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reasonsforhope · 7 months

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Legit though, we should start turning ecosystem restoration and work to make our world more tolerant to the effects of climate change into annual holidays and festivals

Like how just about every culture used to have festivals to celebrate the beginning of the harvest or its end, or the beginning of planting, or how whole communities used to host barn raisings and quilting bees - everyone coming together at once to turn the work of months or years into the work of a few days

Humble suggestions for festival types:

Goat festival

Besides controlled burns (which you can't do if there's too much dead brush), the fastest, most effective, and most cost-efficient way to clear brush before fire season - esp really heavy dead brush - is to just. Put a bunch of goats on your land for a few days!

Remember that Shark Tank competitor who wanted to start a goat rental company, and everyone was like wtf? There was even a whole John Oliver bit making fun of the idea? Well THAT JUST PROVES THEY'RE FROM NICE WET PLACES, because goat rental companies are totally a thing, and they're great.

So like. Why don't we have a weekend where everyone with goats just takes those goats to the nearest land that needs a ton of clearing? Public officials could put up maps of where on public lands grazing is needed, and where it definitely shouldn't happen. Farmers and people/groups with a lot of acres that need clearing can post Goat Requests.

Little kids can make goat-themed crafts and give the goats lots of pets or treats at the end of the day for doing such a good job. Volunteers can help wrangle things so goats don't get where they're not supposed to (and everyone fences off land nowadays anyway, mostly). And the goats, of course, would be in fucking banquet paradise.

Planting Festival and Harvest Festival

Why mess with success??? Bring these back where they've disappeared!!! Time to swarm the community gardens and help everyone near you with a farm make sure that all of their seeds are sown and none of the food goes to waste in the fields, decaying and unpicked.

And then set up distribution parts of the festival so all the extra food gets where it needs to be! Boxes of free lemons in front of your house because you have 80 goddamned lemons are great, but you know what else would be great? An organized effort to take that shit to food pantries (which SUPER rarely get fresh produce, because they can't hold anything perishable for long at all) and community/farmer's markets

Rain Capture Festival

The "water year" - how we track annual rainfall and precipitation - is offset from the regular calendar year because, like, that's just when water cycles through the ecosystems (e.g. meltwater). At least in the US, the water year is October 1st through September 30th of the next year, because October 1st is around when all the snowmelt from last year is gone, and a new cycle is starting as rain begins to fall again in earnest.

So why don't we all have a big barn raising equivalent every September to build rain capture infrastructure?

Team up with some neighbors to turn one of those little grass strips on the sidewalk into a rain-garden with fall-planting plants. Go down to your local church and help them install some gutters and rain barrels. Help deculvert rivers so they run through the dirt again, and make sure all the storm drains in your neighborhood are nice and clear.

Even better, all of this - ESPECIALLY the rain gardens - will also help a ton with flood control!

I'm so serious about how cool this could be, yall.

And people who can't or don't want to do physical stuff for any of these festivals could volunteer to watch children or cook food for the festival or whatever else might need to be done!

Parties afterward to celebrate all the good work done! Community building and direct local improvements to help protect ourselves from climate change!

The possibilities are literally endless, so not to sound like an influencer or some shit, but please DO comment or reply or put it in the notes if you have thoughts, esp on other things we could hold festivals like this for.

Canning festivals. "Dig your elderly neighbors out of the snow" festivals. Endangered species nesting count festival. Plant fruit trees on public land and parks festival. All of the things that I don't know anywhere near enough to think of. Especially in more niche or extreme ecosystems, there are so many possibilities that could do a lot of good

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menlove · 2 months

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"this person uses a label I don't like and this makes me uncomfortable so they need to stop" okay and business majors make me uncomfortable but I'm not gonna tell them to go kill themselves about it. get so much of a grip.

