#concrete solves problems

[xylospongium]

Adelard Dekker is basically Bob the Builder of tma-verse

[silverwhittlingknife]

superboy: the man of tomorrow 1 spoilers

(it's just one panel but below the cut just in case)

memory identification: go!

[medicinemane]

And maybe you'll be like "but if you don't trust businesses, how can you trust welfare?"

I fucking don't. My mom trying to get on food stamps fucked me up because a lady I never met without my permission got my SSN from my mom and started editing my files. My heart still races to this very second whenever I think about it, it kinda messed me up bad and I'll never ever ever see any kind of recourse

And I'm terrified that I'm gonna lose my medicaid just cause I inherited some money from my grandpa

And I've never even applied for disability cause it kinda doesn't matter finding out if I'd qualify or not cause of my depression, when the rules are so restrictive I don't know if I've even be allowed to keep my house

I do not fucking trust these things on a personal level. I feel like out of a lot of people I have the most to fear from them cause I'm on the edge of having things work, and that gets you punished

...but I need medicaid in order to have insurance (and when you strip out the finance side of medicaid, I love medicaid... they're honestly incredible insurance... I just... I just... dental is like 90% of why medicaid is so important to me, ever since I found out this state pays for it I've actually been able to do cleanings which is important to me cause I can't always get myself to brush)

And I think things like disability and food stamps are pretty damn important on a personal level, and honestly are also good for the economy cause they get people spending... it's practically a free cash infusion into the economy, cause these are people who need to buy stuff

There's just so much important stuff welfare does that it's worth dealing with government

No, what I want is more accountability so if someone gets my SSN from a 3rd party like my mom they're held to HIPPA styles standards where that's not ok to access my files without my permission (She changed my fucking address and tried to get medicaid to investigate me for fraud! Never even met me)

Like have some accountability there and in every situation

Secondly I want less punitive focused rules. I'd frankly prefer bezos get on disability than smack down some poor sod cause they got $2000 in the bank or cause their friend lets them live with them for free

If there's gonna be a cut off on these programs, it needs to be a solid step above the poverty line, cause... by definition I assume poverty line denotes kinda the minimum expected income people can reasonably live off of, and if you take away benefits people are gonna lose a chunk of money to covering that stuff themself, so you need a buffer before you kick people off

I don't fucking trust the government for a second, I've actively been fucked by them and on a personal level I avoid everything but medicaid and only that cause everything but the money is pleasant to deal with and I kinda need it (honestly if I was rich I'm not even kidding that I'd rather give medicaid like $400 a month than some insurance company, I sincerely like them as insurance)

But I'd trust them a lot more if they were less punitive, less out to hunt me down and gut me cause someone handed me a fiver or cause I started to get on my feet, and if government employees had concrete rules they had to follow that were actually transparent and enforced

Like 90% of my problems with welfare go away if they're held accountable and there's less "catch the welfare cheats" mentality going around

I don't trust the government in the slightest, but sadly there some jobs it kinda has to do, so I'd just rather force it to be an open book where the public can keep an eye on it and if they step out of line there's consequences (sort of like I don't trust most mega corps but happen to sometimes need stuff from them... did you know literally every cell service provider has been illegally selling shit like your location data to random people like bounty hunters, and the FCC just slapped them with a fine that's 0.02% of their yearly incomes and debated even doing that? I even can offer a source on that)

...I don't trust much of any authority cause they constantly fail me and kinda screw me. Don't trust doctors either, but I still gotta go to them, you know? ...they're just... they're real bad at listening... so many systems need systemic change

(You know who I really don't trust is the cops. I could point to so many examples. My uncle doesn't trust cops either, and he's an ex Fire and SWAT paramedic, he worked with them and we still got into a long conversation where he basically tore into them far better than I can)

(I don't trust authority that's not accountable)

[drysauce]

how do i say wyjebałem się na ostatniej prostej in english

[stickers-on-a-laptop]

............how much do the boukengers like this meme

[janicehsu22]

How to Deal with Forgetting Details During Competition

Emotions and feelings are inherently abstract. Relying solely on this abstract level when approaching problem-solving can create a challenge. Without a focus on specific details, grasping the problem comprehensively becomes difficult, impacting the effectiveness of its execution. Merely relying on emotions in practice often results in inconsistent quality and widely varying outcomes, leading to unstable results. Conversely, making problems more concrete offers a wealth of details. By meticulously considering and mastering each specific detail, success finds a solid foundation, thus facilitating easier achievement of goals.

Therefore, sudden lapses in recalling certain details may stem from excessive nervousness or overlooking these specifics during practice sessions. When competition demands meticulous attention to these details, neglecting them in preparation can make it arduous to swiftly recall them during the actual event, potentially leading to forgetfulness.

Hence, it’s crucial to devote more attention to these intricate details during practice. This ensures a better showcase of these elements during competitions, making them a pivotal factor in achieving victory.

There are a few things that you can do to help prevent forgetting details during a competition:

Practice under pressure. One of the best ways to prepare for the pressure of a competition is to practice under similar conditions. This could involve practicing in front of an audience or practicing with a timer.

Get a good night’s sleep. Getting enough sleep will help you stay alert and focused on the day of the competition.

Eat a healthy breakfast. Eating a healthy breakfast will give you the energy you need to perform at your best.

Take deep breaths. If you start to feel stressed or anxious, take a few deep breaths to calm yourself down.

Focus on the task at hand. When you are competing, it is important to focus on the task at hand and not let your mind wander.

