#footprint of extraction

[aisling-saoirse]

Colorado River Overlook - May 22nd 2023

[saddayfordemocracy]

Edward Burtynsky, "Extraction/Abstraction"

“I have spent over 40 years bearing witness to the ways in which modern civilization has dramatically transformed our planet. At this time, the awareness of these issues presented by my large format images has never felt more urgent. I hope the exhibition experience will continue to provide inflection points for diverse conversations on these issues and move us all to a place of positive action.”

_Edward Burtynsky

Courtesy: Saatchi Gallery

Saatchi Gallery acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts

[coastalqueerlive]

Art is dead, and AI is dancing on, teabagging, and having an entire affair with its corpse simultaneously.

[dipnots]

The Devastating Impact of Fossil Fuels: Why We Need to Transition to Renewable Energy

Fossil fuels have been the primary source of energy for decades, but their use is causing significant harm to our planet. The burning of fossil fuels, such as coal, oil, and natural gas, is a major contributor to climate change, air pollution, and environmental degradation. In this blog post, we will explore the damage that fossil fuels are causing to the world and why it is important to…

[probablyasocialecologist]

Saito has made a career of teasing out an eco-theory from the late, unpublished writings of Karl Marx. He earned his doctorate at Humboldt University, in Berlin, and now teaches philosophy at the University of Tokyo. His first book was an English version of his dissertation, titled “Karl Marx’s Ecosocialism” (2017), which tracked Marx’s study of the physical world and communal agricultural practices. (Saito is fluent in Japanese, German, and English.) In a second academic book, “Marx in the Anthropocene” (2022), Saito drew on an expanded repertoire of Marx’s unpublished notebooks to argue for a theory of “degrowth communism.” He gained a following, not only in philosophical circles but among a Japanese public facing the contradictions of tsunamis, billionaires, and same-day shipping. “Slow Down” has sold more than half a million copies in Japan and launched Saito into a rare academic celebrity. He appears regularly on Japanese television and aspires to the public-intellectual status of Thomas Piketty, the French economist who had a surprise hit in his 2013 doorstop, “Capital in the Twenty-first Century.”

The key insight, or provocation, of “Slow Down” is to give the lie to we-can-have-it-all green capitalism. Saito highlights the Netherlands Fallacy, named for that country’s illusory attainment of both high living standards and low levels of pollution—a reality achieved by displacing externalities. It’s foolish to believe that “the Global North has solved its environmental problems simply through technological advancements and economic growth,” Saito writes. What the North actually did was off-load the “negative by-products of economic development—resource extraction, waste disposal, and the like” onto the Global South.

If we’re serious about surviving our planetary crisis, Saito argues, then we must abandon capitalism, with its insatiable appetites. We must reject the ever-upward logic of gross domestic product, or G.D.P. (a combination of government spending, imports and exports, investments, and personal consumption). We will not be saved by a “green” economy of electric cars or geo-engineered skies. Slowing down—to a carbon footprint on the level of Europe and the U.S. in the nineteen-seventies—would mean less work and less clutter, he writes. Our kids may not make it, otherwise.

[reasonsforhope]

"In drought-stricken areas, communities facing water shortages, or even in residential and commercial buildings eager to improve their environmental footprints, atmospheric water generators represent a new frontier in water production.

While it might sound like a tidbit from a science fiction movie, even the driest places on earth have moisture in the air that can be extracted and used for everyday necessities like plumbing and drinking. 

Unlike traditional dehumidifiers, which also pull moisture from the air, AWGs utilize filtration and sterilization technology to make water safe to drink. 

And while there are plenty of AWG companies out there — and the science itself isn’t novel — AWGs are becoming more efficient, affordable, and revolutionary in combating water scarcity in a myriad of communities.

Aquaria Technologies, a San Francisco-based AWG startup, was founded in 2022 to help provide affordable and clean drinking water in areas most affected by climate change. 

Using heat exchange and condensation, Aquaria’s generators draw air into their systems, cool that air below its dew point, and as it condenses, capture that water and filter it for consumption. 

As the cycle continues, the generator’s refrigerant vaporizes and goes through a process that cools it back into a liquid, meaning the heat transfer cycle repeats continuously in an energy-efficient and self-sustaining system.

“I’m sure you’ve had the experience in the summer, you take a glass of a cold drink out of the fridge and then water droplets form on the side of the bottle,” Aquaria’s co-founder and CEO Brian Sheng, said in a podcast episode. “That’s actually condensation.”

Sheng continued: “The question is, how do we create condensation? How do we extract water out of the air in large volume and using little energy? That’s what our technology does. We have created both active and passive cooling methods where we use special materials, and we’ve created heat exchange and recovery systems and airflow design, such that we’re maximizing heat exchange, and then we’re able to extract large volumes of water.”

Aquaria has created a number of generators, but its stand-alone model — the Hydropack X — can replace an entire home’s dependence on municipal water, producing as much as 264 gallons of potable water per day. 

Other models, like the Hydrostation, can provide water for up to 1,500 people at parks, construction sites, or other outdoor public areas. The Hydropixel can make 24 gallons of water per day for a seamless at-home application, requiring a simple outlet for power. 

“Atmospheric water generators present a groundbreaking solution to the global challenge of clean water scarcity, leveraging the humidity present in the air to produce potable water,” the company’s website explains.

“This technology is versatile, functioning efficiently across diverse climates — from arid regions to tropical settings. From rural communities in developing countries to advanced cities facing unexpected droughts, atmospheric water generators have a wide range of applications… transforming lives and providing secure, clean water sources.”

Considering an estimated 2.2 billion people lack access to clean water globally — including in American cities like Flint, Michigan, or Modesto, California — innovative solutions like AWGs are vital to maintaining the basic human right to clean water. 

The World Economic Forum has begun to dip its toes into this technology as well, implementing public and private partnerships to introduce AWG units in Arizona’s Navajo Nation, where the machines produce about 200 gallons of clean water per day.

“When combined with an appropriate level of community engagement and triple-bottom-line business (people, planet, profit),” a blog post for WE Forum said, “this model can be a powerful stopgap solution where few exist today.”

Similarly, according to New Atlas, Aquaria has a partnership with developers to supply its technology to a 1,000-home community in Hawaii later this year, relying entirely on atmospherically generated water.

The company also has a “Frontier Access Program,” which partners with water-related NGOs, community project developers, and sustainable development groups to deploy this technology in areas most in need.

Regardless of their use cases — in homes, in communities facing water shortages, or at aid sites navigating natural disasters — AWGs have a minimal environmental impact. Sourcing water “from thin air,” requires no plastic bottles, no large-scale plants using up loads of energy, and no byproducts that can harm the environment."

