#population changes

[josephkravis]

Population Collapse: What Plummeting Birth Rates Mean for Humanity

What Plummeting Birth Rates Mean for Humanity!

What’s On My Mind Today? Population collapse isn’t just a sci-fi scenario or a dystopian plotline anymore—it’s a growing reality. As birth rates plummet worldwide, the implications for humanity are profound. Fewer births mean fewer workers, consumers, and innovators in the future. What does that mean for our economies, our cultures, and even our survival as a species? This isn’t a conversation…

[harrison-abbott]

[magnetothemagnificent]

The American far-right: (((They))) built space lasers and hurricane machines to create natural disasters in the United States!

The American far-left: A country the size of New Jersey is single-handedly accelerating climate change to create natural disasters in the United States!

You guys sound exactly the same

[neechees]

All groceries and food could be Free in the Arctic and I'd still want Northern Natives to continue hunting & whaling & fishing & sealing if that's what they want to do

[mapsontheweb]

Annual Population Growth of India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Bhutan & Sri-lanka

[canisalbus]

I'm sure you've already answered this but is Machete styled after a silken windhound? He is so very shaped

His breed is fictional, but it closely resembles modern day Ibizan hound. Both Silkens and Ibizans are sighthounds though, so you're not far off.

[sothasil]

Two blokes slacking off at work :p

Cretan diplomats based on a painting of the tomb of Rekhmire, Luxor. I was intruigued by the leopard skirt thingy one of them is wearing and drew a more or less realistic interpretation of it! The other guy's there so he can have a buddy.

While i usually draw people looking as average as possible, it's not the case here. It's fair to assume that within the "PR" context of the painting (representing their people in front of a foreign king) these would be the ancient aegean's hottest boytoys, so I kept them snatched and smooth shaved.

Originals under the cut!

Mural with my chosen duo highlighted

Cropped closeup, leopard skirt guy on the left (and the two arms of jugs guy!)

[serpentface]

A kulustaig bull, the distinctive cattle landrace of the highlands.

Kulustaig have striking differences to other native cattle found across the Imperial Wardi claimed territory. Their aurochs ancestors were domesticated in a separate event from those found south of the Inner Seaways, and the broader cattle population kulustaig derived from may have trace bison genetics. The progenitors of this landrace were brought south across the Viper seaway by the ancestors of the contemporary Hill Tribes, and were gradually shaped into the kulustaig in adaption to the high altitudes, mild but dry summers, and cool/snowy wet seasons.

These cattle are mid-sized and stocky in build with large, broad faces, most distinguished by curly manes and 'beards' and thick, V-shaped horns. Genetically undiluted kulustaig are almost ubiquitously black, white, and/or gray, though breeding with other cattle has introduced a greater variety of coloration in contemporary stocks.

They are adapted to higher altitudes, having larger hearts and a bigger lung capacity than comparable lowland breeds, and grow thick, curly winter coats that allow for superior resistance to seasonally cooler temperatures. They can maintain condition on less food and lower-nutrition grasses than the average cattle, and are excellent instinctive foragers. This particular quality makes them attractive for crossbreeding efforts with cattle stock of the dry scrublands in the south of Imperial Wardin, though most of their other traits are highly unfavorable for hot, low altitude environments, and scrub-kulustaig hybrids with idealized traits are rare (and highly sought after as studs).

These are all-purpose cattle that can adequately fulfill roles as meat, draft, and dairy animals, though the latter role has the most importance in day to day life, and they show the most selection for milk production (though are not as high-yield as pure dairy breeds). Their meat is mostly lean and somewhat gamey, as they rely more on thick winter coats than fat stores to manage cold, and the vast majority subsist entirely on wild grasses and forage.

Most kulustaig have fairly calm, gentle temperaments, and accommodate well to human handling (it is not uncommon for cows and geldings to be passively ridden by herders otherwise traveling on foot). Their herds have strong, well defined, and stable dominance hierarchy structures, which reduces actual fighting and lends to them being more easily managed by their human herders. In most traditions, the dominant female in each herd is regarded as blessed by and belonging to the agricultural goddess Od, and will not be milked or slaughtered (this untouchable status is often maintained even if the cow's rank in the hierarchy is displaced, though traditions vary).

