#land clearing operation

[taevisionceo]

TAEVision 3D Mechanical Design Machinery Construction Mining Bulldozer / Dozer Land Clearing Operation in an Open-Pit Mining ▸ TAEVision Engineering on Pinterest ▸ TAEVision Engineering on Google Photos

Data 044 - Jun 22, 2023

[corbinite]

Ecofascism is "environmentalism" through the lens of blood and soil. It's about the "purity" of what you put in your body, of the people who own a land, and of the land itself. It's about not wanting to be "tainted" by "savagery" (note this is not nonviolence even if it tries to look like nonviolence). It's about land Belonging to white people and white people being entitled to a version of stewardship through dominance and blood ties. And at its core it's about ownership over nature and over the people who are degraded to be seen as less human and therefore "ownable". That's why ecofascists treat marginalized people as if they were invasive species.

Veganism is about nonviolence. That's it. It takes many forms but it is inherently about nonviolence and a REJECTION of ideas about any hierarchical nature of humanity or the earth. Veganism is not eating plant based because it's more "pure" or "wholesome" or even because it's less environmentally impactful on average. It's just a commitment to nonviolence.

How many of you claiming that veganism is ecofascism can actually list off the traits of ecofascism? Was my first paragraph the first time you've actually seen the word defined instead of just being used as a vague "veganism is colonialism because of [insert whichever factoid you wanna play telephone with this time]"? Was it the first time you heard an explanation of what it was past "well the maga shaman guy didn't eat meat so you connect the dots"? (which wasn't even true, he eats *organic* and that includes meat). Do you think you can identify and fight ecofascism without a working definition of the ideology? Let me clarify, I'm not even saying your definition is wrong. I'm saying you don't have one. If you don't actually have a model of what ecofascists BELIEVE IN to reference, do you think you can pretend to be an authority on how to fight them? The end goal of ecofascism is genocide justified as "fighting overpopulation" and "keeping the land under its rightful protectors. It has to be actively and competently opposed at all costs. You cannot be an activist on vibes alone. You certainly can be a reactionary though.

[hyperions-fate]

Netanyahu has reiterated that Israel will not accept a ceasefire deal that involves an end to Gaza's illegal occupation by the IDF. It's tempting to reduce this to Netanyahu's personal malevolence, but his intransigence is a crystal-clear reflection of the Israeli state and of the logic that has propelled it since 1948. Israel wants land, settlements, colonies. It will pursue expansion at the end of the sword, and will consume tens of thousands of Palestinian, Lebanese, and Arab lives to do it. The only thing that will stop this war machine is concerted resistance, both in the Middle East and in the West. Anything that will frustrate and hinder the operation of the Israeli military and state is a necessity.

[punkass-diogenes]

Anyone who thinks Israel is not BY DEFINITION settler-colonial must either know absolutely nothing about the history of Israel or nothing about the definition of settler colonialism.

[seat-safety-switch]

Are you now, or have you ever, been a member of the American Horticultural Society? If you answered in the affirmative to this question, there are several detectives down at the station who would like to talk with you about your activities over the last few weeks. Don't worry, I'm no snitch: I just want my shitboxes back.

Gardeners are nothing if not resourceful. If you go into a good-sized suburban backyard garden, you'll see trash cans getting used to protect plants. Old lawnmower-struck hose irrigating tender veggies. And CD-ROMs dangling everywhere, to alternatingly antagonize and beguile the crows into not eating all the cucumbers this year. I admire this kind of waste-not-have-not mentality, but sometimes it goes a little bit too far.

A couple months ago, there were some rumblings about "guerrilla gardeners." These rogue seedsfolx would roam the countryside, eyes peeled for opportunity to plant a garden on land they don't own. Upon finding old abandoned lots, sun-bleached traffic islands, and unattended flower beds, they would strike, stuffing innocent lands with their ovules. Soon, a gorgeous garden of hardy plants would be in that place. Pissed off the bylaw officers, who now had to deal with the beauteous, chaotic bounty of nature, rather than dead, brown grass when it came time to mow. I thought this was pretty funny, until it happened to me.

Do you know why they tell you not to leave your dog inside a car? Because it gets really hot inside a car. Sun goes into the windows, but the heat can't escape. We call this a "greenhouse effect." Do you know what else has a greenhouse effect? Fucking greenhouses do. One morning, I came out to my yard full of several dozen non-operable, shit-box automobiles to find that someone had jimmied the locks on each and every one of them. On the seats? Plants. Some were exotic hothouse varieties. Some were simply pretty flowers. And they were all growing strong, fed by the sunlight through the greasy windows, the controlled drip of rainwater through the rust holes in the roof, the iron-rich powder on the seats, and the humid rainforest atmosphere of my cars' interior. What was this town coming to?

I cleared this out, of course, placing the plants gently outside, where they belonged. Soon, even more exotic varietals of botanist-lust found their way into the cars to replace them. If I turned my back for a weekend, I'd be chopping a strange kind of vine that even Wikipedia says "I dunno" about. The local bylaw officer noticed, too, while trying to do one of her routine sweeps to see if she could get me on a technicality. Seeing the work of the guerrilla gardeners enraged her so much that I don't think she even noticed I started parking the Viscount in the neighbour's swimming pool to keep the interior safe from all but water lilies.

[councilofcastamere]

WINTER NIGHTS | CREGAN STARK X TARG!READER ꧂

a b r i d g e m e n t : With tensions rising, your elder half-sister Rhaenyra arranges for you to seek asylum in the freezing land of the North. And fortunately for you, Cregan is there to show you how Northmen operate.

TW: penetration, loss of virginity, breeding kink, mentions gender roles but in a sexy way, sexual tension, sibling jealousy, childhood neglect, mentions of death by birth, shitty character development

A/N: I know the girly portrayed is Visenya but her body is tea in this so maybe I do know best…

The second daughter. The oh-so passed over maiden. Not belonging to anything, nor belonging to nothing. Not the first, and not the last. An ever enduring memory to a passed over era. Nothing significant. Never anything significant.

That’s what you were. Insignificance. A beautiful insignificance, if you could see beauty in tragedy. Beauty in all the ways of life. All the little horrible things that make up a big, beautiful, picture. People shan’t look close, you’d assure yourself.

But you were you. Born to the everlasting way of royal life. To the peaceful Viserys, and his second wife, a woman whose name is not all that important. Another maiden from a noble house that perished to childbirth. Lost her life, giving life.

And as it did not to many maidens, the Gods did not grant you the chance to grow up with your mother. The blood that dripped down her thighs had covered you from head to toe as you came into existence, and she had naught of you in her arms before a deep and long slumber overcame her. The stranger had come for her, and he did not slow down on its way. He’d taken her as quick as she’d given you to the world. A quick exchange, you’d suppose.

Now and then you think about her. What she might have looked like, what she might have liked, what she might have been had she survived the wretched burden of your existence. You’d often wonder if infants who survived childbirth ever felt as deep a burden as she did. To have your very first breath of life tainted with the death of an innocent. Tainted with tragedy.

Growing up in King’s Landing hadn’t been all that as it sounded. You’d never really been that happy, as ungracious as it sounded.

You had an older sister - Rhaenyra - who’d occasionally humoured you. You’d never seen much of her, really. Perhaps it was your own fault as well. For not actively seeking her out. For not being the younger sister one was supposed to be. Some people - as close to you as they may be - are just unattainable in your mind. Your kin aren’t your kin until you allow it.

You have better companions than her, you figured. You had your lady-in-waitings. Lady Vievenne of house Swann. Lady Laycie of house Oldflowers. Lady Claere of house Ambrose. Lady Evelyne of house Hightower, who was, by all accounts, a gift from your newest stepmother, Alicent of the house Hightower.

What you also had was younger siblings. Such as Aegon. Though he is naught but a skirt enthusiast, swimming along the sea of young maidens at his whim. But he cares not whether they are, does he?

And oh, do not get yourself started on the one-eyed prince and that smug little smile on his sharp-featured face. Nonetheless, he was gentle. Oh so gentle with his touch. And oh so sinister in the way that made you feel important enough to be in his good graces.

However, you chose to distance yourself from all parties involved as fate made it clear what it had in store. A great slap to the great Targaryen dynasty. A dark cloud looming over the already curse-clad clan.

For even you knew that the only thing that could tear down the House of the Dragon, was itself.

“Sister.” you greeted one late evening, having taken flight to Dragonstone on your she-dragon, Starfyre. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“…y/n.” the elder sister called out, a small smile on her lips. “I… am glad for your visit.”

“…I’m certain you are,” you say, trying with all your might to contain a frown.

You eyed her awkwardly as she wiped her sweaty hands off her dress, letting out a sigh as the elder royal wasn’t quite certain how to approach the topic.

“I… understand… things quite haven’t been… that active, in our kinship,” Rhaenyra speaks up, taking a step closer. “And for that, I apologise.”

You could only nod, a small smile gracing your lips at the heartwarming confession of absent love.