-via GoodGoodGood, August 27, 2024

[wildechildwrites]

Run, Rabbit

König/Reader

Wordcount: 3.8k

Warnings: 18+, Violence, Injury, Smut, lightly noncon but in the way that you're fighting it but are down, König being insane

No use of Y/N

Summary: You're on a solo mission in Romania, and König goes hunting

A/N: "Oh look another predator/prey coded Konig fic how original" SHUT UP I KNOW

AO3: Run, Rabbit

18+

You’re in the forests of Romania on a solo mission, snooping around an abandoned military base that’s been the location of some suspicious activity, according to your sources. You find the ghost of the for-hire group Kortac in rat-chewed maps and files, faint footprints in layers of dust, but the trail has long gone cold, the building slowly being reclaimed by nature. The trees show no sign of the changes of autumn, but it's in the air, the late summer whisper of a chill in the breeze. You take your time picking your way along the overgrown roads, enjoying the tranquility of the forest. The extraction point is ten clicks west of your position, but you’re content with your steady pace, the sun still high in the sky, shining brightly through the thick foliage, and the hike is an easy one. Your meager findings are carefully folded in your bag of gear, your gun snug on your hip. Ten meters to your right, a red deer raises its head up, watching you warily, before bolting away into the trees. You smile to yourself and raise your face to better feel the sun. 

You hear the crack of the shot and drop, but not quickly enough. Your ears ring, your shoulder burning agonizingly, like someone’s pushing a hot poker against it. You fight against the nausea and pain, willing yourself to move, scrambling into the brush for cover. The shot came from your six, and you grapple for your binoculars, trying to locate the shooter on the hill above you. You recognize the mask first, the bleached tear tracks down an executioner's hood, the hulking form of the figure wearing it unfortunately familiar. König is standing casually, seemingly unafraid of any return of fire, staring down like he can see you through the trees. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle instinctually as he begins to move, a sauntering pace down the hill like the slow lope of a wolf. You drop down again, ignoring the pain in your shoulder as you crawl through the underbrush. 

Nestled low on a hill, large body half buried in the underbrush, König watches you through the scope of his rifle, toying with the idea of killing you. He recognizes you from the files he’s seen on the 141, but there was nothing left at the base for you to find, no reason to draw suspicion and attention back here. You were harmless like this, and magnetic, head tilted towards the sun, your face lit up in a wash of gold light that plays up the color of your hair. His finger brushes lightly across the trigger as he contemplates his options. He rolls his neck loose before glancing through his scope again.

You stop behind a small boulder, pressing your back to it, breathing heavily, and pull your radio off of your hip. “Bravo Six, this is Bravo Seven Four, over.” 

The crackle of the radio is a relief, Price’s voice faint but firm. “Go ahead Bravo Seven Four, over.” 

“Enemies one; direction east of my grid two hundred meters, injury sustained, six clicks out of extraction point, over.” You peek out from behind the rock, but can't see anything, so you continue your crawl, waiting for a response. The birds have stopped singing, a deadly quiet that warns of danger.

“Stay calm Bravo Seven Four–” Price’s voice is cut off by the sound of another bullet whizzing near you. You can’t have your radio giving away your position, and the squad is too far away to reach you before König could. You grab your radio and quickly press the button. 

“Bravo Six, silence, meet at extraction, over.” You turn it off, not waiting for a response, and tuck it back into your belt. Ignoring the growing burning in your shoulder, you move as quickly through the underbrush as you can. You need to cover more ground if you’re going to make it out of here, so you weigh your options, propping yourself into a low crouch, scanning the woods behind you. You can’t see or hear anything. You inhale deeply, then break into a sprint.

The cracking of branches is faint, but König is listening for it, his rifle slung over his shoulder as he searches for you. He immediately changes directions, moving towards the noise and quickening his pace. If you want to run, he’s more than happy to indulge you, relishing the adrenaline of the chase. Your trail is clear, broken branches like a beacon beckoning him closer. He spots blood on one of the low boulders, and swipes it up on his gloved hand, smiling under the mask. 

You're hyper aware of your disadvantage, the sounds of snapping branches as your pursuer draws closer, the sluggish flow of blood down your shoulder from where the bullet grazed you. Your lungs burn, head woozy as you run hard, branches scraping at your form. You risk a look over your shoulder, searching for König behind you, and your heart drops when you miss a step. 

All of a sudden, you're falling, hands stretched out in front of you as you tumble down a steep hill. You hear and feel the snap of your ankle in your boot, a whimpering sob yanked from your chest as you finally land heavily in some thorn covered bushes, branches scratching your body even through the thick fabric of your uniform. You pull yourself out, ignoring the pain as thorns drag against your face, drawing blood, then scan yourself quickly, the prognosis bleak. You can't run, not with what is definitely a broken ankle, and your shoulder is still oozing freely, but you won’t go down without a fight. You drag yourself through the dirt using your good arm, stopping periodically to listen to the sounds of König moving through the trees. Your entire body burns, and you fight against the growing fatigue that’s threatening to overwhelm you, trying to hold onto your quickly waning adrenaline. 

The sound of breaking branches draws nearer. He’s moving faster, heavy footfalls that make your leg muscles twitch with the urge to run. König whistles, high and loud, and you reach for your gun, cocking it as quietly as you can, turning around to face the direction of the noise, crouching low. Your heart pounds in your chest, fear creeping in, the weight of your situation crashing down on you.

“I heard you cry out,” a voice rings through the trees. There's something light in König’s tone, like this has all been a game of tag. “You can't be too far.”

Then the only sound is the breeze, rustling in the leaves. Blood from a cut on your forehead drips into your eye, and you resist the urge to wipe it away, scanning your surroundings as best you can without moving.

The unwelcome feeling of the muzzle of a gun presses against the side of your head, and your body shudders involuntarily. 

“Drop your weapon, Häschen,” König murmurs. You comply immediately, tossing it at his feet, unwilling to argue with a Beretta at your temple. The large man quickly kicks your gun into the bushes. “Sit up,” he commands, and you move slowly, trying not to aggravate your broken bone. 

The small shack hasn’t been used in a while, the table in the center of the room is covered in dust, and spiders have made their home in the corners, spinning silvery streamers that hang down, brushing against his helmet. König places you lightly on the small bed in the corner, stooping over uncomfortably in the low room. Your hair is full of sticks and leaves, your face scraped and bleeding. He needs to look at your shoulder, and the ankle you’d been hovering over protectively, but work comes first. You’ve thrown him off, his fingers tingling where he held you to him, the phantom pressure of your head on his chest as he carried your unconscious body through the woods haunting him even now. He grabs your gear bag, dumping it unceremoniously onto the table, pulling your medkit to the side before rifling through the papers you’d found. The information was outdated, but he shoves the papers into one of the pockets of his pants for disposal later regardless.

You knew he was large, but kneeling at his feet he feels like a goliath, towering over you, the gun held in his grip looking comically small in his giant hands. He holsters it, and you get a stupid, moronic, brilliant idea. In a quick motion, you’ve ripped your radio off of your belt, pressing down on the button and bringing it to your lips. “MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY–” König slams the heel of his palm into the back of your head, and the world goes dark.

He doesn’t bother stripping you properly, just takes his knife and slices it up through the collar of your shirt, baring your shoulder to him. His eyes, unbidden, trace the line of the now exposed column of your throat, and he swallows loudly in the quiet of the room. König draws his attention back to your injury with some difficulty. He barely even grazed you, the puckered wound bleeding sluggishly, and he quietly gloats at his own aim. When he pours alcohol on it, you awaken with a hiss, throwing your arm out hard in his direction reflexively before your brain catches up with you. He deflects you easily, wrapping large fingers around your wrist, enjoying the feeling of the delicate bones, watching with silent smugness as your confusion reads clear on your face. 