Visualize yourself succeeding. Visualizing yourself performing well in the competition can help boost your confidence and reduce anxiety.

If you forget a detail during a competition, don’t panic. Take a deep breath and try to remember the details. If you can’t remember it, move on and focus on the task at hand.

[reasonsforhope]

As relentless rains pounded LA, the city’s “sponge” infrastructure helped gather 8.6 billion gallons of water—enough to sustain over 100,000 households for a year.

Earlier this month, the future fell on Los Angeles. A long band of moisture in the sky, known as an atmospheric river, dumped 9 inches of rain on the city over three days—over half of what the city typically gets in a year. It’s the kind of extreme rainfall that’ll get ever more extreme as the planet warms.

The city’s water managers, though, were ready and waiting. Like other urban areas around the world, in recent years LA has been transforming into a “sponge city,” replacing impermeable surfaces, like concrete, with permeable ones, like dirt and plants. It has also built out “spreading grounds,” where water accumulates and soaks into the earth.

With traditional dams and all that newfangled spongy infrastructure, between February 4 and 7 the metropolis captured 8.6 billion gallons of stormwater, enough to provide water to 106,000 households for a year. For the rainy season in total, LA has accumulated 14.7 billion gallons.

Long reliant on snowmelt and river water piped in from afar, LA is on a quest to produce as much water as it can locally. “There's going to be a lot more rain and a lot less snow, which is going to alter the way we capture snowmelt and the aqueduct water,” says Art Castro, manager of watershed management at the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power. “Dams and spreading grounds are the workhorses of local stormwater capture for either flood protection or water supply.”

Centuries of urban-planning dogma dictates using gutters, sewers, and other infrastructure to funnel rainwater out of a metropolis as quickly as possible to prevent flooding. Given the increasingly catastrophic urban flooding seen around the world, though, that clearly isn’t working anymore, so now planners are finding clever ways to capture stormwater, treating it as an asset instead of a liability. “The problem of urban hydrology is caused by a thousand small cuts,” says Michael Kiparsky, director of the Wheeler Water Institute at UC Berkeley. “No one driveway or roof in and of itself causes massive alteration of the hydrologic cycle. But combine millions of them in one area and it does. Maybe we can solve that problem with a thousand Band-Aids.”

Or in this case, sponges. The trick to making a city more absorbent is to add more gardens and other green spaces that allow water to percolate into underlying aquifers—porous subterranean materials that can hold water—which a city can then draw from in times of need. Engineers are also greening up medians and roadside areas to soak up the water that’d normally rush off streets, into sewers, and eventually out to sea...

To exploit all that free water falling from the sky, the LADWP has carved out big patches of brown in the concrete jungle. Stormwater is piped into these spreading grounds and accumulates in dirt basins. That allows it to slowly soak into the underlying aquifer, which acts as a sort of natural underground tank that can hold 28 billion gallons of water.

During a storm, the city is also gathering water in dams, some of which it diverts into the spreading grounds. “After the storm comes by, and it's a bright sunny day, you’ll still see water being released into a channel and diverted into the spreading grounds,” says Castro. That way, water moves from a reservoir where it’s exposed to sunlight and evaporation, into an aquifer where it’s banked safely underground.

On a smaller scale, LADWP has been experimenting with turning parks into mini spreading grounds, diverting stormwater there to soak into subterranean cisterns or chambers. It’s also deploying green spaces along roadways, which have the additional benefit of mitigating flooding in a neighborhood: The less concrete and the more dirt and plants, the more the built environment can soak up stormwater like the actual environment naturally does.

As an added benefit, deploying more of these green spaces, along with urban gardens, improves the mental health of residents. Plants here also “sweat,” cooling the area and beating back the urban heat island effect—the tendency for concrete to absorb solar energy and slowly release it at night. By reducing summer temperatures, you improve the physical health of residents. “The more trees, the more shade, the less heat island effect,” says Castro. “Sometimes when it’s 90 degrees in the middle of summer, it could get up to 110 underneath a bus stop.”

LA’s far from alone in going spongy. Pittsburgh is also deploying more rain gardens, and where they absolutely must have a hard surface—sidewalks, parking lots, etc.—they’re using special concrete bricks that allow water to seep through. And a growing number of municipalities are scrutinizing properties and charging owners fees if they have excessive impermeable surfaces like pavement, thus incentivizing the switch to permeable surfaces like plots of native plants or urban gardens for producing more food locally.

So the old way of stormwater management isn’t just increasingly dangerous and ineffective as the planet warms and storms get more intense—it stands in the way of a more beautiful, less sweltering, more sustainable urban landscape. LA, of all places, is showing the world there’s a better way.

-via Wired, February 19, 2024

[spraklecat]

sometimes i think about all the problems we could solve if we just mass tested “terminally online” or “late lazy sloppy” people for ADHD instead of mental health awareness being nebulous useless shit like uwu mindfullness ur loved it’s okay not to be okay

[headspace-hotel]

i am reading this paper about all the bombs and missiles and other weapons the USA govt gives to Israel, because I am trying to understand why we are doing this, and it makes me sick at heart—all this money and advanced technology, all poured into blowing human beings up. "When all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail"—how could billions and billions of dollars worth of the tools of violence NOT result in violence?

I don't feel any closer to understanding what is happening in terms of how it connects to concrete reasons in people's heads. The connection between giving a government billions of dollars in weapons and that government solving all of its problems with extreme violence seems very clear though.