#label discourse is the single most stupid discourse in the modern queer community #do any of them ever get tired 😭

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lichdolly · 11 months

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Miho Matsuda - Solder OP (2002)

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fairuzfan · 6 months

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#poetry is an act of resistance #speaking is resistance #dont let anyone make you feel bad for speaking up about Palestine #those who say things like “blogging isnt activism” are afraid of your words more than anything #even a post which is a modern form of communication and incredibly important #is an act of resistance

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simsimulation · 2 months

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Laia's mid century home in Oasis Springs. 🌵

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #ts4 simblr #ts4 gameplay #sims 4 gameplay #ts4 interiors #ts4 screenshots #sims 4 screenshots #ts4 edit #ts4 interior #the sims community #black simblr #mid centruy modern #the spencers #oasis springs

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brennenscolby · 1 year

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Rough. || könig

Summary: you made a grave mistake telling your husband to get rough with you.

A/N: you guys keep asking, I keep giving. I’m so feral for this man it’s so bad :(

Wc: 1k +

Content: MAJOR SPIT KINK, overstimulation, creampie, praise, Dom! Konig, teasing, dirty talk, breats play, breast fetish, rough sex, spanking, anal play.

Pairings: König x Female! Reader

Minors DO NOT interact

————

The expanse of your exposed back shimmered with perspiration as your plump breasts pressed firmly against the pink rabbit plushie beneath your form, staining the surface of the fabric with abundant drops of sweat.

Heavy pants fell from your kiss-bitten lips, growing more frequent as your husband’s hips harshly slapped against your jiggling ass cheeks, prompting a rumble of flesh to echo across your shared bedroom. A soaked spot resided below the moans and groans bouncing across the room, containing reminants of pre-cum and arousal of which spilled from your used pussy moments prior. It’s been hours since he started fucking you like this and he hasn’t let you cum yet. Not after what you said to trigger the event in place.

“I want you to be rougher with me. We have gentle sex all the time. I don’t want that anymore.”

“Is this what you Fuckin’ wanted, schatz?” He barked, lips attacking the juncture between your jaw and neck as he continued pumping his heavy, thick cock deep within your spongy, velvety walls. “Ich werde deinen perfekten kleinen Körper beanspruchen”, he rasped with gritted teeth. You mumbled incoherently, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you desperately yearned to release on your husband. Stray hairs stuck to your sweaty visage, making you look all the more gorgeous in the eyes of the man that solely got to witness the pleasured looks and lewd glances which appeared on your face from his own ministrations.

“Speak up.” A broad hand snatched your face in a vice-like grip, fingers wedging to squish your cheeks.

“Y-you’re so b-big!” You babbled, eyes sparkling as they met his own. He smirked darkly at your angelic face and rolled his hips oh so tenderly, forcing you to sputter as drops of arousal spilled onto the dampened sheets beneath your forms.

“Hmm!” your pink tongue lolled out of your gaping mouth, of which contained traces of smeared crimson lipstick trailing up to your cheek. Your mind drifted in and out of an otherworldly state, thoughts swirling to mush at the presence of the veiny, fat cock bullying its way into your poor little pussy.

“You’re always so tight, sweetheart.”

You let out a cute little whimper of which König took as a sign of your pleasure. He nipped at your ear hotly, teeth grazing just the tip to stem another desperate mewl from your salivating mouth.

“Good girl.” he cooed, mocking the desperation in your voice.

Your dampened eyes snapped open, feeling as rough palms suddenly prodded your plush, ass cheeks apart, exposing them to your husband’s piercing gaze. You whined and squirmed, desperately clawing the sheets in front of you before feeling your back suddenly stiffen as a glob of spit dripped down your asshole and to the space where your wet pussy tightly stretched around his pulsing cock.

“K-konig!” You wailed, tears messily dripping down your flushed cheeks in zigzagged trails. Embarrassment colored your bashful face as you hid into the mattress below. The translucent substance smeared between the cleavage, and you squealed the second a harsh slap smacked against your reddened ass.

A rumble of deep laughter vibrated in your ear and down your shivering back, going as far as to course through your body and down to your twitching, throbbing clit. He hummed seductively, pressing the hardened abs of his stomach against the flesh of your lower back.

“I know you like it when I do that, liebling.” Your husband sighed huskily, pulling the head of his heavy cock back out of your cum covered cunt, leaving the stretched hole of your inviting cunt abandoned and puckering for attention, before roughly plunging your tensing walls apart, a loud squishing sound following from your mixed, dripping juices.

“F-fuck”, you gasped, grasping your colorful pillow to your pounding chest tightly, only to feel the sensitive buds of your tits rake against the material in spouts of stimulation.