“I apologise, also.” you smiled, your hands finding each other behind your back. “I suppose I should have been the one to seek your company and counsel as well.”

“Good.” Rhaenyra smiled awkwardly, a silence engulfing the echo-ridden chambers. “The reason, as to why I called you, might be surprising.”

You froze slightly, heart pounding as the possibilities of implications travelled through your mind. The goosebumps on your arms grew more prominent as a cold breeze passed through.

“Oh?” you answered, cocking a brow. “And what might that be, sister?”

“I ask of you to travel to the North,” Rhaenyra admits, a tone of seriousness overshadowing the warm moment. “I have already sent a raven to Lord Cregan Stark, and he has agreed to host you. If it pleases you, of course.”

No answer came out of your lips, save for your a mere breath. You felt a pang in your heart, consuming your every emotion, making certain you cannot detect how you feel about the news.

A dragon in the north? What a jest. You’d do better in Dorne, surrounded by sun-kissed squires and stable boys than laddish lordlings and Northern butchers.

“And… why should I?” you asked, respect in your tone. “Pardon me, my sister, but why have you made this decision for me?”

“Tensions are rising, y/n. You know that as well as I do.” Rhaenyra sighs, her body language giving up on its tense posture. “And I am aware of your… complex feelings on it. But to the North you must. I’m sending Rhaena to the Va-”

“Yes, because Rhaena gets to be hosted by a relative of yours, in safety. Meanwhile you sent me off to some Northern stranger!”

“Y/n.” Rhaenyra warned, raising a brow. She took a step closer as you composed your words. “You are my sister, and I will have you safe in the North. The Northmen are honourable men, and in time you’ll know.”

✫彡

And so you were, clad in thick fur, lady Vivenne and lady Evelyne at both sides of yourself. Across from you sat three servants, and somewhere else sat your sworn shield.

“It will be splendid.” Evelyne beamed, properly adjusting her hair, tied up in a bun, similar to the ones the older maidens wear. “We shall meet every dusk, and speak about our day. In front of the fire.”

“Not if I can help it.” you sighed softly. “Apologies, my ladies, but I’ll let you two get at it. I’d love to explore the North in solitude.”

“Right…” Vivenne nodded, looking through the small peep holes as the carriage slowed down, just outside the gates of Winterfell. “We’ve arrived, I suppose. You’ll have to greet Lord Stark. If he’s anything we’ve heard of and more, I wish you luck.”

You only nodded, watching as your ladies exited the carriage, standing at the side of the door. Their faces are cast down, as if in mourning. Perhaps they’re mourning the life of luxury provided at King’s Landing.

You could not blame them for it, really. From growing up in their own house, to growing up in the Royal house, to trade it again to live to see the snowy winters of Winterfell.

You shook slightly, the cold air hitting your face in an instant as you slightly lifted your dress, taking a step out of the three provided for the carriage.

You looked ahead of you, eyes locking on the noblemen and women, standing straight and proud. The women bore clothes of low quality, so obviously sewn to fit any class. The men wore dark furs, contrasting to the blue clothing of the opposite sex.

And in the midst of it, stood Cregan Stark, accompanied by a mere little boy of just two years of age. Your eyes locked upon his stormy-grey ones, his face etched into a stern expression, eyes focused on yours.

You maintained the eye contact, taking each step closer to him.

“Princess Y/N.” Cregan greeted formally, taking your soft hand in his. “Welcome to Winterfell. I am Lord Cregan Stark.”

“Thank you, Lord Stark.” you smile, curtsying in a fashionable manner. Your eyes stood glued on his as his lips brushed against the palm of your hand. “I’m truly honoured to be here.”

“…I’m certain you are.” Cregan answered, eyeing you skeptically.

Hearing false compliments wasn’t out of the ordinary for the wolf of Winterfell. He knew well enough that you weren’t suited for the North. You were a Southern lady, used to the life of feasts, luxury, and sparkly dresses.

“Let us go inside, shall we?” you smiled charmingly, looking up at the tall castle with dread in your eyes.

“Aye, so we shall.” Cregan nodded, his broad shoulders most notable as he sauntered into the opened gates.

✫彡

The first night went unfamiliar to you, the harsh blows of the cold weather creating a prominent presence looming over the already melancholic times.

You sat in your chambers, sitting at the stony window sill as you watched Cregan from above.

The lord was overlooking young squires on the courtyard, engaged in conversation with the knight in charge of guiding the young to-be-knights.

All dressed in fur, shoulders looking as if they were padded. Cregan’s hair was tied up, with two front strands escaping and hanging loose. His grey-blue eyes stood glued at watching the young squire’s techniques, and you could only sigh as you got lost in his appearance.

Ever since stepping foot into the North of Westeros, you’d developed a strange sense of interest in the beauty of Northern men. How they all dressed so grimly, but intimidating. How they’re oh-so honourable and hard working. How they always seemed so clean shaven but rugged all at once.

And you could not help but wonder what it would be like had you wedded one of them.

Being completely honest, you’d never really been the sort of maiden to stay inside of her chambers, waiting for her husband to return from his duty, deprived of affection.

With any Southern lord, being a doting unappreciated wife would never cross your mind.

But with Northern men, however, you had the feeling your efforts wouldn’t go unnoticed.

Before you could continue your vulgarly confusing thoughts, you saw Cregan’s eyes shift to yours, finding your gaze.

You could only lean against the window, a hand on the stony side as you gazed back at him. Your hair was loose, and you were dressed in your creamy beige nightdress.

You held his gaze for a moment, until ultimately turning away, leaving the implications of that gaze to his imagination.

✫彡

By the third day, you’d been reading in the old library belonging to House Stark. You’d sat on a plush seat, the dusty book on your lap as your gentle fingers flipped through the pages.

But you weren’t alone.

Cregan Stark sat near you, his knees in almost touching proximity to yours.

“Aye, the North is cold, but it’s honest.” he tells you, gently shutting his own book. “The snow doesn’t lie about its intention. No courtly games like they play in the South.”

“Oh, please.” you smiled, shutting your book as well. your body shifted so it was facing his, resting your head on one hand. “The courtly games are what makes it so fun.”

“Now, riddle me this.” You smiled, noting his full attention on you. His body language exuded calmness, and you felt secure in the knowledge that his comfort lies with you. “How do you not like courtly games? Personally, it makes my life all the more amusing.”

“I suppose it’s all jesting for you, princess.” Cregan said, his eyes resting on yours. “Amusement or not, I’d rather know where I stand…”

“With you, however…” His eyes trailed down to your bare shoulder, the white nightdress you’re wearing very much a sight of sore eyes. “I think I know.”

“Oh, do you?” you teased, cocking a brow. “And how so, pray tell?”

“Well…” he grunted, shifting in his seat to tighten the proximity around you two. “You’d do well not to cross any Northern man. They don’t take well to… courtly games.”

You only smiled at that, your upper body instinctively leaning in, albeit torturously slow.

“And, uh, suppose I… marry a Northern lord.” you teased quite coquettishly, a hand moving to rest on the thick fur coating his body. “What am I in for.”

You watched as his smirk only widened, gently taking the hand that rested on his fur, and taking it in his.

“Marry a Northern lord like me, and have your nights warmed under the thick fur of blankets.” he says, his thumb rubbing against your knuckles. “Northern loyalty runs deep, princess. That’s what you’d be in for.”

You nodded slowly, and you could not help but notice those coloured eyes of his descending onto your perky breasts.

Great, this was all going well so far. “I’d imagine… do you think he’d gift me a pup? I’ve always wanted a tiny pet, to keep.”

“Yeah?” The lord licked his lips, a hand resting on your waist. “You think you’d handle a wolf properly?”

“Well, I would.” you smiled, nodding in agreement. “I’m a dragon… and dragons do not surrender that easily.”

You smiled, shifting in your seat again as Cregan amusedly indulged you in your silly thoughts. “Just imagine it, my lord. I’d be holding that pup every night trying to get it to warm to me.”

Your hand slowly, but surely, trickled down to his clothed thigh, trying to maintain a sense of quiet intimacy.

“You’ll have your work cut out for you, then.” his voice lowered, bordering on husky. “Wolves aren’t so easily tamed, not even by someone with…”

He paused for a moment, a hand gently taking the one you placed on his thigh.

“…your charms.”

You’d have a cheeky comeback on the tip of your tongue, had it not been for Cregan’s lips descending upon yours, clashing together like Blackwoods and Brackens.

You let out a soft breath as you eased into the kiss, feeling his large hands grip your waists as if his life depended on it.

Your hands moved from his shoulders, to his neck, and then to his armoured chest. The armour he carried felt cold to your hands, yet it made it all the more sinful.

“Did you have this in mind?” you murmured against his lips, tongue circling his as you so sloppily attempted to kiss him. “Seducing me?”

The silence engulfed you two for a moment, only being overshadowed by the sound of soft breaths.

“You have it wrong, princess.” he breathed, firmly planting you upon his lap, your back pressing against his chest. “Do you take me for a halfwit?”