USA policies toward the rest of the world keep being like "Yeah, we want to promote peace, but, like, this group of people is SO uniquely threatening and unreceptive to normal propositions of peace that we HAVE to wage endless war against them and commit atrocities." First it was "Japan will never surrender so we HAVE to nuke civilians," then it was Communists, then it was Terrorists, but it's the same thing.

I don't remember the world before 9/11, but I can look at and listen to art and music from before 9/11, and it seems like something terrible happened in USA culture, where once there was a strong "anti-war" sentiment and understanding of what war does to people, but within my lifetime, it's like no one has the audacity to imagine a world where endless war isn't "necessary." In high school my class mates were talking about seeing videos online of ISIS sawing peoples heads off and that was basically all I knew about "what was happening in the Middle East."

Does anybody even think about why peace signs are part of the 60's "aesthetic?"

I don't have any conclusion here. Have we lost the power to imagine anything different?

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

can you write a fic where emily is on her period, annoyed at work, irritated, and really needy but is lowkey embarrassed to ask reader for relief? reader basically then calls her silly and tells em she loves her always and then helps her? and heavy smut takes place

(reader also works at the bau)

thank u!! - and no problem at all if u don’t feel like writing this <3

I got u, anon! ❤️ Hope you enjoy! – illdowhatiwantthanks

Touchy

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, graphic sex, fingering, afab body parts, menstruation, explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 2.7k

Summary: You and Unit Chief Emily have had a secret thing going on for a while, but when she starts lashing out at you and the rest of the team, you suspect something's wrong. Turns out, it's something you are very capable of fixing. 😏

Emily sat hunched over a book that she clearly wasn’t reading, massaging her temples. She’d been touchy this whole trip. Touchy with the rest of the team, with local law enforcement. Thank god JJ was in charge of dealing with the press, or she would have been touchy with them, too. And now she was touchy on the jet.

Usually on the last night of a case, when the end was in sight or when you were headed home in the morning, or even on a night where she was frustrated that they hadn’t made progress, Emily would come to your room. She’d knock softly, in the dead of the night, slip into your room, into your bed, into your very body. And she’d be gone before your alarm went off in the morning.

You’d waited and waited last night for Emily to come to you, watching the minutes go by, then hours. You knew you hadn’t made any plans, nothing concrete. There was never anything concrete when the BAU was out on a case. But, nevertheless, you missed her. You missed the warmth of her body next to you, the way you’d talk and laugh about nothing while she sat in bed, naked, and smoked a cigarette after she’d thoroughly fucked your brains out. You missed the way she’d vent to you about the case or tell you something personal, something she wouldn’t tell anyone else, as you fell asleep together, tangled in some random hotel’s sheets.

You’d been seeing each other for months now and, outside of work, had some semblance of a typical relationship. But at work, you were just an agent and her unit chief. Friendly colleagues, at most. You and Emily were always careful to appear impartial. And you were profilers, so you were pretty good at avoiding tells that your relationship was more than it seemed on the outside. But you were worried about her today. She was angry and irritated and… not herself. You were trying to figure out a way to ask her what was wrong, but you couldn’t figure out how to move seats to be near her without arousing suspicion. Not to mention the fact that Emily would never tell another member of the team that something personal was going on. So she couldn’t tell you. Not here, not on the jet.

You tried not to look too interested when Reid sat down across from Emily, playing with the string on his sachet of green tea. “Are you okay, Emily?”

She made a noncommittal sound of affirmation, then muttered. “Just a headache.”

“You know,” he started, and you could just tell he was prepped for an educational monologue. “Headaches are simultaneously one of the easiest and one of the hardest medical maladies to solve, depending on their cause. There are over 50 reasons why one might have a headache, usually categorized into two overarching categories: primary and second–”

“Reid,” Emily snapped. “I am begging you to shut up unless you want to become one of the 50 causes of a headache.”

Reid shrank into himself, and you immediately felt sorry for him. Sure, he could come off as a know-it-all or annoying, but he was goodhearted and kind and smart and cared about the team. It wasn’t like Emily to belittle him.

When you’d all debarked from the plane and made your way to the parking lot, you waited for the other cars to peel out before approaching Emily’s. You tapped on her window and she rolled it down for you.

“What?” she growled.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you asked, voice full of concern. “You seem off.”

“I’m fine,” she stated. “God, I wish people would just fucking leave me alone today. And stop asking all these questions.”

You were taken aback, hurt. You weren’t “people.” You were, for all intents and purposes, her girlfriend, everywhere but at work.

“Well, um…” you stuttered, unsure how to proceed or respond. “Do you still want to come over tonight?” She almost always did the night after getting back from a case.

“Y/N,” she groaned, massaging her forehead. “No offense, babe, but what part of ‘I wish people would fucking leave me alone’ did you not get?”

You felt like crying, but you’d be damned if you were going to let Emily see it. “Whatever, Em.” You shook your head. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

You watched Emily zoom out of the parking lot and, once she was gone, you let yourself cry. At least it wasn’t just you she was upset with; clearly she had it out for everyone right now. But still… Emily was usually different with you. She was softer around the edges, kind and thoughtful, a little bit silly. This wasn’t like her at all.

The more you thought about it, the angrier you got. How fucking dare she blow you off like you were no one!? She’d been rude and dismissive and snappy and weird with everyone this whole trip and, dammit, she was not going to get away with being like that to you, too. Either something was wrong with her or something was wrong with the rest of you that had pissed her off. Either way, you were determined to figure it out. So when you sped out of the parking lot, teary and determined, you headed not to your apartment, but to Emily’s.

