the land of the living men

3

An address to the nation to be read by President Richard Nixon should the Apollo 11 astronauts become stranded on the moon,

To: H. R. Haldeman
From: Bill Safire

July 18, 1969.

——————————————————————————-

IN EVENT OF MOON DISASTER:

Fate has ordained that the men who went to the moon to explore in peace will stay on the moon to rest in peace.

These brave men, Neil Armstrong and Edwin Aldrin, know that there is no hope for their recovery. But they also know that there is hope for mankind in their sacrifice.

These two men are laying down their lives in mankind’s most noble goal: the search for truth and understanding.

They will be mourned by their families and friends; they will be mourned by the nation; they will be mourned by the people of the world; they will be mourned by a Mother Earth that dared send two of her sons into the unknown.

In their exploration, they stirred the people of the world to feel as one; in their sacrifice, they bind more tightly the brotherhood of man.

In ancient days, men looked at the stars and saw their heroes in the constellations. In modern times, we do much the same, but our heroes are epic men of flesh and blood.

Others will follow, and surely find their way home. Man’s search will not be denied. But these men were the first, and they will remain the foremost in our hearts.

For every human being who looks up at the moon in the nights to come will know that there is some corner of another world that is forever mankind.

PRIOR TO THE PRESIDENT’S STATEMENT:

The President should telephone each of the widows-to-be.

AFTER THE PRESIDENT’S STATEMENT, AT THE POINT WHEN NASA ENDS COMMUNICATIONS WITH THE MEN:

A clergyman should adopt the same procedure as a burial at sea, commending their souls to “the deepest of the deep,” concluding with the Lord’s Prayer.

a song of ice and fire: the night’s watch

“Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night’s Watch, for this night and all the nights to come.”

2

I want to live forever in a land where summer lasts a thousand years. I want a castle in the clouds where I can look down over the world. I want to be six-and-twenty again. When I was six-and-twenty I could fight all day and fuck all night. What men want does not matter. Winter is almost upon us, boy. And winter is death. I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned’s little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks. No one sings songs of men who die like that. As for me, I am old. This will be my last winter. Let me bathe in Bolton blood before I die. I want to feel it spatter across my face when my axe bites deep into a Bolton skull. I want to lick it off my lips and die with the taste of it on my tongue.

8

The Lord of the Rings II The Fellowship of the Ring
“The world is changed. I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Much that once was, is lost. For none now live, who remember it. It began with the forging of the Great Rings. Three were given to the Elves, immortal, wisest and fairest of all beings. Seven, to the Dwarf lords, great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls. And nine, nine rings were gifted to the race of Men, who above all else, desire power. For within these Rings was bound the strength and will to govern each race. But they were all of them, deceived. For another ring was made. In the land of Mordor, in the fires of Mount Doom, the dark lord Sauron forged in scret a master ring to control all others. And into this ring, he poured his cruelty, his malice and his will to dominate all life. One Ring to rule them all…“

In 2017, I’ll continue to be a feminist killjoy

My feminism is often viewed as a perpetual state of anger. But I’m OK with that. I’m not sorry to tell my mother, the rest of my family, my friends and my colleagues that I intend to stay angry about the inequalities and injustices in the world. I’ll stay angry about offhand comments at the dinner table and about the dozen sexual assault allegations against our president-elect, plus everything in between.

I will not leave my anger behind in 2016, with all of the terrible things that produced it. I will stay mad in 2017, and for good reason.

It’s no overstatement to say that women’s lives are at stake. And if not our lives, our place in society which is still, if we look closely, below many men, for even if we manage to earn our equal pay, land the promotion, get everything we want, we’ll still fear men who’ll hurl sexist insults at us, grab our genitals or worse. We’ll live in a country whose president boasts an insatiable appetite to degrade and publicly humiliate women just for sport.

That scares me.

If we are unhappy, it is because our country was built on the backs of slaves. If we are divided, it isn’t because I’ve pointed out the existence of racism — it’s because racism exists. If we are distraught it’s because our new president wants to tell women what they can and can’t do with their bodies, and reminded us that he would do whatever he wanted with ours. If we are joyless, it’s because there’s still a sexual assault epidemic and there are still black men and boys being gunned down in the street.

The least we can do is make sure we’re not quiet about it.

I won’t stop being a killjoy unless it stops being demanded of me. Many women have already readied themselves for the battle ahead, making donations to Planned Parenthood in Trump and Vice President-elect Mike Pence’s names, sending Pence bloody tampons and organizing a post-inauguration march that expects to see some 160,000 protesters in Washington.