You smiled, looking over your shoulder as you attempted to chase his lips with yours again.

“No, but I certainly did not take you for a man so easily seduced.” you teased, guiding his hands to your clothed breasts. “You don’t seem the type to give in that easily.”

“Because it’s untrue.” he spoke up, lips brushing to against your neck. “But do you honestly think nothing would be done about the way you saunter around, looking as you do?”

His hands slowly tugged against your nightdress, pressing a hard kiss to your achy jaw before pulling away.

“Lay yourself down on the carpet.” he commanded, hands shifting to peel off his fur coat, along with his armour and tunic.

All you could do was nod and watch on as his armour went discarded on the floor, the metal material cranking against the stone ground.

His bare chest was now visible, the defining abs illuminated by the glowing fire. His hair messed up when he threw his tunic over his head.

“Cregan, I-"

And in one moment, you felt his large body overshadow yours, clashing lips again. Cregan lifted his body as to not crush you, hands on either side of your head.

You only permitted yourself to breathe unevenly, stead of moan. Your hands found his shoulders, desiring to pull him closer than possible.

“Ever since you’ve arrived you’d been nothing but trouble.” Cregan murmured, lips finding your throat. “Sauntering around with your ladies, endlessly teasing me.”

Your legs only shifted to wrap around his waist, back slowly arching at the kisses.

He took notice, and let one of his hands pin you down, lips descending towards your perky breasts.

“Gods, you’re wrong for this.” he grunted, swirling his tongue around the nipple. “For provoking me, as you did yesterday, and the day before that.”

“For thinking you have the authority to do this to a lord.” he breathed, your small breast fitting into his large palm.

“For…” he continued, kissing down your stomach, before ultimately glancing back at you “…thinking you’d get away with this.”

“I did not think I’d get away with this.” you tease, watching as he moves face-to-face again. “Which is why I did it.”

Your hands find his muscled arms, squeezing it gently. “I want to know how Northern men do it.”

You’d think you were jesting, but were you truly?

You’d have opened your mouth to say anything else, looking up at him, if it weren’t for the Northern lord himself roughly flipping you to your stomach.

“You wish to know, my princess?” he murmurs, unlatching his breeches. “You’d have your first time be with a Northman?”

You nodded, cheek resting on the carpet fabric without surrender. “Yes. Gods yes.”

He hiked your skirt around your waist, your plump ass visible to his peering eyes.

“You’ll be ruined for other men, aye.” He grunted, his hand wrapping around his rock hard cock.

“That’s good, because I desire no one save you.” you smiled, allowing him to lift your hips up and arch your back.

“Yeah?” he smirked, the tip of his cock rubbing against your damp hole. “You’ll have me make you my wife?”

You nodded, impatiently moving your hips. “I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

“You’d be a good wife, wouldn’t you?” he grunted once again, head finally pushing into your unloosened clit. “No Southern games, no poignant looks of yours.”

“You like that about me.” you painfully breathed, feeling the uncomfortable ache of his cock in your newly penetrated cunt.

His head descended, placing gentle kisses upon your shoulders. “A maiden. Perhaps you aren’t as well-equipped to handle a wolf as you said you were.”

“I am.” you protested, pushing your hips back. “Move your hips. I wish to prove myself.”

He only speeded up his thrusts, and as you allowed the moans to fill your lips, his hands found a way to push your head down.

“You’d carry my pups?” he asked, thrusting into you aggressively, pumping his cock in and out. “Wait on my cock every night?”

You only moaned incredulously, asscheeks clapping along with every snap of his hips.

“Yes.” you breathed, gasp and claps filling the room. “Fuck, put a babe inside of me. I want your children.”

“We’ll have to wed sooner, before the babe gets born in wedlock.” he grunted, hands gripping your hips, pushing you back onto his thick length. “But that’s what you wanted all along, was it?”

You gripped the fabric of the carpet, cheeks burning as it rubbed against the irritating carpet.

“For a thick cock such as this.” he teased, tugging at your hair.

“Yes.” you moaned pathetically, cheeks flushed as you felt a knot forming into your stomach.

Your lips parted, your eyes rolling above-ways.

“Yes, yes!” you moaned loudly, feeling his hands grope your breasts. “Fuck, you’re moving fast.”

“Never fast enough.” he murmurs, member sliding against your wet slit.

He could feel your tight walls clenching around him, milking his cock for all it is worth. His grip on you tightened as he thrust down to meet your upward motion.

And with one sharp thrusts, you felt the knot loosen and the cream dripping out your twitching clit.

Yet, he didn’t stop, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he rode you through your orgasm.

The feeling of your walls clenching around his cock was enough to send him reeling as well, burying himself deep inside of you.

Hot spurts of cum dripping out of your hole, you completely got yourself spent, closing your eyes and deciding you could just fall asleep on this carpet.

“No sleeping in the library.” he scolded lightly, putting on his fur coat, covering his naked physique. “Come here.”

You exhaustedly crawled over to him again, and snuck yourself into his coat, the clothing covering both of your naked bodies.

“I’m taking you to your chambers.” he sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “And for the next time, do not attempt to get so exhausted. I went easy on you this time.”

[zvaigzdelasas]

A furious diplomatic spat between Israel and the United Nations has broken out, with Israeli officials calling for the resignation of Secretary General Antonio Guterres after he said Hamas’ October 7 attacks on the country “did not happen in a vacuum.” At a Security Council meeting, Guterres called for a humanitarian ceasefire on Tuesday amid the deepening crisis in Gaza, and told the Security Council that “clear violations of international humanitarian law” are being witnessed. He called Hamas’ October 7 murder and kidnap rampage “appalling,” and said “nothing can justify the deliberate killing, injuring and kidnapping of civilians, or the launching of rockets against civilian targets.” “It is important to also recognize the attacks by Hamas did not happen in a vacuum,” Guterres said. “The Palestinian people have been subjected to 56 years of suffocating occupation. They have seen their land steadily devoured by settlements and plagued by violence; their economy stifled; their people displaced and their homes demolished.”[...]

His comments angered Israeli Foreign Minister Eli Cohen, who was in the chamber as Guterres spoke. “In what world do you live?” said Cohen. “Definitely, this is not our world.” Writing on social media later, Cohen said that “after the October 7th massacre, there is no place for a balanced approach. Hamas must be erased off the face of the planet!” Israel’s ambassador to the United Nations, Gilad Erdan, called on Guterres to resign, saying he had “expressed an understanding for terrorism and murder.” Then, on Wednesday, Erdan said his country will block visas for United Nations officials. It had already rejected an application by the UN Under-Secretary-General for Humanitarian Affairs and Emergency Relief Coordinator, Martin Griffiths, Erdan told the Israeli Army Radio channel. “It’s time we teach them a lesson,” added Erdan.[...]

In an effort to “set the record straight,” Guterres said Wednesday he was “shocked by misinterpretations by some of my statement yesterday in the Security Council – as if I was was justifying acts of terror by Hamas.”[...]

But Guterres did not back away from his Tuesday call for a ceasefire, or from his nod towards the historical treatment of Palestinians. The main United Nations agency working in Gaza said it would be forced to halt its operations by Wednesday evening due to a lack of fuel, with the territory having faced days of airstrikes and near-total blockade following the Hamas attacks. Efforts in the UN to endorse a ceasefire have so far been scuppered, with the US vetoing a draft resolution raised by Brazil last week.

Secretary of State Antony Blinken on Tuesday told the agency that “humanitarian pauses must be considered” to allow aid to reach civilians in Gaza, though he notably avoided the phrase “ceasefire.”[...]

The World Health Organization meanwhile reiterated calls on Tuesday for a ceasefire, saying it is “unable to distribute fuel and essential, life-saving health supplies to major hospitals in northern Gaza due to lack of security guarantees.” Six hospitals in Gaza have been forced to shut due to a lack of fuel, WHO added.

There's literally no (0 (zero)) purchase gained by equivocating w these people btw. It is in fact seen as weakness [25 Oct 23]

[dontyouworrydaddy]

Can you please write about the Task Force 141 boys (and Konig too if it's ok) just casually shopping when a young woman comes to them out of the blue, gently grabbing their arm. She looks absolutely terryfied, whispering a shaky "Act like you know me. Please!" It's clear someone has been following her for a whlie and she's desperate for help. Thank you.

𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓

Task Force 141 (+König) x Reader

I‘m so happy I get to write this since I had this in mind for such a long time 😭 so Thank you for suggesting this and I hope you like it xoxo 😚

KÖNIG

As König strolled through the bustling marketplace, his keen eyes scanned the various stalls, his mind focused on the mundane task of running errands. Dressed inconspicuously in civilian clothes, he blended seamlessly into the crowd, his stoic demeanor giving no hint of the dangerous missions he undertook as an elite soldier.

Suddenly, a gentle touch on his arm startled him. He turned to face you with fear written deeply into your eyes. "Please act like you know me!" you pleaded, your voice trembling. König instantly recognized the distress in your voice and the urgency in your gaze. Without hesitation, he nodded, his stoicism giving way to concern.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice laced with a comforting tone. He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a protective embrace. You leaned into his chest, seeking solace in his strength.