“Cute little asshole twitching all f’me.” his accent rasped and you whined adorably in reply, the heat from your dewy cheeks shimmering down on your moistened collarbones. He hoisted his body forward, the bulky build of his torso fully encapsulating your small, nimble form as he cruelly curled a muscled arm around your delicate neck, the other tracing its appendages down to rub soothing circles on your clit.

Your heart skipped a beat at his embrace, adrenaline coursing through your veins. He continued using your body like an instrument, forcefully propelling his soaked pelvis so that his cock skimmed your insides in the most delicious of ways.

Your husband moaned upon catching your watery orbs, snickering the second three of his appendages suddenly slipped into your mouth. You sputtered and choked in surprise, chest heaving as your eyes fluttering closed before you obediently suckled the thick fingers in your heated cavern.

“Mmm!”, you moaned sweetly, tears rolling down your heated cheeks and collecting beneath your saliva covered chin.

“You’re so fuckin’ cute, Schatz.” he grunted, rolling his hips back to sharply thrust back in, smacking against the plushy place against the upper wall of your cunt powerfully enough to make the springy bed you leaned on, squeak.

“Can’t believe this cute pussy is all mein.”

Whiney little mewls escaped your lips and rumbled against his fingers as he continued plunging into your pussy, the walls clenching around the intrusion of his slippery dick as he chuckled below his breath from your mindless hiccuping and sputtering moans.

“You feel s’ good, liebling.” he groaned, the flesh surrounding his pelvis and the v lines of his sturdy hips were smothered in your glistening arousal, which he moaned fondly of the second he felt more of it splatter onto the muscles of his upper thighs and his spamming balls.

“You gonna make this pretty pussy cum on my cock, ja Süße?” You nodded dumbly, the pads of your fingers scrambling to grab at the flexed muscled arm wrapped around your neck. “Y-yea- ahh¡”

“Yes what?”, he challenged, azure eyes calculatingly staring at the pleasured features of your cute face.

“Y-yes, my h-husband.” He smirked, his hand pinching and fondling a single bouncing breast.

“Mein. deine Fotze gehört ganz mir.”

You hastily pulled your quivering mouth away from his drenched fingers, a web of spit sticking to your chin as you choked and sputtered, the knot in your lower belly coiling at the sudden embrace of his cock pressing against the sweet, plump place in your pussy. Your back arched as your shaky thighs trembled, eyes pinching closed from the sudden orgasm which overcame your senses.

“I-I’m cumming!”, you mewled prettily, breathless from the slick coated balls that slapped firmly against your sweet, drizzled cunt.

“G-Gottverdammt. Shit.” König grunted lowly, the feeling of your throbbing walls squeezing his brimming, inflamed cock oh so deliciously, he began to pant the moment spurts of his hot, white cum splattered across the insides of your soft, gushy pussy. Angelic moans spewed from his mouth as he emptied himself in you, lovingly kissing your shoulder blade as his forehead lazily pressed on your matted spine. Weak movements from his hips pushed him to keep rutting against your puffy clit as he slowly pulled out, streaks of his seed splashing on the hood of your cunt.

König stood rigid against your sweaty back as you gulped for air, hands loosely planting on the white, crisp mattress cover below you before your senses finally regulated. Your tired body limply dropped on the bed and you looked at your husband expectantly, only to find yourself getting hoisted upwards by his strong hands.

Your face was approximately inches from his, and you began to feel self-conscious now that your rabbit plushie no longer shielded your full breasts from his intent gaze. You opened your half-lidded, fluttering eyes slowly, batting them innocently before feeling as the wind suddenly escaped your pounding chest. Hefty appendages dug into the hickies marked into the surrounding flesh of your neck, and you began to cry, fright shining in your doe-like eyes as your heart accelerated in anticipation.

“What did I say about making me cum, Schatz?”

—-

deine Fotze gehört ganz mir. - your cunt is all mine.