“Guten tag,” he says, pleasantly casual, as though you’ve run into him at the grocery store. Your head is pounding, and you’re thrown, trying to grasp your surroundings. Your shoulder is burning, and you’re suddenly aware of the air on your bare skin. You rip your hand out of his grasp, pulling yourself as far away from him on the small bed as you can manage. He tilts his head, studying you. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, your voice hard. 

König gestures with the alcohol he’s holding. “I’m patching up your injuries.” His voice is low, his accent curling around the syllables of his sentences like smoke. 

You blink at him, utterly disarmed. “Why,” you pause, biting your cheek as a wave of pain radiates through your ankle, “Are you patching up my injuries?” 

“Would you prefer it if I left them?” He volleys back lightly, tilting his head. 

You don’t say anything, staring at him with suspicion. He’s got you cornered, quite literally, and there’s no way you can get away from him with your ankle like this unless you can get your hands on a weapon. There’s a knife tucked in your boot, but you can’t exactly pull it out subtly. His beretta is on his hip, his rifle is leaning against the table, but you’d be lying to yourself if you thought you had a chance in hell of reaching either before he could. 

 König takes your silence for compliance and goes back to dabbing your wound with alcohol. You flinch when he places his hand on you, and he makes a dissatisfied noise in the back of his throat. “Such a nervous little rabbit.” The mask conceals his expression from you, but you can hear the frown in his voice. 

“You shot me,” you respond dryly. “Doesn’t exactly foster trust.” 

 “Just a scratch. I could’ve killed you, if I wanted to.” He shrugs, a casual movement that’s unintentionally intimidating, your eyes on the way his shoulder muscles move beneath the layers of clothing he wears. 

You spend your time with large men, the boys of your team all averaging above six feet, but König is just startlingly gigantic. You scan his torso, eyes tracing across the wide planes of his chest, lingering too long to be decent. You catch yourself and drop your gaze down to your hands. “If you don’t want to kill me, what do you want?”

“I want to know what you are doing here.” His tone is still pleasant, but interrogative. His fingers are deliberate, surprisingly gentle as he bandages your shoulder, but there’s an unspoken thread of tension in the air. 

You’re much more docile when he patches up your ankle, an uneasy truce between the two of you. You sit still as he splints it, legs draped almost intimately over his lap, his large fingers curled around your injured leg, gentle pressure holding you steady as he works. He adjusts his hold, squeezing lightly on the meat of your calf, and your breathing stutters. His eyes flick to yours, something dangerous in their expression, and you hold his gaze as you deliberately drag your uninjured leg closer to you, your boot trailing across König's upper thighs intentionally. His eyes slip close at the sensation, just for a moment, and that's when you act, yanking your knife out of your boot and sinking it into his thigh and launching yourself to the floor. He lets out a snarling cry, and you scramble up, your vision going white from the pain of your ankle, but you push through it, sprinting out of the shack. 

“Chasing shadows.” You respond, your voice equally mild. You know he looked through your pack and probably found the papers. You wonder if he thought it was ironic that you came sniffing after KorTac, just to run right into him. You certainly did.

You can't run properly, reduced to a hobble that's made all the more difficult by the fact that you're on uneven terrain in the quickly growing dark. You need to figure out your location and find a way to contact your team, but you’re disoriented and disarmed. You haven’t made it more than a few meters when you hear the sound of the front door slam open. You pick up the pace, trying to put as much distance between you and the very angry Austrian hot on your trail. 

“Häschen,” König’s voice rings through the trees, and a trickle of fear runs through you. You duck behind a tree, pressing yourself against it firmly, trying to blend in with the darkness. 

“Always trying to run away,” he snarls, shoving his body against yours. He thrusts his uninjured thigh between your legs, pinning you further, and you let out an unintentional gasp at the sudden pressure of hard muscle against your core. König instantly pulls away, his eyes shooting down to your ankle with concern, before dragging slowly up your body, his gaze accusatory.  

He can hear you breathing, light and quick, and he doesn’t even try to disguise the heavy sound of his footsteps as he closes in on you. He whips around the tree you’re cowering against, and you try to bolt, but he wraps his fingers around your bicep, yanking you back, slamming his hands above your head, trapping you against the tree. 

“You like this,” he says, and you shake your head desperately. 

“I don’t–” he interrupts any denials you might have, deliberately grinding his thigh in between your legs. You clench your teeth against the noise it draws from your throat. 

He leans impossibly closer, your noses almost brushing through the hood he wears. “Did you like the chase as well?” His voice is a husky rumble, full of heat, and you have to bite back a whine. “I liked the chase.” You realize the hard length against your stomach isn't his Beretta, and an unwanted spike of arousal shoots through you in response.

“You’re insane,” you snap, grappling for some semblance of control over the building pleasure in your core. König pulls away from you abruptly, and you flush at how wet you are, soaking through your underwear. 

“How about a game, Häschen?” his voice has lost its edge, back to the pleasant tone he used in the shack, and your head spins at the sudden change.  “I'll give you five minutes to run or hide, and if you can make it ten minutes without me finding you, I’ll take you to your extraction point myself, safe and sound.”

Your heart races. You don’t trust him, but there's no way you'll get another chance to get away from him. “And if I can’t?” You ask. 

You know you’re fucked, but you scramble through the darkness as quickly as you can, trying to find a good place to hide. If your ankle wasn’t broken, you’d climb a tree, but you’re stuck searching for ground cover, listening with mounting paranoia to the quiet noises of the forest. You’re a celestial body pulled unwillingly into König’s orbit; collision unavoidable.

He says nothing, just purposefully presses his hard cock against your center. Traitorous want flows through you.

You hear him coming, branches breaking as he stalks towards you. You stand as straight as you can, letting him approach you, his eyes bright in the dim of twilight. When he comes within range, you lunge for his gun, almost succeeding in yanking it out of the holster before he grabs you around the waist and pulls you to the ground, pinning you roughly beneath him. 

Even as he manhandles you, you're hyper aware of the delicate way he avoids putting any weight near your injured shoulder. He's got your legs splayed around him, but he's careful, adjusting you just so, keeping your ankle tucked safely away, angled so he won't jostle it. His hips press obscenely against your ass, and you can't help arching your back into him, begging for his cock even as you swear at him.

“Get the fuck off of me,” you spit, and he just laughs, an off-putting, mean sound, before reaching around and ripping open your pants. The button pops off, and the zipper teeth split forcefully apart as he shoves a hand into your underwear. 

“Complain all you want, Häschen, but you're soaked for me,” he coos into your ear, roughly rubbing your clit. You moan at the contact, and he moves his hand lower, pressing his palm against your clit before shoving a finger into your wet center, roughly splitting you open. You gasp at the sudden stretch, König giving you no time to adjust as he pulls his finger out for a moment and plunges it back in, moving in and out at a punishing pace.