König's social anxiety has always been a problem for him and it’s hitting hard surfaced in this unexpected encounter. He was a man of few words but possessed an unwavering sense of loyalty and courage. He was calm under pressure, his sharp instincts guiding him through the chaos of battle. Now, faced with a terrified stranger seeking his help, those traits kicked into action.

As König held you, he discreetly surveyed his surroundings. His eyes landed on a man lurking nearby, watching you guys intently. The man's presence and the way he leered at you which made it clear he had been following you. König's protective instincts flared, and he knew he needed to act swiftly.

With a calm yet firm voice, König spoke to the man, his words laden with an underlying warning. "Do you have a problem, sir?" he asked, his tone carrying an unmistakable air of authority.

The man's face paled as he realized he had been caught. He stammered a weak denial, his eyes darting nervously from König to you. Sensing the growing unease in the man, König maintained his grip on the you, ensuring your safety. Without another word, the man hastily retreated, disappearing into the crowd as if he were never there. König watched him go, his steely gaze never faltering. Once the immediate danger had passed, he turned his attention back to you gently releasing you from his protective embrace.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his concern evident in his voice. You nodded, gratitude shining in your eyes. You thanked him for his help but your voice still laced with residual fear. König, ever the enigma, simply nodded in response, his focus returning to the world around him.

SIMON RILEY

Simon strolled through the bustling marketplace, enjoying a rare moment of solitude away from his covert missions and high-stakes operations. As he perused the various stalls, his attention was suddenly drawn to a figure emerging from the throng, walking towards him with a sense of urgency. It was you and you had fear written across your face, approaching Simon with trepidation. Without a moment's hesitation, you reached out and gently grabbed his arm, your voice trembling as you whispered, "Act like you know me. Please!" He looked down at you and he wonders why him because you can’t see his face due to the mask covering his whole face but his eyes.

But still, Simon's instincts kicked in, his years of training guiding his response. He swiftly assessed the situation, noting the unease in your eyes and the subtle glances cast over your shoulder. Without a word, he nodded, recognizing the urgency of the matter. With a sense of familiarity, he slipped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer, creating a facade of friendship and protection. “There you are. I thought you got lost in the mall” he replied a bit loudly so the man behind you could hear it.

The man, dressed in a nondescript manner, had been trailing you for some time. His presence was unsettling, and his intentions were definitely clear. Sensing the danger, Simon decided to confront the man head-on. With a calm yet authoritative voice, he greeted the stranger, "Hey, is there a problem?"

The man's eyes widened, clearly caught off guard by Simon's intervention. He stammered, unable to meet Simon's piercing gaze. "N-No, there's no problem. Sorry for the misunderstanding," he mumbled before quickly retreating into the crowd, disappearing as if he had never been there at all.

You let out a sigh of relief, the tension slowly releasing from your body. Simon's protective embrace remained, offering you a sense of security amidst the chaotic surroundings. He looked down at you, concern etched upon his face. "Are you alright? Do you know that man?"

You shook your head, grateful for Simon's intervention. "No, I've never seen him before. But he's been following me for a few days and he’s always lurking in the shadows. I didn't know what to do, and then I saw you. I just...I needed help. Because this time I had the feeling something is gonna happen"

Simon's expression softened, his voice filled with reassurance. "You did the right thing, coming to me. We'll figure this out together. You're safe now."

With that, Simon gently led you away from the marketplace, finding a quieter corner where the noise of the crowd was replaced by a sense of serenity. His arm remained around you, providing both a shield and a comfort. The world seemed to fade away as the two of you focused on each other.

He stayed with you for an hour until you were calm and offered to guide you home. You guys started talking and he was pretty good at keeping your mind busy and forgetting about what happened earlier.

Before you leave, you give him your phone number and thank him again. He first didn’t accept it but you wanted to go out and have a drink as a thank you. After a few arguments he agreed and accepted it.

JOHN MACTAVISH

John strolled through the busy shopping center, blending in with the bustling crowd. As an experienced soldier, he had become accustomed to the chaos of war, but today he sought solace in the mundane world of civilian life. It was an ordinary day, or so he thought.

Suddenly, a hand gently grasped his arm, and he turned to face an unfamiliar yet terrified face. It was you, eyes wide with fear and voice trembling as you spoke. "You, please. Act like you know me. Please!" you whispered urgently.

John was taken aback by the intensity of your plea, but his instincts kicked in immediately. With a nod, he masked his surprise and responded, "Hey, how have you been?" He wrapped his arms around you in a comforting hug, hoping to offer you some reassurance.

Feeling the strength and warmth in his embrace, you relaxed. You leaned closer, your voice barely above a whisper, "There's a man following me. He's been tracking me for a while, and I'm terrified. I don't know what to do."

John's eyes narrowed as he surveyed his surroundings, searching for any signs of the mysterious man. “Don't worry," he murmured, his voice filled with quiet determination. "I'll handle it."

Just as John finished speaking, a figure emerged from the crowd, his gaze fixed on you. Sensing the tension, the stalker approached, a malicious glint in his eyes. However, his confidence wavered when he saw John's protective stance and you nestled against him.

John's steely gaze met the stalker's, and he spoke with an edge of warning in his voice, "Is there a problem?" His voice, calm and controlled, sent a shiver down the stalker's spine. The stalker faltered, suddenly unsure of himself. He stammered, "N-no, no problem at all." Fear danced in his eyes, realizing that he had underestimated the situation. Without another word, the stalker swiftly turned on his heels and disappeared into the crowd, leaving John and you in a newfound sense of safety. John's grip on you tightened slightly, a silent promise that he would continue to protect you.

As the adrenaline subsided, you looked up at John, gratitude evident in her eyes. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice filled with genuine relief. "I don't know what I would've done without you."

John offered a reassuring smile, his rugged features softened by a genuine kindness. "You're welcome. Just glad I could help. Are you okay?"

A small smile graced your lips, finally feeling a sense of security. "I am now. Thanks to you, …"

“John. My Name is John” he replied with a smile. “Thanks to you John“

You guys stood there for a moment longer until you were calm and talked for a bit before your ways parted again.

JOHN PRICE

John walked through the bustling aisles of a local supermarket, his mind preoccupied with mundane thoughts about groceries and errands. He is relaxed, but his years of combat experience had honed his senses, always keeping his mind busy.

As he reached for a can of soup on the shelf, a gentle yet desperate touch on his arm caught his attention. He turned his head and his eyes met with yours. In that moment, he sensed your fear and urgency. There was no need for words; your trembling form and wide eyes spoke more than words.

"Help me. Please act like you know me" you whispered shakily, your voice laced with terror. You were being pursued, and you needed his help. Without hesitation, Price nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. His personality trait of being fiercely protective kicked into high gear.

His grip tightened around you, offering both support and a sense of safety. "Hey," he greeted, his voice low and comforting. "What's going on?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you clung to him. "There's this guy... he's been following me for days," you explained, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what he wants, but I can't shake him off."

Price's jaw tensed, his expression growing more determined. "Stay close," he said, his voice holding a steely edge. "Let's confront him."

With your heart pounding, you followed Price as he led you through the supermarket, his imposing figure serving as a shield against any potential threat. As you weaved through the aisles, you caught sight of the man who had been stalking you. His eyes widened in surprise when he noticed Price's presence at your side.

John’s voice held a commanding tone as he approached the man. "You got a problem?"

Startled, the man stammered, his face turning pale. "W-What? No no no, no problem at all," he stuttered, his voice trembling. He hastily made his way toward the exit, clearly intimidated by the legendary figure of John.

With the threat seemingly neutralized, John turned his attention back to you. He pulled you into a comforting embrace, his strong arms offering solace amidst the chaos of the situation. "You're safe now," he reassured, his voice carrying a sense of genuine care.

You buried your face in his chest, feeling the weight of the tension slowly dissipating. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

KYLE GARRICK

Kyle was walking through his local yet favorite grocery store. He couldn’t find his favorite candy which was making him a bit mad. Little did he know that his peaceful shopping excursion was about to take a dramatic turn.

Suddenly, a hand gently clasped around Kyle's arm. He turned, his eyes locking with yours. You, with your disheveled hair and wide eyes, looked absolutely terrified. The fear in your gaze pierced through him, leaving no room for doubt. Without a word, you pleaded for his assistance.

"Act like you know me. Please," you whispered, your voice trembling.

Kyle's training kicked in, his instincts telling him to trust you. He masked his surprise and concern, his face transforming into a warm smile. "Hey," he greeted you, wrapping his arms around your trembling frame. The embrace offered you a sense of safety.

His voice, a soothing baritone, held a touch of authority. "Is that guy bothering you? Does he have a problem?" Kyle glanced over your shoulder, his gaze fixed on a man lurking in the distance, his eyes locked onto you with a sinister intensity.