It’s our responsibility also to challenge the rising bipartisan backlash against political correctness. We must remind each other that a joke simply isn’t funny if it preys on those who will be most affected by a Trump presidency and its many evils. We must not let anyone trick us into thinking that “political correctness” is a matter of suppressing free speech with “trigger warnings” or “safe spaces,” but remember that it’s always been about caring about people who have less privilege than we do.

— Marie Solis (opinion) | Read more

All witches are selfish, the Queen had said. But Tiffany’s Third Thoughts said: Then turn selfishness into a weapon! Make all things yours! Make other lives and dreams and hopes yours! Protect them! Save them! Bring them into the sheepfold! Walk the gale for them! Keep away the wolf! My dreams! My brother! My family! My land! My world! How dare you try to take these things, because they are mine! I have a duty!
—  The Wee Free Men, Terry Pratchett
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the starks + those they (attempt to) protect
    (ned & jon, catelyn & brienne, sansa & robert, jon & sam, arya & gendry and hot pie)

“A thousand years before the Conquest, a promise was made, and oaths were sworn in the Wolf’s Den before the old gods and the new. When we were sore beset and friendless, hounded from our homes and in peril of our lives, the wolves took us in and nourished us and protected us against our enemies. The city is built upon the land they gave us. In return we swore that we should always be their men. Stark men!” - Wylla Manderly, A Dance with Dragons, Chapter 19

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A Song of LadiesWylla Manderly

I know about the promise,” insisted the girl. “Maester Theomore, tell them! A thousand years before the Conquest, a promise was made, and oaths were sworn in the Wolf’s Den before the old gods and the new. When we were sore beset and friendless, hounded from our homes and in peril of our lives, the wolves took us in and nourished us and protected us against our enemies. The city is built upon the land they gave us. In return we swore that we should always be their men. Stark men!”― Davos III, A Dance with Dragons.

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“The world is changed. I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember it. It began with the forging of the Great Rings. Three were given to the Elves, immortal, wisest and fairest of all beings. Seven to the Dwarf lords, great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls. And nine, nine rings were gifted to the race of Men, who, above all else, desire power. But they were, all of them, deceived, for another ring was made. In the land of Mordor, in the fires of Mount Doom, the Dark Lord Sauron forged in secret a Master Ring, to control all others. And into this ring he poured his cruelty, his malice and his will to dominate all life. One Ring to rule them all!

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Lexa + Night’s Watch Vows:

Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honour to the Night’s Watch, for this night and all the nights to come.

The Lion and the Flayed Man (Joffrey x Reader x Ramsay)

Originally posted by won-der-land89

(Gif credit to owner)

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Characters: Joffrey Baratheon and Ramsay Bolton

Persona: Female

Word Count: 1,231

Warning: Violence, mentions of blood

Request: Hey could you write a Joffrey x Reader x Ramsay? Where the reader is a Stark and she’s betrothed to Joffrey and Ramsay is not happy about it so he arrives in King’s landing to fight Joffrey and there could be 2 endings; one for Joffrey and one for Ramsay or something along those lines. Thank you very much! ^_^ 

A/N - Instead of doing two separate parts, I added the two different endings on here, enjoy <3


You sat in your room, another secret letter from your admirer who lived in the North lay across your lap. After recently becoming betrothed to Joffrey it meant that if he, or any of his men found the letters, they’d hunt him down and that was not what you wanted and only the gods know what Joffrey would do to you. 

People thought that Joffrey was jumping too quickly into things; after all he had set the wedding date to be sometime this week. People like his mother, his trusted advisors and even you had tried to convince him to wait a bit but each attempt was met with a harsh response and an explanation that his love with you was love at first sight.

What Joffrey didn’t know was that while you when Winterfell had fallen to the Boltons, Roose’s bastard, Ramsay took a liking to you very quickly and needless to say you were happy to keep your past relationship secret.