Ich werde deinen perfekten kleinen Körper beanspruchen - I’m gonna claim your perfect little body

Süße - sweet

Liebling - darling

Maus/mausi - mouse

Ja - yes

Schatz - treasure

Mein- mine

Gottverdammt - god dammit

#konig #konig smut #konig x you #konig x reader #konig modern warfare #konig x reader smut #konig call of duty #konig x female reader #konig mw2 #könig imagine #könig x fem reader #könig modern warfare #community label: mature

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ghostswoman · 7 months

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𝗞𝗢̈𝗡𝗜𝗚 is the type to push you down onto the bed with your upper body laying on the mattress and your hips and ass up in the air. As he pushes his strong hips against your bum as you can feel the outline of his dick pressing against your cunt,your wetness almost dripping through your panties and leggings. Chuckling lowly as he noticed how easily he could push you around and you would bend at his force like he wanted you to.

“Oh poor mausi are you already so wet for me hm?~” groping your ass cheeks with his strong hands as you softly whine at the roughness of his grip as you pressed yourself more back against him. Smirking under his mask as he just let out a deep hum while continuing to roughly massage your ass cheeks while you just are trying to not pounce on him to finally touch you where you needed him. “please..” letting out as soft whiney plea flee out of your mouth.

Letting his strong palm connect to your ass with a harsh spank as he just grabbed your hips harshly back pressing you fully against him. You could feel the hardness and heat against your pussy as you just crumble more under him and his will. “Patience is the key Schatz.” As he softly leaned down as his arm stretched over your head to hold himself up as his strong chest made contact with your arched back. “You know what happens when you get greedy liebling.”

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sinkovia · 2 months

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-`♡´- ANON ASK -`♡´-

Anon requested that the ask be posted after the fic.

Pairings: SImon Riley x GN!Reader

Warnings: Angst.

As the days passed by, your once perfect relationship with Simon began to fracture. It seemed as though the idyllic days you once shared were slipping away, replaced by a constant tension that hung heavy in the air.

The source of the arguments seems to stem from your "nagging," as Simon puts it. But to you, it's an expression of love and fear - a desperate attempt to hold onto something precious in a world where loss and danger lurk around every corner.

From the beginning, you both understood the risks in your line of work, but it's only recently that the reality of those risks has begun to weigh heavily on your heart.

You've voiced your fears to Simon, your desire to retire together and find solace in a life far removed from the dangers of combat. But each time you broach the subject, Simon's reaction is the same - cold, defensive, and laced with hurtful words that cut deep. It's a cycle that plays out time and time again: he pushes you away with his sharp words, only to come crawling back the next day, remorseful and apologetic.

In those moments of reconciliation, he speaks to you with tenderness and warmth, promising that he's always careful on missions and that this is the life he wants. He reassures you that perhaps, in a few years' time, he could think about settling down. And each time, you find yourself giving in, desperate to believe that his words hold truth.

But as the fear and dread of losing him creep back in, the same arguments resurface, and the cycle repeats itself endlessly, leaving you trapped in a loop of hope and despair.

The tension in your life reaches a boiling point when you're summoned to the briefing room, where Captain Price lays out the details of a harrowing mission. Your heart sinks as you realize the gravity of the task at hand - infiltrating the heart of Makarov's forces, your fluency in Russian making you the only person who could do it. It's a suicide mission, with slim chances of success and even slimmer chances of survival.

As Captain Price outlines the high-risk, high-reward nature of the operation, your mind races with conflicting emotions. On one hand, success could mean a significant blow to Makarov's forces, potentially saving countless lives and shifting the tide of the war. On the other hand, the thought of risking your life - and potentially throwing away any chance of a future with Simon - fills you with fear.

You weigh the options carefully, torn between duty and personal desire. The stakes couldn't be higher, and the choice before you feels like a cruel test of loyalty and sacrifice. As you leave the briefing room, the weight of the decision hangs heavy on your shoulders, uncertainty clouding your thoughts as you grapple with the choice before you.

You step into your shared apartment, the weight of the impending conversation heavy on your shoulders. Simon is seated on the couch, absorbed in the television. With a heavy sigh, you make your way over and take a seat next to him, steeling yourself for what's to come.

"We need to talk, Si,"

Simon sighs and reaches to turn off the TV, a resigned expression crossing his features. "Here we go again," he mutters under his breath.

Your heart sinks at his dismissive tone, but you push forward nonetheless. “Price gave me a solo mission,” you watch his reaction closely.