You knocked angrily on Emily’s door until she threw it open, looking as pissed as you’d ever seen her. “Y/N,” she said, frustration evident. “I told you I didn’t want to see you.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, pushing past her and into the apartment. “Sometimes you don’t get what you want.”

You poured yourself a glass from the open bottle of wine she had on the counter and took a sip. Emily stood across from you, still massaging her temples and looking generally annoyed.

“What, Y/N?” she groaned. “What do you want?”

You set your glass down so aggressively the wine sloshed a bit. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Emily!?” you railed. “You’re being so mean and so… not yourself. Is something going on!?”

She sighed heavily and lowered herself into a chair and, for a moment, you thought she might cry. You surged toward her and tucked her hair behind her ear, holding her face, softly, delicately, in case, as she had all day, she decided to pull away again.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” you said softly, your thumbs lightly tracing the circles under her eyes.

Emily leaned into your touch and you knew she was finally there, finally at a point where she’d stop fighting and let you in.

“I’ve got fucking fibroids…” she mumbled, avoiding your eyes. “And I’m on my period and… they’re always bad, but they just make it so much worse.”

“Em,” you sighed, letting her rest her head on your chest. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

“It’s embarrassing…”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Periods aren’t embarrassing, honey. They’re just a part of life. A shitty part.”

When she didn’t answer and kept her head buried in your chest, you started playing with her hair. “What do you need, huh? What’ll make you feel better? Do you have pain meds? You want to take a bath? Lie down for a bit?”

Emily pulled back and looked away, shrinking into herself.

“Hey, don’t start that again,” you scolded, taking her hand.

“Babe, just tell me. What do you need, hmm?”

She mumbled something under her breath, so quiet that you couldn’t catch it.

“What?”

“I need you to touch me,” she whispered, blushing furiously. “But that’s not fair of me to ask.”

You smiled, relieved. This is what Emily had been so frustrated about!? You chuckled and leaned forward to kiss her head, her cheek, then sunk your lips into hers. You felt elated by the way she grasped your shirt, the way she pulled into you.

When you broke apart, she was breathless, her pupils blown, but she still looked so deeply embarrassed, almost ashamed.

“Come on,” you said gently, leading her by the hand toward the bathroom. “And to think this whole time you were just really fucking horny.”

You turned on the shower, made sure it was the right temperature, and started stripping your clothes off.

“Wait, wait, what are you doing?!” Emily asked, leaning against the bathroom counter.

You stared at her. “What do you mean what am I doing?”

She gestured at your now nude body, as you folded your clothes into a messy pile.

“I’m getting in the shower,” you explained. “And you’re getting in the shower, and then I’m gonna make you come.”

If possible, Emily’s face reddened even more. “Uh… no,” she protested. “No, no. Did you miss the part where I said I was on my period?”

You gestured toward the steaming shower. “Did you miss the part where we’re in the shower so it doesn’t matter?”

“It does matter,” she argued. “I don’t– I’ve never… It’ll be messy, Y/N. I don’t want you to have to–”

You stared at her, mouth slightly agape. “You’ve never had sex on your period?”

She looked at the ground. “I… I mean, I guess I’ve never been with someone who… wanted to.”

Your heart broke then, just for a moment. For sweet, needy, embarrassed Emily, hugging herself in the corner of the bathroom.

“Well,” you said, approaching her and slipping your hands under her shirt. She gasped as you bent to suck on her neck. “That’s their loss.” You lifted her shirt over her head and unclasped her bra, quickly taking one of her nipples in your mouth. She moaned and sank her fingers into your hair. “I can assure you that I…” And you planted a kiss on her chest. “Very much…” You gently unzipped her pants and placed a kiss there, just below her stomach. “Want to.”

Emily pulled you back up and kissed you hungrily, desperately, as she kicked off the rest of her clothes, pushing you into the shower so she could discreetly remove her tampon. You pressed her up against the cool tile, letting the warm water rush over you both. It’s not that you were normally rough with Emily or vice versa, but you were careful to be particularly gentle with her tonight, knowing that her body was sensitive and in pain.

You kissed Emily slowly, deeply, making your way down her neck, across her chest, tracing slow, indulgent circles around her nipples as she let her head rest back against the tile. You could feel her heart beating underneath your tongue and it drove you wild.

When you crouched to move lower, holding yourself steady against her thighs, she pulled you back up, eyes pleading with you. “Just your hands. Please.”

You brushed a wet strand of hair off her forehead. “Are you sure?” You smirked. “I really don’t mind getting messy.”

“I know,” she replied, still breathing heavily as your thumbs drew circles against her hips. “But I mind.”

“Whatever you want, honey,” you breathed into her ear as you ran your fingers through her warm folds.

Emily shuddered and pressed her head into your shoulder, bucking involuntarily into your hand. You let your thumb idle around her clit, slow and rhythmic and gentle, until you had her panting and whining against you.

“More,” she begged, and you happily obliged, softly pressing two fingers into her pulsing entrance. You picked up speed as she pressed into you, her breath high and hitched, with small noises of effort and pleasure echoing around the shower.

“Wait, stop,” she gasped, even as she thrust into you. You stilled your movements, and waited for her to tell you what she wanted. “I feel like I might collapse,” she gasped.

“In a good way or a bad way?” you asked, both of you giggling.

“A good way, but…”

“Here,” you said, moving her arms so they were wrapped around your neck and inching forward so that your thigh was between her legs. You wrapped your free hand around her waist and planted a kiss on her neck. “I’ve got you, okay? I’m not gonna let you fall. Just let go, baby.”