Keep reading

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He knew it was wrong.
He knew it was wrong to long for her, to want her, to be with her, to talk with her.
He knew it was wrong to look long after she had left, and let his eyes wonder over her.
He knew that it was wrong to dream of her in ways he had never dreamt of anyone, for she was everything he had grown up hating.
They took her from the hour of sleep, and the bed she had slept in every night, and the house she had lived in since she was a babe and brought her on a wooden horse over many seas and many days until they landed back in a town called Kattegat. Many people stood by the shore and greeted the men that took her from her bed. She was shoved and prodded until she got into the great hall where she was laughed and cursed at.
She’d been labeled a slave along with a handful of other woman and men. They were all frightened and begging to be set free, set free so they could go home.
She was assigned to look after a monstrous man, whom she had come to know was a boy. She was older than him, much older than him, but yet, he seemed like he knew a lot and like there was a lot of things he could teach her.
His older brothers, the princes, were her age. Yet, they never really had much time for her. They had political issues and battle issues that threatened them and they needed to attend to those.
His name is Ivar. That’s what she called him, that’s what everyone called him. The cripple, the reject. Although those words seemed harsh for her to admit to herself.
She hated serving him. He would call her names, make fun of her, voice her as the worst servant he’s had, but he would look long after she had left, sneak in peaks of lust and longing, only for his gaze to be ripped away by a shaking head and annoyed grumble under his breath.
It was confusing for her. Confusing for her head and her heart. She hated him, yes, but he was the only person who talked to her. Even if it was a demand to fetch some ale, or to grab some food for him. He was the only one that would ask her about her home, and what it was like to live there.
He loved to learn.
He loved to learn about what she knew about the world she lived in. About how everything worked. About their God, their beliefs.
It all seemed so fast, so slow, so agonisingly slow, but like it went in a blur.
After days, weeks, months of longing for her, he finally had her. In the darkness of the night and the quiet of the birds, he had her.
They talked, and cuddled and thought long and hard about how they would keep this up.
And they did. They kept it up.
Until the Queen found out.
The Queen ordered for her to be dragged out of bed and thrown into the dirt before the great hall.
There, she stood. Bruised and battered and crying. The Queen raised a hand and struck her such a blow it left a red mark. She whimpered as tears streamed down her face. And avoided the gaze of the boy she had come to love.
His face was struck with shock as she was forced to her knees. She wasn’t allowed to look the Queen in the face, but she couldn’t look at him either.
“You haven’t been doing your job, slave.” The words were spat out, and trampled in the dirt along with her very being. “Anyone can take her.” The Queen looked at the crowd. “Does anyone want her?”
A man stepped forward. His young daughter behind him. “We will take her, Queen Aslaug.” He says. “Our farm is large and we need a few extra hands.”

She longed for him after she was taken. She wanted him. She wanted his company, his companionship, his attention.
She was treated well living with the farmers. She even began to call the little girl her sister. She heard the news about the Queen’s death, and how Ivar had come back from the quest to England with the news of his fathers death.
She wanted nothing more than to console him. And she waited. Waited for him to crawl up the hill and whisk her away.
But he never did.
He thinks of her still. But does not want her to be hurt again, so he leaves her be. He often finds himself singing a little song she used to sing, just to remember her evermore.

2

Thanksgiving and the Past and Present Atrocities.
Built on the genocide and tragic massacre of an entire people.

A group of English explorers sailed back home to England around 1614 with a ship filled with Patuxet Indians whom were bound for slavery. They left behind smallpox, wiping out nearly all those who had escaped capture. When the pilgrims ended up arriving in Massachusetts Bay they found just one living Patuxet Indian named Squanto who had survived slavery under the English. He negotiated a treaty between the Wampanoag nation and the pilgrims which would bring mutual peace and protection. Unfortunately word spread in England about the lands they considered to be “public domain” and many began arriving by boat. British settlers began to seize the land and captured some Natives for slaves while killing the rest. However the Pequot Nation hadn’t agreed to the peace treaty Squanto had proposed and they fought back. In 1637 more than 700 men, women and children came together for their annual Green Corn festival, at dawn while the Indians slept, English and Dutch mercenaries ordered them to get up and come out. Those who did were shot and many were burned alive. The next day governor Winthrop of Massachusetts Bay declared “a day of thanksgiving” because to him, the massacre of 700 Indians was their “victory.” After this, many colonists continued to attack villages killing thousands of Indians with many also being sold into slavery. Feasts were held after each successful raid up until George Washington suggested that only one day of Thanksgiving per year be set instead of celebrating each and every massacre. It later became a legal national holiday.

More than 45 million turkeys are killed in the U.S. just for thanksgiving.
Turkeys spend their short lives cramped in horrible conditions where they end up developing diseases. Many have ammonia-burned eyes, respiratory infections, and ulcerated feet. They are bred to grow so fast and large that they become lame due to their own weight and because they’re incapable of moving properly, turkeys are sexually violated to breed them. The males are assaulted for their semen and the females then become artificially inseminated. Turkeys are painfully debeaked and detoed without any anesthetic at birth. At 12-26 weeks, turkeys are crammed into cages to be shipped to slaughter. At the slaughterhouse, they are strung up by their feet and are stunned by an electrical stunner or ran through an electrified water bath so their feathers are removed more easier. They are conscious for this process. They then have their throats cut. Turkeys are intelligent, sensitive, and highly affectionate animals. They will unfortunately never have the chance to live out their lives with their families.