Simon quirks a brow but remains silent, prompting you to continue. “He wants me to infiltrate Makarov's forces,”

“Sounds risky,” Simon comments, his tone neutral as he leans back on the couch, crossing his arms. You take a deep breath, "It's a suicide mission," you confess, locking eyes with him, searching for any sign of understanding or concern.

Silence hangs in the air as you wait for his response, “When do you leave?” he asks, his response devoid of the emotion you had hoped for.

Does he even hear you? Does he even care?

“Did you hear what I said? It’s a suicide mission. Do you even care Simon?” you press, desperation creeping into your voice.

Simon releases a frustrated breath, irritation evident in his demeanor. “Of course, I fucking care, y/n. But like I've said a million times before, we chose this profession. We know the risks that come with our job. Any of our missions could easily turn into a suicide mission.”

Your heart sinks at his callous response, the weight of his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “And if I died on a mission, would you be okay with that? With living without me? With going on with life without me?!” you challenge, tears welling in your eyes.

“Seeing how you're always fucking nagging me, yeah, maybe I’d be okay with that!” Simon's harsh words cut through you like a knife, leaving you reeling in disbelief.

Your lip quivers, and you shake your head, unable to comprehend the cruelty of his words. “You're being mean. You don’t mean that Si, I know you don’t,” you protest, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I do. I mean every fucking word,” Simon retorts, his voice rising in anger. “Do you know how easy it would be to find someone else who will give me what I want? I can never get peace when you're around. We are done, y/n. Don't bother coming home after your mission.”

The finality of his words crushes you, leaving you speechless and broken. With tears streaming down your face, you cover your mouth with your hand, muffling the sobs that threaten to escape. Simon turns on his heel and storms out of the apartment, leaving you alone in the wake of his harsh words.

With a heavy heart, you rise from the couch and make your way to your room, your mind consumed by the weight of the decision ahead. As you gather the necessities for the mission, a wave of despair washes over you.

If Simon wasn't in your life, what else did you have to live for? There had been multiple missions you had turned down in the past, knowing they were nothing but one-way trips. But now, without Simon by your side, there was nothing holding you back.

Stepping into Price’s office, you steel yourself for the conversation ahead. You inform him of your decision to go through with the mission, his surprise is evident, but he and Laswell offer words of encouragement, instilling in you a sense of hope. With your skills as an infiltrator and your Russian background, they assure you that you stand a fighting chance. After all, who would suspect one of their own?

Despite the uncertainty and the weight of the task ahead, a glimmer of hope begins to flicker within you. Within a matter of hours, you find yourself on a plane headed to Russia, the gravity of your decision weighing heavily on your mind. Simon however remains oblivious to your departure, unaware of the path you've chosen.

Back at home, he returns that night with your favorite takeout and a bouquet of flowers, his heart heavy with remorse and determination. With each step, he replays his apology in his head, rehearsing the words he's been meaning to say. He knows he's messed up, and he's desperate to make things right. He wants to change, to be a better man for you.

Simon's mind swirls with thoughts of seeking therapy, of learning to control his temper and his sharp tongue. He knows he's hurt you deeply with his words, words he never truly meant. He loves you more than anything, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to prove it. But as he steps into the house, the atmosphere is heavy with silence. The air feels cold and unwelcoming.

“Y/n?” He calls out for you, his voice tinged with concern, but there's no response.

Worry gnaws at him as he wanders through the darkened rooms, searching for any sign of you. Finally, he enters the bedroom, and his heart sinks as he sees a note lying on the bed, illuminated by the faint light filtering in through the window. With trembling hands, he picks up the note, his heart pounding in his chest as he reads your words.

Simon,

By the time you read this, I'll be on a plane to Russia. I've made the decision to go through with it, despite the risks, and I wanted you to know why.

I've heard your words echoing in my mind, the ones about finding someone else who will give you what you want, about never getting peace when I'm around. And so, I've decided to honor your wishes. Once I finish this mission, I'll find my own place, and you won't have to deal with my constant nagging anymore. Your life will finally be at peace, just as you've always wanted.