Emily didn’t need any more encouragement, riding your fingers as if her very life depended on it. And when she finally reached her peak, when she finally let herself fall apart, nothing in the world could have made you let go of her. You held her up as she shook, her walls pulsing around your fingers, her mouth wide and warm against your shoulder.

“There you go,” you whispered, bringing her back down and planting fluttery kisses wherever you could reach as you held her steady. She shook against you, holding onto you, and when she finally found her way back to her feet, you kissed her again and again, all over.

“Feel better?” you asked her, cupping her face in your hands. She nodded and wrapped her arms around your neck in an embrace and, for a while, you just held her there, hot water pouring over you, heartbeats dwindling back to a normal rate.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice vibrating against your skin. She stood and looked at you apologetically. “Sorry I was such a bitch.”

You shook your head and kissed her again. “It’s okay. Everyone’s a bitch on their period.”

Your heart was in your throat as Emily let you wash her, let you lather shampoo into her hair and rub soap gently across her body, making sure she was clean and cared for. She was so soft under your touch, so soft and pliable, such a contrast to how she was at work with everyone else. She always acted so tough. And she was tough, but she could also be so soft. You loved that she was soft for you.

You dried her off, you kissed her shoulder, you told her to go ahead and get in bed, that’d you’d be right there. And when you returned and found her in bed with wet hair in an oversized t-shirt, you were struck by the realization that you never really wanted to go to bed with anyone else. That what you’d really like is to be in bed with Emily every night. Not just random nights on the road. Not just after the dates you spent at places you chose because it didn’t seem like any other member of your team would be there. You loved her. You were falling in love with her.

You handed her the glass of water you’d prepared in the kitchen, and thought about how not to accidentally tell her you loved her. She sipped gingerly at the edge of the bed and looked deeply at you.

“What?” you asked, shrinking under her gaze.

“Do you want to stay here?” she asked.

“Duh,” you replied, already climbing into bed next to her. “I always spend the night after. And we don’t have work tomorrow.”

“No, I mean…” She picked at her fingernails, avoiding your eyes. “Do you want to stay here… for good. Like, would you want to move in?”

You felt like the breath had been knocked out of you. “Are you serious?” you asked, gaping at her.

Emily shook her head. “Forget it. Sorry. It was a stupid question.”

“No, no!” You grabbed her hand and held it between both of hers. “I just… I didn’t know what this was for you. If you wanted to… keep it casual, I guess.”

She sighed and looked into your eyes and you knew then, you knew that whenever it slipped out, whenever you were ready to say it, she would say it back. “I haven’t been casual about you for a while now, Y/N.”

And you kissed her. You kissed her again and again, kissed her until she was giggling and squirming, until you had her wrapped in your arms under the covers.

And when she reached to turn the light out, when she curled into your body, you let your words venture out in the darkness, soft and quiet, almost imperceptible: “I love you.”

And like a light, her voice, vibrating against your skin as she fell asleep in your arms: “I love you, too.”

[compassionatereminders]

I have this tendency to postpone and avoid things that trigger my anxiety, but I'm starting to realize that it isn't doing me any favors. Because due to the nature of my anxiety, I will in fact be stressing about it until I face it. Whereas if I actually face it, it'll either be over and not half as bad as I expected, or there will be a concrete problem that I can take steps towards solving. Both of which are preferable to aimless, constant anxiety

[amtrak-official]

Literally every problem people have with cities no matter how petty is something that can be fixed in one way or another

Too much Grey? Paint the buildings

Not enough nature? Street trees and pocket parks are easy to install

Light Pollution? Cover street lamps and use energy efficient bulbs to power them

Too much Concrete? Brick Sidewalks are easy to install and require fewer repairs, additionally infill on parking lots significantly reduces the amount of concrete and creates usable space

High Rents? Land use reform and loosening of zoning restrictions was proven to work in Minneapolis

Too many people? The parks provide a calm escape from urban life and there are usually less trafficked parts of cities

Too noisy? Traffic Calming measures are incredibly effective in reducing sounds

Lack of Food availability? Build a community Garden

Crime? Stop over policing low income communities

Hard to get around and have bad traffic? Metros exist for a reason

Urban heat island effect? Plant some trees and build bike lanes to reduce car usage

Obviously none of these can instantly solve people's problems and these aren't the only solutions to these problems. But the point of this is just to show how our cities problems no matter how minor can be fixed or at least improved

[shrikeseams]

Silm time travel fixit fic where Curufin is spat out into his younger self fairly early in YoT, and when his efforts to solve the Noldor's political/ Melkor problems bear no fruit... he just fucks off to Alqualonde to apprentice as a ship-builder, because it's a concrete and fixable future problem.

[mindblowingscience]

Researchers on Wednesday said they were a step closer to solving one of the trickiest problems in tackling climate change—how to keep making cement despite its enormous carbon footprint.

In a world first, engineers from Britain's University of Cambridge have shown that cement can be recycled without the same steep cost to the environment as making it from scratch.

Cement binds concrete together but the whitish powder is highly carbon-intensive to produce, with the sector generating more than triple the emissions of global air travel.

Demand for concrete—already the most widely used construction material on Earth—is soaring, but the notoriously polluting industry has struggled to produce it in a less harmful way to the climate.

Continue Reading.

[blackswan446]

Hello Evieee!, im new to your blog but i already read lifetime and thief and i really like it. Can I request part 2 of lifetime where oc tries to escape and get punished by jungkook and then oc tries to be obedient then wants to request something that makes jungkook hesistant to consider? ☺️ thank you 💗

lifetime || two.