If you do choose to celebrate thanksgiving please take the time to reflect on the suffering of both past and present atrocities. Honor the memory of the American Indians who were violently killed and who had their freedom taken away from them and reclaim thanksgiving by leaving animals off your plate and by informing others about the truth of this holiday.

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:Yore: : The Abyss of Darkness: 

1. Hearing I ask | from the holy races,
From Heimdall’s sons, | both high and low;
Thou wilt, Valfather, | that well I relate
Old tales I remember | of men long ago.

2. I remember yet | the giants of yore,
Who gave me bread | in the days gone by;
Nine worlds I knew, | the nine in the tree
With mighty roots | beneath the mold.

3. Of old was the age | when Ymir lived;
Sea nor cool waves | nor sand there were;
Earth had not been, | nor heaven above,
But a yawning gap, | and grass nowhere.

4. Then Bur’s sons lifted | the level land,
Mithgarth the mighty | there they made;
The sun from the south | warmed the stones of earth,
And green was the ground | with growing leeks.

5. The sun, the sister | of the moon, from the south
Her right hand cast | over heaven’s rim;
No knowledge she had | where her home should be,
The moon knew not | what might was his,
The stars knew not | where their stations were


-Ulvrh

Inside the toxic grave of the longest battle in history: The French forest where 300,000 died in 300 days at the Battle of Verdun is still littered with so many bodies, arsenic and unexploded shells that nothing grows after 100 years

Clean up operation: Retired forest services worker Daniel Gadois walks past German 77mm and 105mm artillery shells which were never fired that he collected and marked in orange paint for later disposal in Bois Azoule forest

Battle scars: They might look like soldiers, but these men are searching for shells which were fired almost a century ago


Memorial: After decades of peace, the forest is a lasting reminder of the damage the First World War did - to lives lost and the landscape

Poisoned: The damage was done by the millions shells filled with arsenic fired during the Battle of Verdun during the First World War

Memories: The land is still pockmarked with the trenches and craters left behind after the fierce fighting

Not forgotten: Crosses, including one with an inscription that reads ‘an unidentifed soldier, died for France 1914-1918’, stand at the cemetery where French soldiers killed in the Battle of Verdun are buried

Discovered: Rusted rifles found in the ground around the French town of Verdun. People have been killed by the bombs left behind after the battle as recently as 2007

Lethal: A bomb being exploded in the forest - during the battle this would have happened hundreds or thousands times a day

Burning: Verdun managed to survive the onslaught, but other places were less lucky

Bodies in a trench at Verdun

Explosive: These are just some of the shells which have been found in the ground around Verdun in the years since

The trenches: This would have been a wood just months before the battle began in February 1916

Secrets of the forest: There are other reminders of the war hidden in the forest, like this German bunker, in an area where they had a hospital, rail connections and a command post during the battle

got separated from your sibling squad??? no problem. form your own sibling squad.

The advent of capitalism created “the economy” as a seperate sphere, disconnected from other aspects of life. In a massive wave of expropriation, millions of peasants were forced off their lands and made to work in factories that were located somewhere other than where they lives, thereby creating the now common distinction between the workplace and the home. The new system created a new form of gender relationships - while it was the men who went to earn the wage, women were supposed to stay in the home, look after the kids and provide the necessary regeneration for the working male so he could turn up for work the next day. 

Of course this gendered allocation was always a more ideological than actually existing one - just as today women still have to flock into the factories by the thousands. As an ideology, however, it was powerful enough to create the binary, heterosexual gender system as we know it today: the world of wage labor required individuals who were rational, calculating, aggressive and competitive. The world of the home needed to be populated by people who would be gentle, managable, emotionally supportive and nurturing.

Nurturing that is necessary to continually reproduce labor power, can not be organized in market relations. Consequently all that can not be expressed in terms of ‘value’ becomes literally 'devalued’ and feminized. 


Some feminists saw the exclusion of women from the “male” sphere of wage labor and commodity exchange as the core problem. Others condemned capitalism as an inherently male project and called for a a revaluing of female emotional labor. Both traditions, while offering important insights into the gendered nature of economic practice, do not challenge the very distinction between 'male’ commodity exchange and 'female’ economies of giving and the persistent hierarchy between the two.


The heterosexual binary is built into the capitalist ecomony to such a degree that it is impossible to overcome without overcoming capitalism itself. The gendered division of labor is not so much an extension of patriarchy into capitalism but rather a genuine product of it. Capitalism creates the modern notion of 'masculine’ and ’ feminine’.

—  Stephanie Grohmann - Queering the Economy. In: Queering Anarchism (2012) 140-145.