“Tell the truth.” He orders, adding a second finger. He curls them, stroking your inner walls, bullying you open until he finds the spot that makes you see stars.  “Say you want me to fuck you.” 

You're beyond words, making a derisive noise that transforms into a whine as you move your hips back, driving König's fingers deeper, your ass rubbing against his clothed erection. All you can focus on is the press of his body against yours, his fingers unspooling you, pulling you apart as he pants along with you. The tension is building, the knot in your stomach tightening as König forces you closer to the edge. 

He pulls his fingers out abruptly, leaving you devastatingly empty and unsatisfied, and you let out an anguished whimper despite yourself. He pushes your pants roughly down around your thighs, and the purr of his zipper opening makes you clench reflexively around nothing. 

He presses right against your entrance, a breath away from splitting you open on his cock. You shove your hips back, trying to fuck yourself onto him, and he pulls back. “Say you want this,” he demands. 

“Fuck. You.” You snarl, even as your thighs tremble. He drags the head of his cock up through your folds, coating himself in your wetness, and you gasp. 

“Such spirit,” he murmurs. In a single motion, he sinks into you, splitting you in open, pulling the air from your lungs. 

He thrusts into you fast and hard, like he wants to tear you open, and it hurts, even with how soaked you are. You cry out, trying to squirm away from the pain. His fingers find your clit again, his breath hot in your ear. He dwarfs you, your legs shaking from pleasure and the weight of him on top of you, pressing you into the dirt. 

“You wanted this.” His voice is a panting snarl, his talented fingers stealing your senses as he forces you closer to your orgasm. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the forest air as he pounds into you without mercy. “Say it.” 

“I want this,” you whimper. You feel the shocking whisper of his lips against the junction of your neck and shoulder and realize with a start that means he’s not wearing his hood. All thoughts are shoved out of your head as he sinks his teeth into your skin, and you wail as you snap, the sensation dragging you over the edge, your body trembling as you cum. His thrusts become sloppy, his cock twitching inside you as he shoves his hips against yours, filling you up. He stays like that, flush against you, as his dick softens, keeping you full and trapped under him. 

You lay in the dirt panting, hollowed out and raw. There are pine needles prickling against your skin, soreness awakening in your limbs as you come back to yourself. König climbs off of you, still cognizant of your injuries, and pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you like a lover, the brutality melting into tenderness like watercolor. His hood is back in place, and the world comes crashing down around you as your senses return, the weight of your actions pulling you down as regret and shame bubble under your skin. 

The walk to the extraction point is silent. König holds you cradled against his chest; your hand fisted in the front of the vest he wears. His thigh burns, his entire body consumed with exhaustion, but he clenches his jaw against the pain, focusing instead on your face, turnt up towards him, open and vulnerable, eyes rimmed with red. If he was a better man, he'd be sorry. 

König notices your eyes glazing over, the warble of your chin, and reaches up a large hand to cradle your face, wiping away tears you didn't realize were threatening to fall. “Hush bunny, you did so well,” he croons down at you, his saccharine actions thrown in high relief against how violently he handled you before. “Such a good girl for me.”

He sets you down gently on a large rock, and pulls your knife out of a hidden pocket, his hand raised in a placating gesture as he slowly places it beside you. It’s still got his blood on it, dried to rust on the tip. You don’t reach for it, pulling your uninjured leg up and wrapping your arms around yourself. You look even smaller than you did before. 

He straightens his spine against the odd sensation in his chest. “Tell your captain to keep a closer eye on his men,” He orders, then reaches out a hand, hovering just above your cheek bone. Neither of you bridge the gap.  

You watch him disappear into the trees, the shadows swallowing him whole, the sound of a helicopter in the distance.

[stupittmoran]

This is a Tesla model Y battery. It takes up all of the space under the passenger compartment of the car. To manufacture it you need:

--12 tons of rock for Lithium (can also be extracted from sea water) -- 5 tons of cobalt minerals (Most cobalt is made as a byproduct of processing copper and nickel ores. It is the most difficult and expensive material to obtain for a battery.) -- 3 tons nickel ore -- 12 tons of copper ore You must move 250 tons of soil to obtain: -- 26.5 pounds of Lithium -- 30 pounds of nickel -- 48.5 pounds of manganese -- 15 pounds of cobalt

To manufacture the battery also requires: -- 441 pounds of aluminum, steel and/or plastic -- 112 pounds of graphite

The Caterpillar 994A is used to move the earth to obtain the minerals needed for this battery. The Caterpillar consumes 264 gallons of diesel in 12 hours.

The bulk of necessary minerals for manufacturing the batteries come from China or Africa. Much of the labor in Africa is done by children. When you buy an electric car, China profits most.

The 2021 Tesla Model Y OEM battery (the cheapest Tesla battery) is currently for sale on the Internet for $4,999 not including shipping or installation. The battery weighs 1,000 pounds (you can imagine the shipping cost). The cost of Tesla batteries are: Model 3 -- $14,000+ (Car MSRP $38,990) Model Y -- $5,000–$5,500 (Car MSRP $47,740) Model S -- $13,000–$20,000 (Car MSRP $74,990) Model X -- $13,000+ (Car MSRP $79,990)

It takes 7 years for an electric car to reach net-zero CO2. The life expectancy of the battery is 10 years (average). Only in the last 3 years do you start to reduce your carbon footprint, but then the batteries must be replaced and you lose all gains made.

And finally, my new friend, Michael, made some excellent points: I forgot to mention the amount of energy required to process the raw materials and the amount of energy used to haul these batteries to the U.S. sometimes back and forth a couple of times.

But by all means, get an electric car. Just don't sell me on how awesome you are for the environment. Or for human rights.

Credit: @Hanna Roth

[96z]

this is the last thing i'll say but honestly, to me this situation is just another glaring example of how hybe's greed has poisoned the entire kpop industry. like, seriously, the way they’re running things is insane and it’s honestly destroying what once made kpop special.

hybe's unchecked dominance has become a poison in the industry. they’ve not only swallowed up smaller companies but have also monopolized platforms and resources, leaving a massive footprint that stifles diversity and creativity. remember when kpop felt like this vibrant, diverse world full of different sounds and styles? now it’s just a hybe-centric machine, churning out cookie-cutter idols and soulless hits, all for the sake of squeezing every last cent from fans.

it’s not just about the music anymore—it’s about the bottom line. and hybe’s obsession with profit has shifted the focus entirely. their approach seems to be about creating a product rather than nurturing genuine talent, and it’s showing. we’ve got groups and artists who are more brand assets than actual musicians, and the whole industry is losing its soul.

and let’s talk about their grasping at every single opportunity to make money. it's overcharging for albums, it's the insanely priced concert tickets, hybe has set a new standard for squeezing fans dry. it’s not just about supporting your favorite artists anymore; it’s about participating in a system designed to extract as much as possible.

the rise of hybe has shifted the entire narrative of k-pop. we used to see variety and innovation, but now it’s all about the same glossy, over-polished products with no room for real experimentation. it’s like they’ve drained the life out of the industry, leaving us with this homogenized, corporate-driven shell of what kpop used to be.

when i'm talking about how kpop isn’t the same, it’s not just nostalgia talking. it’s about how a single company’s greed has changed the entire landscape. and honestly, it’s a shame. we’ve watched as the heart and soul of kpop has been slowly eroded by hybe’s relentless pursuit of power and money.

and let’s not forget the utter lack of accountability for idols, especially the biggest names in hybe’s roster. it’s almost as if these idols are untouchable, the way their fans clear searches, flood the socials with ‘__ we love you’ and ‘apologize to __’ posts is maddening. why are these grown adults are allowed to hide behind their fanbase and evade any real responsibility?

it’s a disturbing trend where serious issues are brushed aside because the fans are doing the dirty work of cleaning up their mess. idols can act without consequences, knowing that their fanbase, and if not their fanbase, their company will do everything in their power to shield them from backlash. the lack of accountability is staggering—these idols can get away with anything because their fanbase’s loyalty means they never face the repercussions of their actions.

at the end of the day... it’s okay to criticize and question the things we love. because if we don’t, we’re just letting this monster ruin everything we cherish.