→ pairing: yan!jjk x reader

→ synopsis: we live for so many years, why not make them the happiest you can?

→ wc: 3584

→ cws: manipulation, guilttripping, murder, implied dub-con

→ notes: originally wasn't planning to do a part two on this cus i didn't have any ideas for what could be next, but this ask sparked inspiration so i'm really excited :)) thank you for asking!! <3 also the ending kind of suggests a part 3 and i have an idea for it but i dunno when it'll come out sooo

part one || m.list

the last three months seemingly dragged by like years. every second felt like a minute, and every minute felt like an hour. you were like a bird, skittish and anxious to escape the cage they had been locked in by a cruel captor.

to any outsider, your misery would come off as nothing but ingratitude and paint you as a finicky, spoiled brat. and honestly, you couldn't blame them for it. because anyone who peered through the tall glass windows of the luxurious mansion was bound to see just that--luxury. all they would see is the glass chandelier, the marble counters, and the endless indicators of money and class.

what they wouldn't see is the basement. the dark, damp, cold basement that you lived in--not physically, but mentally. you were trapped in this imaginary basement, and as much as you tried to claw at the concrete walls, and bang on the metal door, you couldn't escape it, not if you dedicated your entire life to it.

aside from the obvious, your life was perfect, at least by society's standards. you had everything you ever wanted and could get anything else you wanted at the drop of a hat. nice clothes, expensive jewelry, high-end makeup, flashy accessories. but you never really used them, since you didn't exactly leave the house, unless if it was time for you to play dress at one of jungkook's fancy work events, and cling onto his arm, following him around the whole night, your youth and beauty grabbing the attention of his rich business associates and peers, while you hoped that the pleading look in your eyes would alert the otherwise-blind millionaires to your distress.

since you didn't leave the house much, jungkook thought ahead and considered the inevitable boredom you would face. he stocked the house with as many hobby supplies as he could get his hands on. art, baking, reading, you name it, it's there. and anything that wasn't there would show up a mere hour after you requested it. not that you ever did, but jungkook practically bent over backwards to sweeten the pot for you, to put the rose colored glasses over your eyes and prove that being there with him was a good thing.

but none of this changed the fact that you were miserable. you missed the outside, you missed your life. you missed your achievements and the payoff of your hard work, which proved to do nothing for you inside of the prison you were trapped in. you missed the serenity of your street and the walk to your favorite coffee shop. you missed being human. physically you were a human, of course, but in your eyes, you felt as if you were nothing more than a shell, who didn't feel the pain of everyday problems and the joy of solving those problems. as much as you complained about them before, you would give anything to get out and feel those emotions again.

but after months of sulking, you finally had a plan. jungkook had placed security around the house--partly for his own protection and the safety of his house, and partly to keep you from getting out. you had never spoken to them, and they never spoke to you. but today, this would change. stuffing as many shiny jewels, expensive shoes, and silky dresses into the biggest and most expensive handbag you had in your closet, you put on a pair of basic shoes and the only black jacket you could find.

exiting the closet, you descended the grand stairs and looked around for the guard. not just any one in specific, but the one that stood by the front door. you needed to talk to this one only, it was crucial that you extended this offer to him and only him. why? you had overheard him talking in a hushed voice with a fellow guard, practically erupting with envy and awe at the house he found himself in. you knew he would fold immediately at what you had to offer and not say a word about it, which is why it was so important for you to talk to him.

you spotted him, in his usual spot by the door, staring straight forward with a blank look on his face. you took a deep breath, and approached him, and as you did, he shifted to stand more in front of the door. "do you need something?" he asked you. you looked around quickly, checking for any other witnesses before you began to speak.

"please, i need to get out of here. you need to let me leave." you pleaded quietly. the man shook his head. "no can do. i'm sorry." he said coldly, not even bothering to look at you. sighing, you held up the expensive handbag at rested at your side, and opened it to reveal the mess of jewels and fabric you that hid inside. "please," you repeated, "just let me out, and it's all yours. this, and whatever else you can grab from the closet before he comes home."

he peered into the bag, and he didn't need to say anything for you to know what he was thinking. but he didn't let up. shaking his head again, he returned his attention back to the house in front of him. you sighed in frustration. "please, i can't stay here anymore. you can tell him i jumped out of a window. you're not allowed to go up there anyways, right? you won't get blamed. besides, you can sell all this stuff, or give it to your wife, or-"

you were interrupted when the guard abruptly reached out and yanked the handbag from your trembling hands, holding it behind his tall figure. he didn't look down again, or say anything, but instead he stepped sideways, revealing the knob to the front door and the surprisingly simple latch that unlocked it. you laughed, out of relief and partial disbelief. the relief, though, was kind, and warm, and it washed over your mind like water and undid the tense knots in your body.

it was also very brief.

in that moment, the exact moment that you had regained your sweet freedom, one set of footsteps managed to make it crash down around you. "princess, is that you?" jungkook called, swiftly entering the foyer where you and the guard stood, caught red-handed in your scheme. you whipped around quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly, and your guilty eyes met his suspicious ones. "what's going on here?..." he trailed off, taking in the sight of you in tennis shoes and a jacket, and the guard holding a very familiar, very expensive handbag behind his back.

inhaling deeply, an eerie calm took over the man, his earlier confusion evaporating as he put the pieces together. you swallowed thickly, heartbeat deafening in your ears as he looked back and forth between the two of you. without a word, he grabbed you by the bicep and yanked you closer to him, the clean soles of your sneakers squeaking on the shiny floor. he then stuck his hand out towards the guard, fingers open as he shamefully returned the bag. "i deeply apologize, sir. i was wro-"

"stay here, mr. ahn. i'd like to have a word with you later." jungkook said coldly, turning on his heel to ascend the stairs behind him, dragging you with him. you glanced down from the top of the stairs at mr. ahn, who wore a look that could only be described as pure terror. he knew what was next for him, he knew that he had messed up beyond repair.

leading you down the maze of hallways and identical doors, jungkook finally stopped at a new one, and also the biggest one you had seen, which was obviously his own room. shoving you forwards towards the bed, which was on the other side of the grand room, he pushed you down to sit on the edge of the bed and went to shut and lock the door behind him. it wasn't until he had returned, and took a seat next to your shaky figure, that he spoke.