Fear flashed across the stalker's face as he realized he had been caught. His eyes darted from Kyle to you and back again. In that moment, the tables turned, and he suddenly felt the weight of his actions. The man quickly averted his gaze, his footsteps retreating hastily. He was too scared to stay for a minute longer.

With the threat vanquished, you let out a shaky breath, the tension leaving your body. "Thank you," you whispered, gratitude lacing every word. "I don't know what I would have done without you." He released you from his protective embrace, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're safe now," he assured you, his voice filled with genuine concern.

For the rest of your shopping trip, Kyle remained by your side, his presence offering you an unspoken reassurance. Together, you navigated the aisles, filling the cart with groceries while engaging in lighthearted banter and getting to know each other.

After Paying for the groceries your ways split and you were thankful that he helped you out of the situation. He was glad he could save yet another life.

[taevisionceo]

TAEVision 3D Mechanical Design Machinery Construction Mining OpenPitMining Land Clearing Operation in open-pit mining Bulldozer Dozer ▸ TAEVision Engineering on Pinterest ▸ TAEVision Engineering on Google Photos

Data 042 - Jun 20, 2023

[opencommunion]

The Stop Cop City movement has sought to prevent the expropriation of part of the Welaunee Forest for the development of an 85-acre police mega training center: a model town to prepare the state’s repressive arms for the urban warfare that will ensue when the contradictions of their exploitation and extraction become uncontainable, as they did in 2020 after the APD murdered Rayshard Brooks.  That murder, and all those that came before, were the lodestars of the Black-led movement during the George Floyd uprisings; their demands were no less than the dismantlement of the entire carceral system. Unable to effectively manage or quell the popular street movements, the Atlanta Police Foundation set out to consolidate and expand their capabilities for surveillance, repression, imprisonment, armed violence, and forced disappearance. One result is Cop City, which has been racked by militant sabotage, land occupation, arson, and popular mobilizations, in an attempt to end the construction and return Atlanta to its people.  As the Atlanta Police Foundation was unable to contain the 2020 Black rebellion, so too have they been unable to quell the resistance against Cop City. The press reports that the project is hemorrhaging money and is mired in delays and difficulties. For their part, the city, the state, and the federal government, have in turn employed every tool in their power to destroy the movement. Last week, the Georgia State Senate passed a bill to effectively criminalize bail funds in the state; RICO charges have been contorted to target networks of support and care that surround the fighters; and last January, APD assassinated the comrade Tortuguita in cold blood while they rested in their tent in the forest. It is clear that Stop Cop City represents one of the conjunctural spear tips for expanding the existing systems of counterinsurgency that span Africa, Asia, and the Arab world.  Today the system’s belly rests atop Gaza, whose rumblings shake the earth upon which we walk. Through its Georgia International Law Enforcement Exchange (GILEE) program, the APD has sent hundreds of police to train with the Zionist occupation forces. And in October 2023, after Tufan al-Aqsa, the Atlanta Police Department engaged in hostage training inside abandoned hotels, putatively intended to “defeat Hamas,” in an advancement of tactics for the targeting of Black people. With every such expansion, the ability of counterinsurgency doctrines to counteract people’s liberation struggles grows. The purpose of counterinsurgency is to marshal state and para-state power into political, social, economic, psychological, and military warfare to overwhelm both militants and the popular cradle—the people—who support them. Its aim is to render us hopeless; to isolate and dispossess us and to break our will to resist it by any and all means necessary. This will continue apace, unless we fight to end it. Stop Cop City remains undeterred: on Friday, an APD cop car was burnt overnight in response to the police operation on February 8; yesterday, two trucks and trailers loaded with lumber were burnt to the ground. An anonymous statement claiming credit for the former, stated: “We wish to dispel any notion that people will take this latest wave of repression lying down, or that arresting alleged arsonists will deter future arsons.”  As the U.S. government and Zionist entity set their sights on the Palestinian people sheltering in Rafah, as they continue their relentless genocide of our people in Khan Younis, Jabalia, Shuja’iyya, and Gaza City, the Stop Cop City movement has clearly articulated its solidarity with the Palestinian struggle. They have done so with consistency and discipline, and we have heard them. Our vision of freedom in this life and the next requires us to confront and challenge the entangled forces of oppression in Palestine and in Turtle Island, and to identify the sites of tension upon which these systems distill their forces. This week, as with the last three years, the forest defenders have presented us one such crucible.

(11 Feb 24)

National Lawyers Guild, Stop All Cop Cities: Lessons For a National Struggle (video, 1 hr 45 min)

[halfwayhearted]

Real Love Is A Hard Attack — S.R.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Summary: It takes an accident for him to realize just how deep your feelings for him are.

Word Count: 1.1K+

Disclaimer/s — Gunshot mention, slight violence, a little angst (?), OOC Spencer perhaps, and no use of Y/N! I think that’s it.

A/N: Clearing out the drafts, requests always welcomed… hey… 🤍… Also I noticed I made the reader ask a lot of questions and then continue asking after he said he was fine, so… sorry! :3

Searching the entire bottom floor of the building, you feel the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand the longer you continue to look. Like they’re about to just up and vanish off of you. This place was quiet, too quiet, eerily quiet.

…

You get the point.

You, Reid, and Morgan were the first to walk in along with a couple SWAT officers, but when you had gotten nothing on the device used to communicate with them, you made your way up the stairs, that’s where they were. Where they were supposed to be. But, were they?

Hotch’s instructions were clear: 'Move in, keep silent, stay vigilant.' His anxiety was palpable to anyone within a five-mile radius. This UnSub operated with extreme precision, to an extraordinary degree. The Ohio PD had almost caught and locked him away previously; had they only been aware of his premeditated escape strategy and his precise timing for executing it.

Being careful as to not make a single sound with each step you take, you raised your gun and walked forward. God, the hallway was long. So long. The amount of horror movie vibes you got was enough to make your skin crawl.

Reaching the corner, you’re just about to round it when a gunshot sounds throughout the building. The echo making your ears ring. Morgan. Reid.

Focused solely on them and them only, you hasten ahead, oblivious to the looming shadow. Suddenly, rough hands shove you against the wall, causing your head to snap back and meet the brick surface. As you gather yourself, you witness the figure sprinting down the corridor, pursued closely by Morgan and the SWAT team.

No Reid, no Reid, no Reid, you repeated in your mind as you shook your head to dispel the dizziness, to no avail of course, yet it didn't prevent you from trying to reach him. As your vision gradually returned, you spotted Reid on the floor, propped uncomfortably close to the wall.

No, no, no.

“Spencer!” You cried out, dropping to your knees next to him. Your eyes scanning over his body for any signs of blood, leaning over him, you continue to search for anything. Nothing. Search harder!

That’s when your gaze lands on the bullet lodged into his vest, with a sharp inhale, you carefully unclasp the Kevlar vest and throw it aside. Check his pulse, what are you doing? You needed to calm down, you know you did. But this was Spencer. The man you’d—now, hold on a minute.

Focus.

Placing two fingers to his neck, you just about cheered at the sound of his heartbeat. It was racing, but it was there.

“Agent down, medical assistance possibly required.” You say shakily into the device strapped to the collar of your own vest, breathless.

“Reid,” your voice is quiet as you move your other hand to pat his cheek, “Spencer.”

Hearing his groan sounded like a melodic tune to your ears, you leaned forward and rested your head slightly on his stomach before looking up at him, you knew he was fine, but it didn’t stop the complete and utter relief you felt at hearing anything but the mans silence.

You rested a hand on his arm, “Hey, hey, easy. Are you in pain? Hurting? Talk to me.”

“UnSub is down and apprehended,” Rossi’s voice rings through your ears, and no doubt Spencer’s when you see him flinch, “Medicals almost here.”

“Fine,” he croaks out, “I’m fine.”

Nodding your head, not sure if he was trying to convince you or himself, you slowly helped him lean forward. “Are you okay? Where does it hurt?”

“I’m not… I’m not hurt.”

That wasn’t really my question, was what you wanted to say, but decided it was… best not to mention it. “Can you stand? Do you want to stand?” You ask, looking at him with a gaze so soft he wanted nothing more than to just sit there and stare. “Reid—come on, grab my hand.”

Holding out your hand, he hesitantly grabbed ahold of it and hoisted himself up. Letting out a groan as he leaned against a random desk.

“Are you okay?” The second time you’ve asked.

“Stop,” he rasped, “I’m okay. I promise.”

Your eyebrows knitted together, your eyes scanning over his figure once more. “You were shot, Spencer,” you paused, then added, “Let’s get you downstairs, yeah?”

With a nod, he moved toward the door and stumbled. That there was enough to tell you that calling for medical was the right decision. You quickly stood beside him, took his hand, and used it to drape his arm over your shoulder.

After reaching the last stair, Hotch looked up at the two of you, “The ambulance is out front. What happened? Are you okay?”

“He was shot—it hit the vest,” you answered.

Just then, Emily and Morgan walked in, their expressions etched with worry as they helped you both the rest of the way. Emily's eyes soon widened in alarm when she noticed something, “Hey, are you okay? Your head—” It’s bleeding.