I want you to know that I've always turned down these types of missions in the past. This isn't the first time Price has offered them to me. But if I had known sooner that you didn't care whether I went on them or not, I would have gone sooner. I'm sorry for making your life so miserable, for not realizing sooner that I was the problem.

I hope that you find peace now, Simon. I hope that you find someone who can give you what you want, someone who can make you happy. You deserve that much, at least.

Take care of yourself.

Yours always, Y/n

With each word, his heart sinks deeper, the weight of your words bearing down on him with crushing force. Tears blur his vision as he reads your farewell, your words cutting through him like a knife. The realization of the pain he's caused you hits him like a tidal wave, leaving him gasping for air as guilt gnaws at his conscience.

When he reaches the part where you promise to honor his wish and stay out of his life after your mission, Simon's heart shatters into a million pieces. The thought of you willingly walking away from him, all because of his own hurtful words and actions, is almost too much to bear.

He crumples the letter in his trembling hands, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs as he struggles to come to terms with the magnitude of his mistakes. The weight of regret hangs heavy in the air as he realizes the depth of the love he's lost, the love he may never have the chance to regain if you don’t come back from the mission.

The suicide mission.

In that moment, he breaks down completely, the full weight of his actions crashing over him like a tidal wave. Seeing how much he's hurt you, how much he's pushed you away to point that you accepted the mission, shatters him to his core.

With each tear that falls, Simon's resolve crumbles, replaced by a deep and profound sense of regret. He wishes he could turn back time, take back the hurtful words he's spoken, and hold you close, promising to never let you go. But it's too late now, and all he can do is sit in silence, praying to a higher form to keep you safe, to let you come back to him alive.

The next day, Simon walked into Price’s office, his heart heavy with worry and anticipation. He needed to know more about your mission, to find any shred of information that could ease his growing anxiety.

Price informed Simon that you had landed in Russia in the early morning hours. However, he delivered the news that communication would be sparse for at least a month. They had scheduled calls planned for updates on the mission status, but they would have to wait until the designated time for you to radio in.

Simon listened intently, understanding the protocol, but inside, fear and dread gnawed at him. The thought of you out there, alone and potentially in danger, filled him with a sense of helplessness.

As the first month passed, Simon waited patiently in the room with Price, every passing minute feeling like an eternity. But as the hours stretched on, there was no sign of communication from you. No Morse code, no call, no comm. Just silence.

Panic began to set in as Simon grappled with the uncertainty of your situation. He couldn't shake the feeling of unease, the nagging worry that something had gone terribly wrong. But Price remained steadfast in his confidence, assuring Simon that these things happened often, that perhaps you hadn't found the right opportunity to relay a message.

Despite Price's reassurances, Simon couldn't shake the sense of foreboding that gripped him. With each passing day, his fear for your safety only grew stronger, overshadowing any hope he tried to hold onto. But he knew he had to stay strong, to keep faith that you would return safely from your mission.

Month after month passed, and still, there was no word from you. Simon waited patiently by the phone in the comms room center, his heart heavy with worry and uncertainty. He refused to give up on you, clinging to the hope that you would come back to him, despite Price declaring you M.I.A.

Even as Price tried to reason with him, pointing out that none of your mission objectives had been completed in the time you had been gone, Simon remained steadfast in his belief that you were still out there, somewhere, fighting to return to him.

Even as the years passed Simon couldn't bring himself to accept the possibility that you might truly be gone, vanished from his life and the world forever. The thought of living in a world without you was unbearable, and Simon couldn't bear to entertain it.

The last words he had spoken to you echoed in his mind, haunting him with their cruelty. How could he have been so callous, so blind to the pain he was causing you?

Was this fate's cruel work, forcing him to confront the consequences of his actions? Was this punishment for his harsh words, for pushing you away when he should have pulled you close? Was this what he truly wanted, to be left alone in a world without you?

But even in the depths of his despair, Simon clung to a sliver of hope, refusing to let go of the belief that you would come back to him. He would wait for you, for as long as it took, holding onto the hope that one day, you would return to him and his world would be whole again.

Anon Ask- simon x reader but they are both in the military and reader gets assigned on a suicide mission but has a choice to go or not. reader and simon fight and then they decide to go. feel free not to do this no pressure!!! but if you will dont post the ask until after to make it a little angsty surprise!

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