"i'm not mad, princess." he said calmly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "i'm just confused. why would you try and escape? what were you thinking?" he asked himself, scoffing in annoyance. "are you really that unhappy?"

you turned your head to him, slowly, and stared at him in utter disbelief. "i mean, i knew you would need time to adjust. but running away from me? after everything i've done for you?" he continued, shaking his head. "why did you do it, angel? just tell me. why'd you try and leave me?"

"because this place is a prison. you kidnap me, and take me away from everything i've ever loved, and lock me in this cage, and try to distract me with all these fancy clothes that i can't even wear to anywhere, and give me these stupid ass baking pans, and art canvases, just to try and dumb me down, and make me forget what you did to me! so you tell me, jungkook. why do you think i tried to run away?" you exploded, giving him a nasty glare as he nodded slowly, in a way that made him look more amused than anything.

"is that what you think it is? a prison? after everything i've done for you. the money i've spent. the blood that has been shed, the dirty blood of that whore, that i watched pour from her head after i hit her. i do all of that just for you, and this is how you repay me?" he seethed. "honestly, [name], i'm hurt. i thought you would be happier here, but apparently, i was wrong." he said, the white-hot tone of his voice now gone and replaced by a remorseful murmur. your glimmer of hope shined through once again at the idea you thought he was suggesting.

"i know i shouldn't be mad at you. it's all my fault that you're so unhappy here. all alone, all day long. it must be awful. you must be so lonely." he said quietly, fiddling with his hands as he stared down at his shoes. "i'm so sorry, [name]." you didn't respond to his apology, and you let it bounce off your heart and onto the floor in front of you. "i'm going to do so much better. okay? i know what i can do!" he smiled, a wicked idea forming in his mind. "i can change my position at work, and instead of going there everyday, i can do my work here, and stay home with you!" he exclaimed, smiling proudly at his new plan. your heart sunk to the floor at his words. the last thing you needed was jungkook sticking around here with you all day long.

you shook your head. "no, jungkook. you don't-you don't need to do that." he waved his hands in denial. "nope," he vetoed, "it's decided. i'm telling everybody tonight. trust me, princess, this is for the best." he sighed contentedly, before his voice got low and serious. he stood up from his spot next to you, and stood right in front of you. "now, we may have solved the problem, but we still need to address what happened earlier. what you did isn't okay, angel. it was rude, and stupid, and it hurt me a lot. how do you think that makes me feel as a provider? as someone who loves you? honestly, [name], do you enjoy hurting people like that?" he asked.

though you had tried to resist it, the dagger of guilt had managed to stab you, right in the gut. jungkook sounded hurt, and the way he put things made you feel like a total piece of shit. you shook your head again. "but, you're not the only one who did something wrong. mr. ahn's actions told me all i need to know about his loyalty and how much he cares about his job. so the only right thing to do now is punish those who were wrong. that sounds fair, doesn't it?" he asked innocently. you nodded, stomach sinking at the direction this was going in. "use your words." he commanded, putting a firm hand on your shoulder. "yes, that sounds fair." you whispered weakly.

"now, there are...a few ways...i could punish you right now. but you're not the only one who messed up. and besides, i think those other ways would be better reserved for when we're home together. yeah?" he joked, the smirk potent in his sweet voice. "so here's what we'll do. mr. ahn was unloyal to me. he didn't do what i asked him to, and i don't go for that. but, i'm going to leave it up to you,"

"should i go and kill mr. ahn right now, or,"

you shook your head frantically. "jungkook, no. please, don't. it's my fault, okay? i'm sorry." you pleaded. he nodded. "yeah, princess, it is your fault. and now, you're paying the price. so, i could go and kill him right now, or,

i could burn down this entire house with everybody in it, including us."

your stomach lurched at the sick words that fell from his mouth so easily. tears brimmed your eyes, blurring the glow of the chandelier above you into a mess of golden light and black suit fabric as you looked up in disbelief. it felt like every organ in your body somehow stopped working and kicked into overdrive all at once. "please, jungkook. you don't have to kill anybody. please, i'm sorry. it's my fault. just do whatever you said earlier to me. please, don't hurt anybody else." you choked out, cheeks slick with tears.

he shook his head. "those are the only two options for you, princess. i like your enthusiasm, though. so what'll it be? kill one man who deserves it, or bring down ten other innocent people, including yourself?" he probed, pushing your jaw up to look at him. "now, [name], or i'll choose for you." he warned.