[persimmonthusiast]

Cabin-in-a-Bag Tent from Outdoor Retreat | 4t2 conversion I've wanted this tent for so long! but I think no one converted it so far? So I did it, with a bit of help from @littlelittlesimmies who kindly extracted the resources for me It ended up being a mini-set of 3 objects:

Cabin-in-a-Bag tent A functional, fully animated tent sitting on 4x4 tiles. It can only accomodate 2 sims like Maxis' BV tent, but has better comfort and sleep stats. §1070 | Comfort - Misc

Decorative Canopy Repo'd to the functional tent §300 | Decorative - sculptures

Decorative Tent Sims can access the inside and will not walk through the walls. Repo'd to the functional tent §650 | Decorative - sculptures

Comes in the 7 original recolors **DOWNLOAD (SFS)**

This is definitely one of the most complex projects I've worked on so far, and not having to create the mesh and textures from scratch I could focus on other more advanced aspects of object editing. I learned a lot of new SimPE skills in the process!

Thanks in particular to @crispsandkerosene and @blueheavensims for the tutorial on editing object footprint. I also figured out how to properly change motive settings thanks to this explanation by rebecah. I was actually shocked to discover that editing catalog ratings does not have any effect on gameplay... I somehow never checked in game before :')

[lulublack90]

Prompt 20 - Skiing

@wolfstarmicrofic December 20, word count 386

“Alright, Prongs, let her rip!” Sirius yelled excitedly as he grasped the end of the rope he’d tied to James’s Cleansweep and made sure the sticking charm he’d cast on his shoes to attach them to the skis he’d found at the back of the cupboard in Filch’s office last week and had been waiting for it to snow so he could try out broom skiing; a sport of his own invention. He bent his knees and he was off. 

The skis cut through the banks of snow as James picked up a bit of speed. “WOOHOO!!!!” He screamed as James flew closer to the forbidden forest. “YES, PRONGS, FASTER, FASTER!!!!” This was such a thrill. 

James turned his broom as they approached the tree line, and Sirius leaned with him, changing the direction of the skis towards the black lake. 

They’d nearly finished their lap. He could see McGonagall waving her arms at him through her office window on the seventh floor. He took a hand off the rope and blew her a kiss. He turned his head forward again and saw he was at the wrong angle. “REMUS, MOVE!!!! He squealed, letting go of the rope and trying to stop himself, but it was too late, he was going too fast. 

He crashed right into Remus, knocking the other boy off his feet in a flurry of snow and skis. “Shit, Remus, are you alright?” He gasped as he extracted his limbs from around Remus and tried to help him to his feet. Remus narrowed his eyes at him and got to his feet without Sirius’s help. He brushed the snow off his cloak.

“Show off,” Remus spat and stormed back up to the castle, limping slightly. 

Sirius let out a sigh. He’d hoped showing off in front of Remus might impress him enough that when he asked him to go to Hogsmeade with him on a date, he might say yes. It was not looking good. This was the last time he listened to James. He’d been trying for years to get Evans to pay attention to him with stupid stunts like this. That’s when it hit him. He slapped his palm to his forehead. He’d been so stupid. All he needed to win Remus over was chocolate. 

He wrenched the broken skis from his feet and followed Remus’s footprints back into the castle, making a pitstop by the kitchens before he hurried after Remus so he could apologise properly and ask him out. He had a really good feeling about this plan. 

[alienssstufff]

MISSING PERSONS ARTICLE (5/10/ NULL):

An extract from a local article published by The Weekly Hermit on the 5th of October (Year: NULL). Covered by Pixlriffs [Pen Name] –DISAPPEARING ACT, The Bachelor Who Vanished In Thin Air

[MEMORY : 1/2 ] [MEMORY : 2/2 - HERE]

>[READ ARTICLE?]

They were young and unafraid, Joel [LASTNAME] alongside friend Scar [LASTNAME] would venture on a hiking trip around the mountains only to vanish without a trace.

With the Joel engaged and set to be married to the current head of the Fairy Fort Resort ranger Lizzie [LASTNAME], accounts state that him along with best man Scar were last seen on the 22nd of September in the safety of Hiker’s Checkpoint, a popular camping destination of the Last Life woodlands.

“He said it was supposed to be an ‘act of bravery’. He wanted to prove he was strong to me.” A distraught Lizzie recounts. 

“I knew Scar was acting rather off the last few weeks, but I never expected he would just.. Up and run away like this. Especially with someone as inexperienced to hiking as Joel – I didn’t think they would go this far!” witness and former roommate of Scar, Grian, relays to the press.

Further interviews with the witnesses on the day of the disappearance recount in agreeance to meet the two at the Fairy Fort Reserve, a small group had held an early-morning farewell bachelor party at the Hiker’s Checkpoint, where the two would begin their 3-day trip along the marked Mycelium Trail to the wedding venue on the 25th of October.

Joel was last seen wearing a thick brown sheepskin sweater, brown pants, and worn white-and-green running shoes - with his most noticeable feature being green, dyed highlights in his hair. Scar was last seen donning a brown aviator's jacket above a black, multi-purpose utility jacket and white plaid flannel with blue cargo pants - most noticeable feature being the green bandanna found at the checkpoint.

Prior background given by loved ones and witnesses of the party reveal that the wellbeing of Joel, a novice hiker, would still be under the guidance of friend Scar who is reported to have years of experience of hiking both within and beyond the hiking trails of the woodlands. 

Reports to the authorities of their disappearance were made just 24-hours past the expected date by the Fairy Fort Reserve and the duo would be officially declared missing on the 28th of September. Several smaller search parties made within the FFR, Lizzie admits, were held prior to making the decision on contact around the reserve and the Hiker’s Checkpoint. A larger, more extensive investigation along the Mycelium Trail was held from the 28th onwards as more people volunteered and potential witnesses were questioned.

The Mycelium Trail is a relatively accessible route for both man and off-road vehicles to traverse between various locations in the Last Life woodlands. While recordings of the weather at this time of year had been colder than usual, there had been no signs of snow, rainfall or forest fires that would hinder the mens’ trip. 