Bulls are almost ubiquitously given personal names by their owners (the honor often belonging to a family or clan's matriarch, who is generally considered the owner of the herd and other familial assets), while other traditions vary between just the bulls and dominant cows, personal favorites, or entire herds receiving names.

These cattle are of tremendous importance to the peoples of the highlands (particularly tribes and/or individual clans living above the river valleys, who fundamentally rely upon them for subsistence). They provide much of the meat and dairy that the core diet revolves around, and are the greatest measure of wealth within the highlands. Non-native cattle can be commonly found in parts of the highlands in the contemporary (and may be bred in to impart unique qualities to established stock, such as improved milk production or fattier meat), but kulustaig are typically prized above all the rest. These cattle are often a source of great pride for individual clans, and one of few agreed upon markers of shared identity and pride for all of the collective Hill Tribes.

Cattle raiding is a near-ubiquitous practice (both as a practical resource acquisition, and a less immediately lethal method of settling larger disputes than open warfare), and most cattle will be branded with a mark identifying their owning clan as a method of dissuading theft (often futile, particularly given cattle marked as belonging to certain wealthy clans may be especially prized). Nose rings are commonly used to assist in the handling of bulls, but have secondary protective functions that lend to their common use in even the most docile of cattle. Rings are usually blessed or have spells woven into their making as a supernatural barrier against theft, or against malicious (or at least devious) mountain spirits such as tiirgranul (who take pleasure in frightening cattle (and their herders) and are known to cause stampedes) or wildfolk (who are known to sometimes steal or curse cattle when offended, or just bored).

The word kulustaig derives from the common word 'taig'/'taigr', which refers to cattle in the contemporary languages of both the Hill Tribes and Finns, and the 'kul' root (heavily antiquated and not used in contemporary speech, most commonly recognizable in the name of the kulys plant), which has connotations of hardiness/robust qualities. The name would have derived from complimentary descriptions of the animals as 'the best and most robust of cattle'.

[abernthyss]

Let’s appreciate this picture tho!! The hand placement! The proximity! The way in which they literally look like their eating each other’s faces!!! The way Jordan is leaning her WHOLE BODY into Marie. The way Marie is holding onto Jordan like they’re the last people on earth. Like their her lifeline, her anchor.

I can imagine the sounds, how Jordan must have sighed so loudly when Marie kissed them in her fem form and proved all her insecurities wrong. Marie’s heavy breathing because she’s been traumatized and forced to lead this small group of supes who are her friends/girlfriend/boyfriend/themfriend and must feel so stressed out so kissing Jordan must just make all the tension leave her body and relax her.

[wewontbesleeping]

the more that people view progress as an inevitable and linear side effect of time, the less we'll accomplish. gen z says they're the most progressive generation of all time, and once the boomers die, everything will just be Fixed. isn't that awesome?? all we have to do is just wait! we don't even have to do anything and it's actually pointless and stupid to try. because the world just gets better and better, it's the natural order! oh, gen z teens are more likely to be more conservative than their parents than millenials? and white teenagers are more conservative than both millenials and boomers? damn. crazy. anyways, not much a point doing anything until the boomers die, yeah? anyways, there's problems on both sides!

[loubatas]

Holy fuck, I have just learned that starting from today, your Allocation Adulte Handicapé (French state's allowance for disabled adults who can't work) is no longer tied to your partner's income!

This means disabled adults can now live with their partner and even get married without losing part or all of their allowance, as it was before!

This will help so many of us. So many of us who had to live with their partner because they needed their help everyday and so couldn't get governmental financial help and had to scrap on with only one person's income. So many of us who had to stay with their abusive partner because they didn't have any income of their own. And so many of us who had to live alone because we couldn't afford to lose our allowance

That's the best news I've heard this year. Disability benefits being tied to your partner's income is still the norm in most countries. I hope it'll spread to the rest of the world quickly

(Source)

[shakingparadigm]

Take me back I was happier here

[sil-te-plait-tue-moi]

When the pawn hits the conflicts, he thinks like a king.

Quick summary: Rust catches you trying to work him.