"the first one!" you spat. "now, which one was that? don't be shy, princess, i want to hear that sweet voice of yours." he teased, smirking at your distress. "kill mr. ahn." you said weakly, your blurry vision just able to make out the smug grin on jungkook's face. he shrugged nonchalantly, dropping your jaw from his hands and letting it fall as you laid your head in your hands, barely biting back uncontrollable, heaving sobs. "if you say so."

he left, strides long and shoulders back, and the seconds once again felt like hours as you were left alone in the unbearable silence. though you preferred deafening silence over what was next. the yelps of pain, the pleas, and the deafening sound of bones cracking and bloody knuckles meeting bruised flesh. even from a floor away, you could hear the atrocity from the bedroom. you clasped your hands over your ears, hoping the blockage and the sound of your own crying would mute the tortuous sounds.

after a disturbingly short amount of time, you heard the thrashing and struggling grind to a stop. taking your shaky hands away from your red ears, you pulled them close to your chest, crinkling back into a fetal position on the bed as your wails echoed off the walls of the bedroom. tears flooded from your eyes, onto the fabric of the comforter and into your hair, and only got worse as you heard the sound of dreaded footsteps drawing closer to the bedroom.

as you wallowed in the pits of hellish guilt, you made a promise, to both yourself and to everybody else that stood in the unpredictable path of jungkook's rage and violence.

this was never going to happen again.

❀⊱ ═════════════════ ⋆★⋆ ═════════════════ ⊰❀

this time, you were confident. there was no way your plan could go wrong. this was your guaranteed ticket to freedom.

you spent months being obedient. conforming yourself to be the perfect one for him. ever since that horrific day, when an innocent man died because of your careless decision, you committed yourself to the mission of making sure something like that never, ever happened again, not if you could help it.

so you listened. you let him say whatever he wanted, do whatever he wanted. you were more than just his ragdoll, though, you played along. you smiled at him sweetly, and listened to his words, and told him you loved him with a kiss on the cheek every night before sleeping.

of course, it made you sick. knowing the hands that grabbed your waist and played with your hair and made you dinner and everything in between were the same ones that brutally ended the life of innocent people made your stomach twist in ways it never had before, and you hated it.

every night, you felt so marked, so unpure, so dirty. like the blood that he washed down the drain like nothing that day had stayed on his hands and left smudgy, sticky handprints all over you. but maybe, just maybe, your trying days and sleepless nights would finally pay off.

knocking softly on the wooden door, you didn't need to wait for jungkook to respond before you opened the door. looking up, he smiled happily as he saw you come towards him. "there you are, princess!" he greeted, closing his laptop as you smiled back at him. you greeted him quietly as you shut the door behind you. "come sit, darling." he beckoned, tapping his lap as he pushed his chair out, "i missed you today."

you obliged, a sharp tinge of disgust striking through your heart as you straddled his lap, resting your chin on his shoulder. he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him and sighing deeply. "how was your day? do anything interesting? i wish i could've stayed with you today." he said wistfully, rubbing his hands up and down your back gently.

you shook your head. "not really. it was good, though." you replied. sitting back, you met his eyes, the hesitated look on your face acting as the dangling carrot in front of the hungry rabbit. "what is it, sweetheart? you look sad."

you shrugged. "oh, i don't know. it's kind of silly. don't worry about it." you chuckled, fiddling with your fingers as you spoke. eyebrows knitting together, jungkook shook his head. "no it's not, baby. tell me what's going on." he probed. for a second, just a split second, your mind began to wander into the waters of uncertainty.

"come on, you know i like to hear your sweet voice."

your heart lurched at the sentence, one that was forever stuck in your mind as a painful reminder of that awful day. suddenly, the uncertainty was gone, replaced by an urgent sense of eagerness and determination.

"i just miss my old life." you admitted. "i was just...so proud of everything that i made for myself. not that i don't like it here with you, but i miss my routine. i miss going to the store, and getting my coffee, and walking through my neighborhood. it took me a long time to finally gain happiness, and i wish i could've held onto that for a little longer." you said sadly, eyes welling up at the memories of the life you once cherished.

jungkook nodded slowly. he stayed silent, but you could see the wheels turning in his head as he considered your confession. "and, i was kind of wondering, if..." you sighed shakily, "if it'd be okay for me to go out? just for the day, sometimes. and i'd come back here every night. i would just want to go back to my apartment, and get my old clothes, and have another one of my favorite drinks, and visit the old park i used to walk at."

looking back into his eyes, you were met with his own eyes being focused on the floor. he had a thoughtful expression, and the oh-so sweet glimmer of hope that had been extinguished for so long finally regained its spark. he stayed like that for a while, as if he were picturing everything you just said and everything that could go wrong.

"i'll think about it."

your eyes widened, eyebrows raising and the corners of your mouth curling upwards. "really?!" you exulted, sitting up in his lap. he smiled and nodded again. "yeah, really. you've been a good girl, i think you deserve a reward." he grinned. "thank you, thank you!" you cheered, wrapping your arms around his neck in a tight hug and kissing his cheek.

"of course, darling. anything for you." he beamed. "why don't you go to the kitchen and have someone start on dinner? i just have one more call to make, and then i'm all yours. sound good?" he hummed. you nodded happily, hopping off his lap and bubbling out of the office.

it worked, it worked so well! the glow of freedom was so close, you could practically feel its warmth absorb into your skin as you skipped downstairs. everything seemed brighter now; the lights illuminated the room in a different way, the vases of flowers were more vibrant, and your soul felt like it was shining more than it had in months.

if only you knew the storm cloud that was headed your way.

[menacetomany]

people should blorboify adelard dekker more. one of like 3 people enmeshed with the fears who wasn't on some level an awful or at least deeply morally dubious person. also one of the few canon POC. obsessed with the extinction, like all cool people. he solves his eldritch horror problems with copious amounts of concrete. what's not to love