A total of 78 individuals have participated in the search for our runaway bachelor and avid adventure-lover with little succession as damp footprints of the missing, Scar’s green bandanna,  a set of binoculars belonging to Scar, and two discarded lighters and canteens found within the bounds of the Hiker’s Checkpoint. 

Suspect of foul play between the men were brought up in questioning but was avidly rejected by witnesses and investigators for lack of motive even considering Grian’s accounts on Scar’s unusual behavior. Further theories relating to mentions of exploring the nearby Magical Mt were also suspect and a smaller search party made closer to the foot of the mountain was conducted to no avail due to the frigid weather. Urgencies from Lizzie to authorities in further investigation within the mountain were set forth and ultimately rejected due to windy weather and unstable, difficult-to-cross terrain.

As of current release, the status of Joel and Scar remains unknown. For information leading to the safe return of Joel [LASTNAME] and Scar [LASTNAME] please contact [NUMBER REMOVED] at the Fairy Fort Reserve investigation team.

>[ARTICLE ENDS HERE]

[boxturret]

George's 1/10th scale Mata Nui Tour

This is a follow up to my previous post about a piece of concept art that depicts the island of Mata Nui as being 1/10th size it is officially listed as in most later maps.

I must first say that I was blown away with the positive reception that post received! I did see some concern that it was now too small, but I believe that's mainly down to how absolutely MASSIVE the final size is. A 90% reduction in size by no means makes Mata Nui small.

But I know not everyone has spent as much time obsessing over the size of Mata Nui as I have, so I decided to enlist everyone's favourite Ta-Koronan George to help illustrate how large this "small" Mata Nui really is.

I scaled the image of Mata Nui so that it matches the measurements on the side, so it is roughly 35km long and 17km wide. I also made a simple height map to get the Mangai volcano the appropriate 2km high.

I started out with just some simple pegs at the locations of the villages to first illustrate the basic distances.

George here starts out at the location of the iconic beach from MNOG and the end of QFTT

The beach is actually shockingly equidistant from most of the villages, Ta-Koro is closest at 2km, Ga-Koro is second closest at 6km, but the other 4 are all between 11 and 13km from the beach!

Here's a little animation to show the size of the pins, they're by no means small.

They had to be this big to be visible at all, which just goes to show how large the island still is even at 1/10th scale.

I did several shots of George standing on the edge of the Mangai's caldera. I extracted the villages from Bionicle the Legend of Mata Nui and scaled them accordingly, placing each of them where the village should be. See if you can spot them!

From the top of Mangai its 20km to the tiny islands at the very tip of Po-Wahi.

And 13km to the end of the chain of islands in southern Le-Wahi

The view of the Mangai volcano is quite impressive from the villages too. Even at this 2km height its still around 2/3rds the height of Mt Fuji or half the height of Mt Kilimanjaro.

My heightmap could use more work, the Ihu mountain range isn't really apparent, I was mainly focused on getting the Mangai at the right height.

Here's what it would look like if Onu-Koro wasn't underground.

I hope these visuals helped to show the size of the 1/10th scale Mata Nui. I really do feel it is more in line with what we see from most media and fits well with the story.

Even with this size there's one thing to remember: Raw size isn't everything. Terrain matters a lot. Its easy enough for someone now to walk a kilometre or two over straight paved roads, but considering that Mata Nui is a lush volcanic island, half the place is covered in a jungle full of massive trees and swamps, much of it is very hilly and steep, this isn't an easy place to get around in.

I'll leave you with two things: first is an old animation I made of a zoom out from Tahu on top of the full final scale Mata Nui:

This is the most I can really do with an island that scale, blender doesn't appreciate having a view distance in the hundreds of kilometres while also rendering something human scaled.

Second is a comparison between the island I've just shown you overlaid on top of the full scale.

The whole island itself has a footprint roughly the same as the full scale Mangai volcano!

Hope you all enjoyed George's vacation photos. Good night and/or happy May :^)

Slight addendum: A while ago I made this little sketch of what a view from the top of Ihu might look like, looking at all the regions. Just wanted to include it. good night

[superm4ks]

I refuse to believe max would make such a big mistake Im so scared

.. umm . Wid respect. What are u scared of

Ur a fan right?

Max isn’t stupid. Max didn’t get to where he is today, changing setups throughout gp weekends just so he can extract another extra tenth of a car that, funnily enough, already hands him victories on a platter, as if its given a fucking choice. Max doesn’t make mistakes. Max is relentless. honed to perfection, as a driver and as a competitor, since he was 3 years old. Max has no dreams. Max has objectives, because objectives are doable. If he has, in his own words, ‘become his own adversary’, that means hes broken all the records set before him. It means he’s officially surpassed all the machines required of him and now he’s effectively just racing himself. Why? Peace. Max wants peace because dreams were pesky, beautiful things and cost too much for a kid wid his dads wallet. He couldn’t afford dreams so he became a soldier. I do not think there’s a person alive capable of standing between him and the peace he so desperately wants.

Purely from an objective pov, it wud make no sense for triple wdc champ to entertain a catty desperate offer from a struggling team wid a less exciting car, in unfamiliar territory and a mouthy , pure bred English for a teammate that is perhaps not willing to instantly roll over and let the front become as sharp as a knifes edge. But George is of little consequence and his job won’t be to challenge Max because he won’t be able to. Verstappen won’t go to Mercedes to concern himself wid George Russell and George Russell’s ambitions and insecurities and all he still has to prove to himself and others. Max is past that. Max goes to Mercedes not because he needs Mercedes to win but because mercedes need him to fill the shoes of a man whose very footprint denied Max his peace for a very long time. Huge, unbearable shoes that never fit anybody and they won’t have to fit Max either because he’ll bring his own. He’ll leave ((Bennetton)) rbr wid a handful of his engineers, his mechanics, his ethics, his team culture, because saying yes to ((Ferrari)) Mercedes and finally picking up that call won’t be a dream come true, or a childhood fantasy, or a strike from destiny, it’ll be a job to get done. Max has no dreams. No one ever taught Max how to dream. They taught him to win, and that mistakes cost more than losing. They cost him peace. And love. Max is 26 years old and a top 5 competitor in the history of the sport if he sues rbr for peace I’ll look away politely. I’ll even smile. Don’t be scared . There’s only one version of this story

[victoria-grimesss]

tear you apart - part VI

masterlist

->Pairing: König x fem!reader

->Words: 2.8k

->Warning: probably wrong military terms/methods, hurt, angst, mention of wounds, blood, fluff at the end.

->A/N: L/N = last name, also I depict König as an older guy, he takes off his mask in this part so feel free to imagine him differently if my description is not what you want. :)

You double and triple check your ammo, ensuring and memorizing just how much you have, knives strapped to you, your usual gear as well.

The chopper is pumping with adrenaline, you could feel it in the air like electric shocks. 

You sit across from König, he's clad in all his gear and is talking with the captain about routes.

You’ve chatted with some of the others on the ride over and you learned they’re also highly experienced.

“You ready? Think you can keep up?” 

Another soldier teases you and you laugh nudging him with your shoulder as you go over the plan again.

We drop on the northeast of enemy territory.

König splits the team in two for the two buildings to search.

You and the captain lead a stealth operation on the first building that is supposed to have the hard drives in it.

