodiak Archipelago in southwest Alaska, the Kodiak bear is the largest subspecies of Brown Bear, with some individuals comparable to the Polar Bear in size.

An island bear, it is 1.5-2x larger than it's mainland cousins the grizzly bear, though physically and physiologically, the two bears are very similar.

Due to its tendancy to feed in dense groups, it has thought to have developed more complex social behaviours (in comparison to mainland grizzly bears) to minimise infighting/fatalities via both verbal/ body posturing and social structures.

+

All info taken from wiki. Please let me know if ther any mistakes.

[aristotels]

re EE being in the periphery. i’m pretty sure there were articles about how germany uses EE countries in EU for cheap labor. like sure, they’re privileged compared to most say african states, but it’s not like WE countries give that privilege for free or out of good heart, when in reality it’s geographic control + cheap labor + brain drain. combined with the fact that EU doesn’t allow for state control of markets, it means that those EE countries that had state enterprises are now in disadvantage. like i think EE countries have more in common with latin american countries than western europe , idk.

yeah, and not only articles you can find in english, but there are actual studies and articles; they are however in croatian so i dont know how much help would that be (the emmigration issue here is huge, its mainly to germany/ireland) (we have so many SONGS about moving to germany and ireland too). heres wikipedia on it, i guess you can use google translate and it also lists something quite shocking: many cities and villages in croatia and bosnia have more people living in germany than in their respective native towns.

as for lived experience, when i visited germany, you could literally walk around the city and find our people there, mostly in low-skill jobs. i once said "u pičku materinu" and a totally random guy in the street was like "ooooo pa evo i naših". "arbajt" and "bauštela" are such common phrases here that they have become memes, and dalmatians from zagora literally wear mercedes signs around their necks. recently there was an article saying how, despite euro, people from imotski STILL mourn over the deutsch marke, because they used to go work there, and then would come home and just live for an entire month off one bill. they STILL convert euros to marke.

EE is a neo-colony to the WE. whenever i talk about this, while i do use EE as a term because its more understood than SEE (southern-eastern europe), my experiences are yugoslavian, and there are big differences between eastern bloc and exyu countries. it isnt the same, economically nor politically, since yugoslavia was a part of the third world movement, thus primarily working with african and latam countries in its past (also reason why we have the lowest skin-based-racism in europe)(different than nationality racism, thats what we excel at).

a lot of croats (esp dalmatians) mainly moved to latam countries during ww2 as opposed to the usa (the current chilean and argentinian presidents are croatian dalmatians)(sorry guys we are kinda ruining yalls countries)

it was very surprising to me when i started following global-south-commies on here, they always have very positive opinions of yugoslav countries. i find it very endearing how all my political yugoslav posts end up being hits among them.

politics unrelated, croats tend to love latam countries because of football, messi was literally the coolest person in the entire world while i was a kid. there are lots of similarities in mentality.

[otussketching]

Fossil Novembirb: Day 14 - Lost in the Woods

As the global climate was cooling during the Oligocene epoch, tropical rainforests started to shift towards their current distribution in the tropics, and open landscapes such as scrubland was spreading. But that doesn't mean forests were disappearing. In places like Central and Eastern Europe, forests shifted from tropical to temperate. And in these shifting landscapes, birds continued to adapt and diversify.

Turnipax: One of the earliest known members of a relatively obscure bird groups called buttonquails. Despite their quail-like appearance and lifestyle, buttonquails are shorebirds related to gulls and sandpipers.

Palaeotodus: This small insectivore is one of the first known members of the todies, a bird group nowadays restricted to the West Indies.

Primotrogon: An early member of the trogons which had a very different shape compared to its modern relatives, including long wings, a short tail, and relatively small eyes.

Eurotrochilus: The first known true hummingbird, a group now endemic to the Americas, but first appeared in Europe.

Aviraptor: A thrush-sized true hawk with long thin legs and sharp talons, this was a prime predator of small forest birds in the Oligocene.

Wieslochia: One of the earliest known passeriformes, a group that likely evolved in Australia,parts of it's skeleton resemble certain South American passeriforms, like cotingas.

Rupelramphastoides: As the earliest known ramphastid, it was closely related to the barbets as well as toucans, but it bore a closer resemblance to the former.

Oligocolius: A bizarre relative of modern mousebirds that had an appetite for seeds, as the holotype was preserved with seeds in its crop and gullet. It also had a slightly parrot-like beak.

Laurillardia: A distant relative of hoopoes and hornbills, this long winged and long tailed bird used its sharp beak to catch insects.

Rupelornis: A close relative of albatrosses, these seabirds had delicate beaks and long legs. They probably had a similar lifestyle to storm petrels, which carefully pick food from the surface of the water.