Your head? Oh, your head. You'd almost forgotten the searing pain from being literally shoved against a brick wall.

The paramedics guide Reid to sit on the back of the ambulance, they start performing all the necessary checks, fearing the bullet might have caused unseen damage despite hitting the vest.

You, on the other hand, couldn't help but trip over your own feet before even attempting to respond to Emily's question. This prompted the other paramedic to look at you with concern, “Ma'am, are you alright?”

Looking over at him, you stammered, “I, uh, I hit my head.”

That made Spencer snap his gaze toward you, eyes wide with panic and confusion. You had hit your head, probably got a concussion, and yet you were still there, helping him. Why?

Hearing that made her partner rush to your side, directing you to a seat with a sense of urgency as he quickly checked your condition.

He furrowed his brows deeply, casting a glance over at Morgan, who was casually leaning against the ambulance. Morgan's eyes roamed over his features while he tilted his head slightly and said with a gentle yet probing tone, “Spill it, kid.”

“She has a concussion,” he murmured, “And she was helping me.” Again, why?

The man let out a sigh, saying, “You might be a genius, but sometimes you can be anything but.” With those words lingering in the air, he strolled over to where you were sitting, ruffling your hair and laughing when you swatted at his hands.

You might be a genius, but sometimes you can be anything but.

What did that even mean?

Well, he knew what it meant. The real question was what steps could he take to act on it. Because if there was one thing he was certain of…

It was that he felt the same way.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @pedrilcvr ! ౨ৎ

[peachsukii]

The past few mornings have been spent staring into your empty coffee cup, spoon clinking against the sides of the mug with absentminded stirring, breakfast left untouched.

“Peach?”

Bakugo’s voice doesn’t reach you the first time. Your mind is shut off, barely focusing on the food in front of you. He reaches across the table and gently takes your hand, running his thumb along the back of it.

“Earth to peaches,” he teases playfully, snapping you back to reality. “Ya don’t have to eat if you don’t feel up to it.”

You frown. “I-I’m sorry, Kats.”

“Don’t be. I’ll save it for later.”

He stares at you a few moments longer, the hurt spread across your features making his heart ache.

"You don’t need to carry all this shit alone," Bakugo stresses while squeezing your hand. "It's okay if you're not okay, just gotta let me know what you need."

You know he’s right, but it’s unreasonably difficult. Something in you prevents your woes from spilling out onto others - you’ve always carried it by yourself. Why? You don’t fucking know. It’s how you’ve always operated. Maybe it’s from being an only child, or being forced to be an adult at too young of an age. You’re the person everyone turns to for sunshine and rainbows, you can’t risk raining on their parades with your own storms.

The tears pooling in your eyes are unable to be controlled, steadily spilling over your waterline and onto the table. Bakugo lets go of your hand and anxiously gets up from his seat, carefully walking over to you. He kneels to meet your gaze, wiping away a few stray tears from your cheeks.

“Why don’t we stay in today, yeah? Red and Pinky won’t mind if we rain check.” He offers you a smile and cradles your tear stained cheek in his palm. “Stay in our sweats all day, eat junk an’ sink into the couch together. How’s that sound?”

That sounds nice.

You respond by launching yourself off the chair, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and landing in his lap when the two of you fall to the kitchen floor with a thump. Bakugo holds you tightly, one hand on the back of your neck to pull you as close has possible. You let out a sob and a sniffle, gripping onto his shirt like a scared child.

“I know, sweetheart…I know.”

He closes his eyes, letting you take the moment to just feel. Something you’ve been avoiding for the last few days.

“Thank you,” you whisper while clearing your throat. “I’m sorry that-”

Bakugo squeezes you tighter for a moment, cutting you off. “Nope, none’a that. Nothin’ to be sorry for.”

For the first time in a while, that notion sinks in, offering you a small dose of comfort.

“Wanna watch a cheesy romcom?” You ask nasally while leaning back in his lap, shaking your head to get rid of the last of your tears.

“Is the sky blue? ‘Course I do,” Bakugo jests, his hands moving to your waist. “Go pick somethin’ and I’ll get the popcorn.”

Maybe, just maybe, being vulnerable is okay.

[lordprettyflackotara]

noise || hoody

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+. remember when i talked about this hoody fic 509 years ago? yeah here it is. also yeS i am aware masky & hoody belong to marble hornets this is the only time im going to address this💀 we are in 2024 in this fandom WE KNOW. anyways enjoy !! <3

If there was anything you could’ve changed about your life, you had a particular decision in mind.

Being a desperate college student for cash, babysitting and dog walking wasn’t paying the off the debt you were accumulating.

You had scoured Craigslist, confident that there would be an odd job you’d be able to accomplish for quick cash.

Looking back you wish you had known quick cash wouldn’t come easy.

A posting offering $5k a week fell into your lap about a week later. The details seemed easy enough. The ability to clean an older mansion, whilst keeping the identities of the multiple infamous residents that resided there a secret seemed like a piece of cake.

What the posting didn’t list, was that the infamous residents were unhinged killers. Some of which you couldn’t even categorize as human.

It also didn’t list that your position would be residing in the mansion, permanently.

Being a maid in the Slenderman mansion was, in lack of better words: fucking terrifying.

The residents operated at odd hours. No matter what time you cleaned, you always received the displeasure of running into someone.

The longer you stayed, the longer paranoia began to settle in. Ben Drowned, the poster of the Craigslist ad, was a perv. You learned to stray away from electronic devices he could peep his head through. Jeff the killer, one of the most unhinged, had a short temper. He was one of the first ones to opt out of having his room cleaned by you, a decision you silently praised after walking by and seeing how filthy it was.

The next to opt out with a demonic creature named Eyeless Jack, one who specifically requested you stay out of his medical lab. Given all of the blood and goop you had mopped up at this point, a fear of being eaten led you to offering to clean it regardless. EJ knew you wouldn’t be able to handle it, given his ‘hobbies’ were the most gore filled of the mansions residents. It didn’t surprise him when you left the lab green, puking immediately in a bucket he had placed beside the door for you.

The other members whose names you were obligated to memorize, Jane, Clockwork, Jason the something maker, all were rarely home. You learned to steer clear of Jason’s workshop, the dolls he made often speaking to you as if they had souls. The only three other residents who lived in the mansion full time (minus its owner), were what you learned to be proxies. These proxies, two of them at least, seemed to be human just like you.

Ticci Toby’s mortality was still up in the air for you. He once had tripped and fallen after you had mopped the floors, landing on the marble face first. He got up like nothing happened, giggling to himself about ‘how wet you made the floor’. After observing him throw axes in the training room, you decided to steer clear of him.

Masky seemed to be the trio’s leader, his face consistently hidden behind a doll resembling mask. He avoided you like the plague, skipping the formalities and acting as if you didn’t exist. You never asked questions, not knowing how long anyone had truly been here. But Masky in particular seemed a bit older than everyone, when you accidentally stumbled upon him coming home late one night from a mission. His nose was trailing blood, his mask broken in half. You ensured to avoid eye contact, but extended a wet washcloth to him so he could attend to his nose.

After that your dynamic remained the same for the most part. Except when both of you occupied a room together, neither of you made an effort to beeline to the door.

Hoody was the last proxy, the one that made you more at ease than the others. Hoody had spoken a grand total of maybe ten words to you, introducing himself and Masky before dashing out of the back door. The only time you really saw him was when you cleaned his room, the man doing a poor job of pretending to read magazines while you cleaned. Other than that, you only caught glimpses of the proxies when they came home in the late hours of the night from missions.

Most of the time they were soaked in blood. In a couple of odd occasions you had to assist them in carrying one another up to Eyeless Jack’s medical lab. You couldn’t figure out why the proxies were here, two humans not seeming to fit in with the rest of misfits that resided here. You had no idea soon enough you’d be up close and personal.

Late night was when you preferred to clean, most of the killers away from the mansion and out hunting. The existence of the residents here only existed because of their dedication to keep their identities a secret. Night time was the perfect cover, for them and for you. You were leaning over the kitchen sink, scrubbing at a particular stubborn pot when you heard the back door open. You tried very hard not to stare, not wanting to gain unwanted attention.

You glanced up briefly, catching a glance of Toby’s and Masky’s familiar figures as they trudged upstairs. “He cost us that fucking mission, Slender’s gonna be so pissed off,” Masky growled, rounding the corner of the kitchen. Toby trailed behind him, an axe dripping blood slung over his shoulder. “Y-yeah, what w-w-was he thinking?!” Toby exclaimed, his stuttering something you had grown accustomed to. You noted Hoody’s absence, your eyebrows raising as you returned your gaze to the pot.

The sound of doors slamming echoed through out the other wise quiet mansion, the silence fulfilling you with some sort of ease. It didn’t take long for the final proxy to stumble into frame, his hand cupping his face. You weren’t forbidden from interacting with the mansions residents, your urge to help sweeping over you. Hoody was awkwardly stumbling, immediately leaning onto you for support as you helped him stay standing.