Word count: 754 words

Warnings: N/A

A/N: Another attempt at trying to get past the astronomical writer's block I experienced after writing The Idler Wheel. This was one of my first tries at a second chapter (in like February T_T), like a little scene, but I didn't like th way it panned out: it felt like they were fighting and I didn't necessarily want them to fight explicitly with each other in the final story. If this feels unfinished, it's because I abandoned it after ten minutes. ENjoy!!!!@

***

“Are you lonely again?” he asks quietly.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think he couldn’t be paying attention to me: eyes fixed on the moon, which is full like a plate, so distant, as if he’s imagining a different life up there; even his body is tilted away from me, like, really, I could burn him. But I do know him. I can’t get it out of my head: I can’t stop interpreting every little thing he does. It started as a pass-time, an excuse to steal glances at the handsome, quiet guy at work. Now, it’s obsessive. No-one knows him, watches him, like I do. No-one else has been with him like I have. There’s a calmness to this fact: in that way, he’s mine. That’s the only way.

Rust angles his head towards me, but he doesn’t look. Maybe I should be glad for it. “You were lonely in the summer, weren’t you? That’s why you wanted me then. Somethin’ to make you feel real.”

Every fibre of mine twitches to disagree with him, to defend myself, my actions—but there’s no way I could do anything without condemning myself. If attachment is a burden to Rust, then how disgusted will it make him when he uncovers just how much I really think about him?

“I don’t appreciate bein’ treated like this sheep you can herd into a pen.”

“I’m not tryin’—”

“Does the intention really matter if the action’s already taken effect?” he cuts off calmly, finally, with an accusing dart of his eyes to shut me up for good measure. When I grow silent again, he continues: “Quittin’ cigarettes doesn’t make a person into what you are right now. You value how people perceive you — that’s how you measure your worth, right? That’s not uncommon. But the way you act out—?” he clicks his tongue, “—well, I didn’t figure that out till later. The way you’re genuine only when you think it doesn’t matter. Makin’ small talk and smilin’ like you do. You’re a well-liked person, know that?” He pauses to take a lazy drag of his cigarette. “But then, when you think the stakes are high, you’re somethin’ different. Some changeling, vyin’ to get what you want, so cunning. Other people don’t see it, but I do. When your niceties stop bein’ second nature; when you have to think about it, plan, strategise. Like you’re almost a person but not quite anymore. Why is that?”

I blink at my shoes, brimming with confusion. For every word that leaves him, I try to scrub it clean to find any inclination of what he’s feeling, only to come away confused.

“I couldn’t blame you when you were drunk,” he confesses. “But I’m glad for this talk — true colours ‘n’ shit.”

What the fuck? My face sours into a dangerous scowl as my hard stare snaps up to bore into the side of his self-satisfied face. “You’re lookin’ to blame me?”

Rust stares off into the dark, shaking his head. “No. But I want to. I tell myself that the only reason you showed up at my door was ‘cause you were drunk and you were lonely. That you missed Brooklyn, or you missed your family. I was the next best thing to offer you comfort: this idea you had of me in your head. You thought, maybe, I’d want to take care of you. And to convince me to do that, you just had to take that first step o’ sleepin’ with me.” He exhales slowly, eyes fluttered shut, and his lithe fingers tremble around his cigarette. “That’s what you’re doin’ now, ain’t it? You’re tryin’ to get me because you’re lonely again, for whatever reason.”

Holy shit, he is one conceited bastard. “Have you ever considered I might just like you?” I hiss incredulously, eye twitching.

Rust tenses.

A dog barks alone in the neighbourhood over.

“Some things aren’t complicated at all,” I mumble, leaning back against the damp brick with a quivering sigh. “You wanna know what it was? I thought you were attractive and would never want to talk to me, so I didn’t. But I liked the way you talked behind my back — Johansson liked you for that, too. And I liked the way you tip at bars. And then, suddenly, people weren’t people. They were all shades of you. A guy smoked like you. And the precinct isn’t where I work; it’s where you work. It’s where I get to see you.”

[messangerforthestars]

“We need more morally gray characters” you guys can barely handle topaz and jade.

[in-asterism]

cursed daughter of a blessed mother who is the blessed daughter of a cursed mother who is the cursed daughter of a cursed mother

[mapsontheweb]

Japan Annual Population Change