König and the others will enter the other building and make a distraction, deter the enemies from your building to give you ample time to extract the data.

You’re not nervous, not one bit. But your eyes drift to König and he gives you a wink before returning to the captain. 

Your only worry is losing him and that scares the hell out of you.

Never had you had someone on your shoulder, gnawing at the back of your head. Someone you love so much you would die for them.

You’re scared to lose König, but he’s a strong guy. One bullet couldn't bring him down, the scars on his chest prove that.

König stands, the red overhead light paints him like a God, built like one and ready to tear down whatever comes in his way.

“We are approaching the drop point, we will exit northeast and make our way toward enemy lines. I expect all of you to follow the directions given and follow either mine or the captain's orders when directed, do I make myself clear.”

A resounding yes sir echoes the body of the cabin.

“You will radio if anything changes or if you need assistance, we enter this as a team and we leave as one too.”

König looks at you as he speaks to the room but he wants to make sure you hear every word he says.

“These people will not hesitate to kill you or capture you, their torture methods are not pleasant so shoot to kill.”

We approach the ground and your heart races, like before a big test. 

The group exits quickly as soon as we land and the chopper takes off to avoid fire or drawing attention to the group.

“Will the enemy group know of our arrival?” Someone asks the captain as they readjust their straps.

“No. They have a supply drop in the area and at the same time they won’t think anything.”

You all trudge along, König at the front you close behind and the others behind you with the captain at the back.

König seems like he carries the world on his shoulders on the field and he kinda does. 

He has a large gun in his arms with a sniper on his back, full gear makes him look otherworldly and broad as all hell. 

His head is on a swivel and you scan the surroundings, the sunset casting dark shadows across the landscape and you think of the last time you and König were together when the sun was setting. 

Dust kicks up behind the group and long sets of footprints scatter the ground. 

It’s only the sound of boots on the ground, carabiners catching on metal, and gloves readjusting on guns. 

The walk is lengthy and you keep up next to König’s paces, the group keeps close and you all keep a lookout. 

We’ll go back to my place after this promise.

You made him promise you something, to help your morale you said, he had laughed. 

“We’re approaching the split point, everyone stay on their tasks and we’ll be back to the evac in no time.”

You and König exchange a nod and you stay back to stick with your captain and your smaller group.

The dirt road splits, a lightning struck tree split down the middle is your marker and the two groups split. König’s back is to you and your heart aches the slightest before turning back and returning to your group

Go in quietly and get out. 

You round the first corner of the building, heavy tree cover aiding you nicely. 

Cold shadows move around you and you keep looking out.

“L/N, enter the upstairs window and move down the hall, take out who you can. We’ll sweep over the bottom floor and move upwards, most combatants will be downstairs.”

Your captain boosts you up to the side railing and you scale it and enter through the window, entering a dusty supply closet. The dust and spores are visible in the air.

“L/N, have you entered the building?”  

Your captain questions.

“Affirmative, exiting the closet and beginning a sweep. Will move left down the hall.”

You reply, you stay low, bringing a silenced pistol out and opening the door.

You encounter the first couple enemies and you take them out silently, you hear the coms spark to life again, König’s team has breached the building and the commotion from there stirs this building to life.

You hear the enemies roaring to life talking about an ambush and you move a little bit faster.

“L/N, have you breached the room yet?”

“I’m approaching, standby.”

The hallway is dimly lit, dusty, and heavily rundown. 

You open the door and the room is expansive and large crates block the room's view.

“Breached the room, searching for the computer towers.”

“Copy, stay alert L/N firefight sounds heavy on the other side.”

For a brief moment you wonder if König is okay. Heavy firefight but he’s capable.

You make your way to the tower and dig the USB out of your chest pocket.

��Room is empty, no sight of activity lately.”

You hear a response from your captain and you listen quietly to König’s team's chatter. 

They take down enemies quickly, König reporting a majority of the kills. 

“USB, inserted. Hacking through the firewall and transferring the files.”

You don’t hear any response.

It’s quiet.

Then the room shakes and you hear a bang, then a flash.

“Shit.”

You move behind a crate but still close enough to the computer to see the progress.

The coms crack

“L/N, copy?- Get out, ambu- large scale, -bad intel.”

Your captain's voice is choppy but you get the idea, bad intel and an ambush great, a taste of what you’re supposed to be giving the enemy.

You cough as the smoke clears the room and you drop lower, the coms are frequent with reports about where the ambush came from the who might have tipped them off. 

Rapid gunfire is heard everywhere, you hear the team downstairs firing and the comms indicate the same in the other building.

You fire at the silhouettes that enter through the door you entered, they wear gear you’ve never seen.

You duck again as fire rains over you and you can’t forget about the USB, the whole reason you’re there.

“Fuck, fuck fuck.” You're frustrated but not discouraged. 

You fire blindly back and you hear your captain call for rapid evac, inform HQ of the ambush and support is needed.

“L/N I need you out of that building.”

“Copy Colonel.”

It’s König and his tone is demanding, harsh.

“Evac out of the buildings now, we’re shooting our way out of this.”

You try to move from your current position to retrieve the USB but you’re nearly grazed by a bullet and move back into position.

“Requesting backup at my position, I’m under heavy fire. Whatever they have in these files it’s important and they don’t want us leaving with them.”

“Copy L/N, trying to move upstairs but heavy fire down here is deterring, try to get out any way possible.”

Your captain speaks, his voice strained.

The intel you received was right about one thing. This is the info you’re after but the enemy targets know damn well they're not going to let your team leave with it. The one thing no-one knew was that the targets were requesting more troops to their area and today, actually right now, is when they arrived. 

The night offered good cover to your team, you could slip away into the trees with the data and leave. 

Moonlight now streams through the boarded windows behind you, it’s so dark and you move, quickly retrieving the USB just as someone shoots the computer and it grazes your arm, leaving an angry red gash, sparks from the computer fly everywhere, some rain onto you like a mist.

You manage to shoot a few combatants and you rain fire upon them and book it across the room aiming towards the side room which leads to a stairwell and backdoor.

You’re inches from the door when someone rams into you from the side knocking you back, the air is dislodged from you and you scramble to gain the upperhand.

It’s a larger man on-top of you, eyes narrow and eyebrows furrowed.

“L/N, do you copy?”

König doesn't sound patient.

L/N, do you copy?!”

He’s frantic now as the man above you gains the upper hand and wraps his hands around your throat. You reach for your knife and stab him in the thigh, he falters and you’re able to get a hit in to his cheekbone. 

You crawl to your gun that had slipped from your grasp but the man gains his strength back and pulls you by your leg away from the gun.

“Can you just fuck off?!”

You yell at him, you kick him in the stomach but he straddles you again, wrapping his hands heavily around your throat, König is yelling for you in the coms, he demands a response from you.

—

His gun is putting down enemies faster than ever, he tears through people with the ease of tissue paper.

Dust flies through the air with the way the bodies hit the ground.

“We move to that building now, get over there now!”

He demands and they're rounding the building, the door to the back is barricaded from the inside and he kicks it right in the center of the double doors and it flies open with ease. 