“I got it,” He huffed. His usual ski mask was half raised, the bottom half of his face revealed to you for the first time. His chin and upper lip had surprisingly clean cut facial hair, kept to a minimum. You guided him around the counter, helping him sit onto the kitchen counter by the sink. Hastily he shoved his yellow hood off of his head, yanking the ski mask off with it. You were surprised a normal human being stared back at you, a large gash sliced across his cheek.

“Jesus Christ,” You muttered. You grabbed a clean wash cloth, running it under cold water. “Didnt ask for your commentary doll,” Hoody said dryly. You swallowed, wringing out the excess water. You could’ve done what you did with Masky, handing him the washcloth and wishing him a silent farewell. But instead you didn’t. “Sorry,” You mumbled. You craved human contact, any kind of human contact. Brushing off your skirt you stepped in between his legs, leaning forward.

You were careful to avoid eye contact, focusing on dabbing the wound. Hoody silently winched under the feeling, inhaling through his teeth. As gently as you could you dabbed away the blood. “Do you want me to get EJ?” You asked. Hoody’s face was stone cold, from what you could see out of the corner of your eye anyways. “Dont bother, i’m sure he’s sick of patching us up all the time,” He grumbled. The wound didn’t look deep, just very long. Thankfully most of the blood was gone, the rest of his face covered in specs of dry blood (that you presumed to not be his) and dirt.

Turning on the sink you washed out the washcloth, the crimson paint drifting off down the drain with the water. You then returned to Hoody, wiping off his face. You weren’t sure what compelled you to be so compassionate, Hoody’s eyes fluttering shut. He took a deep breath, his shoulders seemingly relaxing. You were gentle of course, not wanting to piss the killer in front of you off. But even Hoody knew your action wasn’t callous.

Once you were done you awkwardly stepped aside, putting the rag in the sink. “You want a cig?” Hoody asked. He dug in his jeans, pulling out a beat up cigarette box. “Is this your way of showing gratitude?” You asked. The man in front of you smiled, extending you the box. “This right here is the only kind of buzz you’re getting around here doll,” He explained, allowing himself to half smile. You had never smoked a cigarette before, nor had you really planned on it. Not like it mattered now.

You put one to your lips like people did in movies, watching Hoody do the same. He pulled out a lighter, flicking it and igniting the end of his cigarette. You leaned forward, watching Hoody attempt to flick the lighter again. The flame refused to ignite, the sight of small sparks making him sigh. “Masky always takes the good lighters,” He muttered. He inhaled his cigarette, blowing the smoke to the right. You found the gesture of attempting to not violate you with smoke a little sweet.

“Well I appreciate the offer. I’ve never smoked a cigarette anyways,” You admit. Hoody shook his head. “That just won’t do then. Put it to your lips and stay still,” He ordered. You did as instructed, watching him lean closer to you. His fingers went under your chin, keeping your head held high. You felt your face beginning to burn, the end of his cigarette lighting yours as you inhaled. You both avoided each others gazes, until the second he began to back away.

For a brief moment you shared eye contact, searching each other’s eyes. For what? You didn’t know. You properly inhaled, coughing immediately. “You guys like this stuff?” You asked in between coughs, continuing to choke. Hoody nonchalantly took another drag of his, watching you struggle. “It’ll grow on you, trust me. I didn’t like it at first either,” He confessed. Once you regained strength in your lungs you properly stood up. Hoody remained seated on the kitchen counter, with you standing beside him.

“How long have you been here?” You asked curiously. You were stepping over a hundred boundaries, ones you could die for if you stepped over the line too far. “A while,” Hoody answered honestly. You took another drag of your cigarette, the taste of tobacco growing on you. “How long are you going to be here?” Hoody countered. You exhaled, glancing back at the proxy. He had exhaled through his nose, boldly making eye contact with you.

“A while.”

You found the courage to turn around, facing him fully. “You aren’t lonely?” You asked. Hoody gave you a smile, tossing the bud of his cigarette into the nearby trashcan. “I am, are you?” He asked curiously. You followed his lead, tossing the bud of the cigarette into the trashcan. If it set the kitchen on fire, it wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen. “Yeah I am,” You admit. Hoody slid off of the counter, his tall height towering over you.

“Do you uh, wanna change that?” He asked. For a killer who had a victims blood splattered across his face moments ago, he seemed so awkward. You wondered how long it had been since he had been with a woman. How long would it be before you could be with a man again? “Please,” You sighed. Hoody kissed you just as rough as you expected, both of you melting into the other. Both of you were undeniably needy, touch depraved and lonely. You were sure this was forbidden for both of you but as his tongue slid into your mouth, you just couldn’t find it within yourself to care.

“Call me Brian but only when it’s us, okay? Thats not who I am anymore but that’s who I want to be with you, okay?” Hoody asked. You nodded, the normal name bringing your comfort. Brian’s hand snaked down your waist, squeezing and kneading at the flesh of your ass. You whimpered into his mouth, the sound only making him harder. There was no telling how much longer you’d be around, the residents of the mansion unhinged enough to snap at any moment.

You couldn’t fully undress here and going upstairs was out of the question. “This has to be quick, we can’t get caught,” You whispered. Brian nodded, slipping his hand up your skirt. He rubbed against your wet cunt, your panties preventing any further stimulation. Brian had zero control over his life but he did right here, right now. You had no control over yours either, the decision to fuck each other to release steam the only free will decision either of you could make. You palmed him through his jeans, his cock practically busting through the fabric.

He guided you to the counter, grabbing the sides of your panties and yanking them down to your ankles. He shoved them into his pocket for what you thought to be safe temporary keeping. But Brian had other ideas.

“Fuck, please, wanna feel you Brian,” You whispered, trying hard to not groan loudly. Brian quickly undid his belt bringing his lips back to yours. It had been so long since he had kissed anyone, your soft lips driving him mad. It wasn’t long before his cock was at your entrance, awkwardly shuffling with his jeans at his ankles. He fell a bit backwards, causing you to laugh. “Fucking hell, sorry-” He began apologizing. You giggled, hopping off of the counter.

You brought him fully to the ground, pushing his back against the oven. “This might work better,” You replied, lowering yourself down onto his cock. Brian’s cock felt like heaven, your mouth falling open. Both of you let out a sigh of relief. You had no way to masturbate, no way to possibly release the stressful tension building inside of you. As you pressed your forehead against Brian’s, you realized that this was what you got. This was your outlet.

Brian’s gloved hands met your waist, helping you roll your hips. You let out a loud groan, one of his hands flying to your mouth. “Shh, you can’t make any noise,” Brian warned, your inability to stay composed only making him more hot and bothered. He took control, guiding your hips to ride him at a pace that worked for both of you. You were as wet as a virgin, your body yearning for more as Brian abused your g spot. Your sinful moans were muffled by his gloved hand, his other attempting to guide you.

He brought himself close to your ear. “If you wanna get off, you’re gonna have to ride me by yourself mkay? Do that and i’ll play with that pretty clit of yours doll,” He huffed, trying to control his own noises. You nodded yes profusely, trying to concentrate on grinding your hips against his. With his spare hand he found your clit, drawing sloppy circles around it. For a brief moment he was worried about his ‘skills’ not having slept with a woman in years. Whether he was good or bad at it, you didn’t appear to give a shit. You were still a panting mess, your hair sticking to your forehead from sweat.

Your walls clenched tighter around Brian as you felt yourself closer to euphoria, your eyes fluttering shut. With your forehead pressed to his you pawed at his hoodie, grabbing handfuls as your orgasm washed over you. Your sinful noises were muted by Brian’s hand, the muffled sounds music to his ears that he had made you feel that good. Your walls fluttering around him triggered his own orgasm, his cum flooding inside of you. He dropped his hand from your mouth, both of you taking a moment to breathe.

In a moment of true loneliness you leaned against Brian’s shoulder, ignoring the faint smell of dried blood and sweat. Unsurely Brian stroked your hair, trying to remember if that was comforting or not. He licked his dry lips, a bold question on the tip of his tongue.

“You wanna share a cigarette again tomorrow?”

[reasonsforhope]

Article

"2023 was a banner year for the Galapagos Islands: that wondrous archipelago so famous for its giant tortoises and other endemic species.

The long-serving conservation organization the Galapagos Conservancy, also endemic to the islands, recently published its annual report featuring standout figures like over 500 giant tortoises of 5 different species reintroduced to their natural habitat.

Additionally, a critically endangered species of albatross was identified to use giant tortoise feeding sites as take-off and landing areas. This key insight into co-dependency has given the Conservancy confidence that they can restore the populations of both animals to stable, flourishing numbers.

It underscores how far a donation to these endemic wildlife organizations really does go, and these two highlights of a successful year were only possible by the over $6 million in charitable contributions from supporters.

30 Chelonoidis chatamensis tortoises endemic to the smaller island of San Cristobal were repatriated to their natural habitat from the stock of a captive breeding program, while 97 native tortoises were returned to the second-largest island of Santa Cruz.

On the largest island of Isabella, 350 tortoises (214 C. guntheri and 136 C. vicina) were successfully reintroduced to their natural habitat after a survey found their numbers were not rising substantially on their own.

In March, the repatriation of 86 juvenile Chelonoidis hoodensis tortoises significantly contributed to enhancing the species’ distribution across their native habitat. They currently number 3,000 today on Española or Hood Island, a miraculous recovery from the 14 found there in the 1960s.

Also on Española, the endemic waved albatross was found to be taking off and landing on 50 additional parts of the island. These large birds, boasting an 8-foot wingspan, need ample space to get a running start before taking off, and this same principle applies when applying the brakes coming down from the sky.

In the survey, the biologists observed that concentrations of giant tortoises were linked with the usage of areas as runways for the albatross. Because the tortoises are the largest herbivores in the ecosystem, they perform the same acts as bison do in North America and Europe, and elephants in Africa—clear space.

With their herbivorous diet and large bulk, the tortoise’s feeding habits produce cleared areas ideal for albatross use.

“This discovery underscores the interconnectedness of the Galápagos ecosystem,” the authors of the report write. “This newly acquired knowledge allows us to strengthen the synergies between our conservation strategies.”

Of the $6.1 million received from donations and through other activities, the Conservancy was able to spend 77% of that on conservation programs, and that included some ambitious plans for this year—now already half done—which included drafting plans for restoration of the Pinta tortoise to the island of the same name, preparing tortoises for imminent reintroduction to the smaller Floreana island, and completely restoring the habitat for the Galapagos petrels on Santa Cruz.

Operating since 1985, the Galapagos Conservancy has a long track record of restoring these islands to their pre-Colombian glory. Let’s hope 2024 is as successful."

-via Good News Network, July 19, 2024

[minami-ff]

I Want My Kids to Have Your Eyes

Levi x Reader (fluff, sfw)

what a bold thing to say to your captain.

Moonlight hung over the hill like a comforting blanket as you both reclined an arm’s length apart on the soft grass beneath, bodies sinking into the earth. The day had been relentless, a gruelling mission that tested every ounce of strength. Now, in the quiet aftermath, you two found solace gazing upward at the summit’s view, shimmering like scattered diamonds against the canvas of the night sky.

The shared stillness remained comfortable, before you posed a soft interruption to the quietude, "Captain, do you ever think about your future?"

Levi's eyes briefly left the constellations above, attention shifting to you. "Yes, it usually ranges from the next second to the next few months. Which area of land outside the walls to explore, how defensive operations should alter for the next month, which day certain intelligen-”

“Captain-” You interrupted, then hesitated, the vulnerability of the topic making your heart race. "I meant a peaceful future, like having a family, kids?"

Levi's brow furrowed slightly. The thought of it was unfamiliar, impossible. "In this war? That’s far-fetched," he remarked, gaze returning to the stars.

A subtle smile grew on your lips as scenarios played at the back of your mind. "I know, of course, but don’t you ever imagine it? A life after the war, a future where Titans are just stories we tell our children." Levi's expression softened, a fleeting hint of wistfulness in his eyes.

"Like sometimes I think if I had children, I’d take them to play by the oceans, make adorable lunch sets," you continued, "how beautiful they would look if they had your eyes…" Embarrassment started flushing up as you realised you rambled on way too far.

His eyes widened imperceptibly, caught completely off guard by your comment.

"WAIT, that didn’t come out right. I didn’t mean having them with YOU, of course... definitely not…" You trailed off, a splash of pink painfully obvious on your cheeks. Get yourself together y/n, what on earth are you saying to your captain?

“Ouch.” A flicker of disappointment crossed his features. Levi cleared his throat, seemingly caught in the unexpected turn of the conversation. "Well aren’t you very in objection to that idea." he snickered, hiding a trace of sorrow beneath his face.

“Nevermind, I’m sorry, please forget what I said." You apologised in the tense atmosphere.

But Levi didn't dismiss it. Instead, his mind seemingly remained lost in contemplation. "How will your children have my eyes, if they don't have my genetics?" Determined to disprove your faulty reasoning.

You chuckled nervously, "I just mean I hope they’ll be a pretty colour, and delicate shape, like yours."

Levi displayed a rare vulnerability in his expression. He had never given thought to the aesthetic of his eyes; they were simply a part of him, a feature he never considered noteworthy. This was the first time he had received a compliment about them, and it left him momentarily speechless.

"At this rate, my most optimistic guesstimate is that I’ll be slaying titans till I’m 60." You broke the awkwardness joking, "in that case I might not be able to have kids, doubt any man would still take my crinkled self on a date anyway."

"Why not?" Levi replied seriously, his voice a soft echo in the tranquil night. "I won't be even a tiny bit surprised if you're still this beautiful at 85."

A blood-bathed blush adorned your complexion, stomach filling with butterflies and warmth, brain connections zapping around - wondering if he really thought that way, or,

“you’re just saying that.”

Levi sighed, “in all your years of knowing me, when have I ever felt obliged to tell a white lie, Comrade?”

"Right…” You muttered, with all sorts of thoughts doing laps beneath your skull, trying to continue the conversation as level-headed as possible. “Perhaps I'll meet my first love at 99,” a giggle escaping your breath as you joked.

Unexpectedly, Levi's response carried a weight that belied the casual banter. "Well. I think people can be in love without being in a formal relationship. You could easily have your first love now."

Your gaze laid upon his side profile, slightly puzzled by his logic, "but how can you be in love with someone without holding hands, saying mushy things, and all that?"

His head turned towards you, a moment of silence filling the air with eyes drilling into yours, revealing a sincerity that tugged at your heart. "I definitely can."

[storiesfromgaza]

It is very important to read this and share it

Today the Euro-Mediterranean Human Rights Monitor Observatory stated that Israel dropped over 25,000 tons of explosives on the Gaza Strip as part of its ongoing extensive war since October 7th, equivalent to two nuclear bombs.

The Euro-Mediterranean Human Rights Observatory, based in Geneva, highlighted the Israeli army's acknowledgment of targeting more than 12,000 objectives in the Gaza Strip, setting a record in the number of bombs dropped, surpassing 10 kilograms of explosives per person.

With the advancements in bomb quantity and effectiveness, while maintaining a consistent amount of explosives, the quantity dropped on Gaza could be equivalent to twice the power of a nuclear bomb.

Additionally, Israel deliberately employs a mixture known as "RDX" (Research Department Explosive) commonly referred to as "the science of complete explosives," with a power equal to 1.34 times that of TNT.

This means that the destructive power of the explosives dropped on Gaza exceeds what was dropped on Hiroshima, taking into account that the city of Hiroshima covers an area of 900 square kilometers, while Gaza's area is no more than 360 square kilometers.

Furthermore, Israel has been documented using internationally banned weapons in its attacks on the Gaza Strip, particularly cluster and white phosphorus bombs. White phosphorus is a highly toxic incendiary substance that rapidly reacts with oxygen, causing severe second and third-degree burns. The Euro-Mediterranean team has documented cases of injuries among the victims of Israeli attacks that resemble the effects of dangerous cluster bombs, as they contain small high-explosive submunitions designed to penetrate the body and cause internal explosions, resulting in severe burns that melt the victims' skin and sometimes lead to death. These submunitions also cause peculiar swelling and toxin exposure in the body, including transparent shrapnel that does not appear in X-ray images.

The Euro-Mediterranean Human Rights Observatory has emphasized that Israel's destructive, indiscriminate, and disproportionate attacks constitute a clear violation of the laws of war and the rules of international humanitarian law, which stipulate the obligation to protect civilians in all circumstances and under any conditions. Killing civilians is considered a war crime in both international and non-international armed conflicts and can rise to the level of a crime against humanity.

The 1899 and 1907 Hague Conventions, along with the 1949 Geneva Convention in its latest formulation, established fundamental human rights during wartime to limit the deadly health consequences of internationally banned weapons, some of which could lead to the "genocide" of civilians.

Article 25 of the Hague Regulations concerning the Laws and Customs of War on Land prohibits "attacking or bombarding towns, villages, dwellings, or buildings which are not defended."

Article 53 of the Fourth Geneva Convention states that "any destruction by the occupying power of real or personal property belonging individually or collectively to private persons, or to the State, or to other public authorities, or to social or cooperative organizations, is prohibited, except where such destruction is rendered absolutely necessary by military operations."

According to Article 147 of the Fourth Geneva Convention, the destruction of property that is not justified by military necessity and on a large scale is considered a serious violation that requires prosecution. Such practices are also classified as war crimes under the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court.

The Euro-Mediterranean Human Rights Observatory has called for the formation of an independent international investigative committee to assess the magnitude of explosives and internationally banned weapons used and continue to be used by Israel against civilians in the Gaza Strip.

This committee would hold accountable those responsible, including those who issued orders, made plans, executed actions, and took measures aimed at achieving justice for Palestinian victims.