He’s laser focused and his mind is only on finding you. 

For someone so big his steps are quiet, he rushes through the building dropping enemies like they're nothing.

The stairs in the back creak under his and the other members feet, they scale them quickly and he slams the door open.

The team guns down all the enemies and he sees you in the back of the room, his eyes are locked onto the man above you and he’s felt no rage as hot and acidic like this.

He would love to tie this man to a chair and make him wish for death each day.

His hands grasp the man's neck and he tears him off of you and you gasp for air, regaining your composure.

The man's eyes go wide at the sight of him, like many do.

König grips his neck and leg as he raises him above him, he drops him hard onto his knee and the sound of the man's spine breaking cleanly is heard in the room.

König is on you next, he holds you so close you think your spine might break too.

One hand is in your hair, he smells it deeply and you can hear how his breathing shakes.

“I’m okay.”

“I know, I know liebling.”

He helps you up, you and the rest of the team make your sweep through the rest of the building taking out whomever is left. König has the most precision you’ve ever seen, his marks never miss and he keeps you close to him.

König and the captain meet up and your team takes a moment to call for evac, one of the other members took a bullet in the process and you help him wrap it and you take that time to wrap your arm as well. König watches you carefully, he cursed himself for letting you get hurt as you did, whoever gave the intel is going to hear from him, none of the words he will share with them will be kind. 

Your team moves through the woods quietly, the creatures of the night stirring with your movements. Moonlight is your guide and the chopper lands down on a fire burnt hilltop where you finally get to leave.

—

The ride back is silent, it always is. No-one was expecting such a firefight but there were no casualties on your side and for that you are all thankful.

The captain applauds everyone's works, you hand over the flashdrive to König for safe keeping, he’ll send it over to the intelligence department once you all get back to decrypt the text. But for now you are resting your head on his shoulder and he’s content you can find sleep. 

—

When you are back to base you deflate in the medical unit, you let them check you over and they clean your graze wound. You wince a bit but you’re just happy to feel the pain, that was a close call but the way König fought ignites a weird primal part of you that loves that he protected you so.

König told you he had to speak with someone when you got back, he left you with a light push towards the medical wing and now that you’re done you just want to get the grime off your skin and sleep.

His room smells like a mixture of the two of you now. His cologne and your shampoo in his bed make you drowsy but you strip off your gear, setting it on the dresser and slowly strip in the bathroom. You look over the bruises and the wrapping on your arm, the water is hot when you enter and it eases your muscles.

“Liebling?”

“In the shower my love.”

Your heart flutters with him being nearby. He entered the bathroom after shedding all his heavy gear.

“I’ll only be a little longer then the shower is all yours all-right?” 

“I was thinking we can shower together.”

“With your hood on? Won’t it get all soggy?” 

You giggle at the thought of him naked except for his hood which is dripping wet and I would assume that would feel like being waterboarded.

“I will join you without it.”

You hear beats faster.

“König- you don’t have to. I mean if you're not ready.”

“I could not be more prepared. I almost lost you today and I want to share my whole being with you, if you would let me.”

“Of course.” 

You smile sweetly and you watch in the fogged glass of the shower door as he discards his clothes, his skin becoming more visible. His hood is last and you see a blurred version of him.

The shower door opens and he steps in, he hangs his head to get under the water, you step aside and admire him.

The way his short hair blends into his stubble, the eye paint bleeds down his face from the steam now. His lashes are dotted with water droplets and in here his eyes are ever bluer. His nose is sharp, broken and healed again so it’s slightly askew. A scar traces from his eyebrow into his hairline, another one kisses the top of his lip. He has lines on the outer corner of his eyes, and his forehead is scattered with a few as well. A marker of his life lived. 

Your eyes draw down and look him over completely as a whole now. 

“You’re gorgeous König.” 

You breathe it and your hands place themselves at his abdomen before drawing up to his shoulders then bringing his head down to yours, you kiss slowly under the water.

“Thank you liebling, I- I am happy to be able to share all of you with me. It is like a weight being lifted off my shoulders.”

He kisses you softly and you smile, you shower together slowly.

He shampoos your hair and you do his, he has to lean down quite a bit and you laugh telling him you’ll need a shower stool if you are both to continue showing together.

You wash each other's bodies and take care in washing the gunpowder and using gentle hands over the blooming new bruises. 

He kisses your neck where the assailant left his mark, he holds you sweetly with the same hands he used to kill that man. 

Your fingers are pruney when you both leave the shower and stand side by side brushing your teeth, the view in the mirror being something you both want to see for a long long time. 

—

Tag List: @theredviolets , @saint-chlorine , @cndy-l0v3 

[playmiya]

chapter eight: i just get so passionate about feminism previous ⎯ masterlist ⎯ next

You're peering over the edge of a railing on the roof of your rendezvous point, watching people mill about like specs of colour when you hear the familiar whoosh of wind that signals the arrival of Tokyo's arachnid saviour.

"Spider-Man," you speak, and he shoots you a timid wave. "Vigilante."

This time, you study him even more intensely than before, trying to gauge his height and cross-check with the Reddit post. You struggle to find any identifying markers, since his suit's practically stretched taut against his body, red and blue appearing glossy in the moonlight.

He'd always been cautious, even at your last two meetings when you'd been brainstorming ways to flush out the serial arsonist that had recently hit another shopping complex in Ginza. Constantly standing a couple of feet away from you, speaking in a thick dialect that sounded like a cross between Tokyo and another district you couldn't quite put your finger on. If it weren't for your doomscrolling through forums piecing together a digital footprint, and the lifesaver of a Reddit post, you'd be hitting your head against a wall right now.

Instead, you play nice.

"Did the police manage to salvage the footage?", you ask, leaning on the edge of the cool metal bars as he surveys you from a distance, scanning the perimeter not very subtly.

"They're tryin' to. I know we agreed to me handling the cops, but d'ya think you could run by the Ginza scene around 10 in the morning to get the footage? I got this unmissable appointment around then."

Unmissable appointment. That could be anything: a birthday party, a doctor's visit, or a training session.

You cringe inwardly at a run-in with the police, again, and that too during your Behavioural Econ class. Still, Spider-Man sounds sincere enough, and you suppose he's been doing most of the public lifting in this op anyways, so a quick visit to the crime scene should be the least you can do.

You sigh, relenting. "Fine."

You can hear the relief in his tone. "Thanks. I owe ya."

"I'll hold you to it," you grumble under your breath, and then, remembering a hunch that'd hit you like a brainwave while studying all three crime scenes in Shinjuku, Ginza and Minato, you add:

"Can we get a list of all the shops that'd been hit in these three places? I think it's time we begin making a suspect list."

"Sure," Spider-Man replies, shrugging. "I can get that info off the net and I'll bring it to ya. Same time tomorrow?", he asks, and you nod, unsatisfied and frustrated with how little personal information you've been able to extract from this meeting.

"Cool. See ya," he declares, flicking his wrist in the direction of the building behind you and whooshing past the railing in one swift motion. You watch him, swinging across the skyline of shiny glass and lights, until he becomes a tiny blob of blue and red, heading towards the curved roof Ariake Arena.

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