#operational availability calculation

[vibeswithdivs]

you don’t mess around - OP81

If you had to describe your job in three words, they’d be: pressure, precision, and absolutely no room for mistakes.

You managed the money that kept McLaren running. Not in the sense of counting coins in a dusty room — no, you lived in digital dashboards and currency exposure spreadsheets. On any given day, you could tell someone how much was in the Swiss account, how the yen was affecting the Singapore deal, and whether a facility payment was going to clear before a supplier had a panic attack.

The job was about timing. Liquidity. Predicting the unpredictable and safeguarding the team’s future — all while juggling numbers with razor-sharp accuracy.

Which is why when a race car driver wandered into your high-stakes, number-heavy corner of the building on a calm Wednesday morning, you stared at him like he’d stepped into a Bond film by mistake.

He paused just inside the glass doors — tall, hoodie-clad, faintly windblown from the chilly British air outside — and looked around with a furrowed brow.

Definitely lost.

Your colleagues peeked over their screens, some wide-eyed, others frozen mid-email. In this room, the loudest thing was usually someone’s keyboard when they were panicking before a deadline.

You were about to go back to calculating rolling cash positions when he spotted you.

He smiled.

It wasn’t a polite PR-smile. It was curious. Warm. Maybe a little amused.

“This definitely isn’t Aerodynamics,” he said, glancing around.

You took your hand off your mouse and leaned back slightly in your chair. “Unless they’ve suddenly decided to start hedging foreign currency risk, no — you’re a few wrong turns deep.”

He took a cautious step in. “It’s… quiet in here.”

You tilted your head. “Not when the dollar drops half a percent during a five-million-pound contract negotiation.”

He grinned at that. “Sounds intense.”

You offered a thin smile. “That’s one word for it.”

There was a beat. Then he added, “I’m supposed to be meeting Zak, but I think I took a wrong left somewhere between partnerships and… whatever room had seventeen monitors and no windows.”

You stood, brushing off your skirt. “You’re about four corridors off course and six floors deep into stress.”

He looked around. “Well, if I’m going to get lost, at least I ended up somewhere interesting.”

You blinked at him. “You’re the first person to say that about this room. Ever.”

He gave a half-grin, toeing one foot on the floor like he was trying to kill time. “So what do you actually do in here?”

You pointed to your screen, where a live dashboard showed inflows, outflows, and forecasts across multiple international entities. “See that? That’s how much is available in five different currencies to fund race weekend logistics without breaking any laws or overdraft limits.”

Oscar leaned slightly forward, genuinely intrigued. “And you just… know how to do that?”

“I know how to make sure no one gets a call from legal,” you said, turning your gaze back to him. “Including you.”

He laughed, a genuine, caught-off-guard sound. “Wow. You guys are the quiet enforcers.”

“Quiet, precise, and very well-documented,” you replied smoothly. “We don’t leave fingerprints — just audit trails.”

That earned a low whistle. “You don’t mess around.”

“No, but people sometimes think we do — right up until they want to order a new hospitality suite and we say, ‘not unless you want to explain that to Finance.’”

He looked impressed. “Duly noted.”

Another colleague passed behind you, giving Oscar a side-eye like he was a Martian. You cleared your throat and took a step forward, suddenly feeling aware of just how much of the room was pretending not to eavesdrop.

“You’re Oscar,” you said, a little more grounded now.

“And you are…?”

“Y/N,” you replied. “I work in… let’s call it future-proofing.”

That made him pause. “I like that.”

“It sounds less terrifying than ‘I manage the operational cash forecasts for a multimillion-pound motorsport empire,’” you added with a wink.

He smirked. “A motorsport empire, huh?”

“You guys play chess with tires. I play chess with the economy.”

He laughed again, and the sound of it — relaxed, amused, intrigued — felt like a weird sort of reward after a morning spent reviewing intercompany transfers.

“You actually like this stuff?” he asked, pointing at your screen.

You tilted your head. “You like driving into a corner at 200kph hoping your grip calculations are right?”

“…Fair.”

At that moment, a harried admin appeared behind him. “Oscar! There you are — Zak’s been waiting—”

Oscar turned slightly but didn’t move. “Got a little sidetracked.”

The admin blinked at you, surprised. You offered a tight-lipped smile and a “don’t you dare start” eyebrow raise before turning back to him.

“Back to the track?” you asked lightly.

“Back to pretending I know what my engineer is talking about.”

You smiled, unexpectedly. “Fake it till you podium.”

He chuckled. “Hey, Y/N?”

You raised a brow.

“I’m glad I got lost,” he said. “Most detours don’t come with financial sass and a global cash position overview.”

“Flirting with the girl who can freeze team spending is bold,” you replied, smirking.

He shrugged, taking a few steps toward the door. “I’ve raced in Monaco. I like high-risk strategies.”

Before leaving, he turned back over his shoulder, grin softening into something more sincere. “I’ll come back. But next time, I’ll bring coffee. You seem like you don’t take sugar, but I’ll gamble.”

You blinked, not used to someone reading you that quickly.

“…Black. No sugar,” you said after a beat.

He pointed, victorious. “Knew it.”

And with that, he slipped out of the room — leaving behind a trail of confusion, amusement, and a string of open-mouthed stares from your colleagues.

You sat down, turned back to your screen, and tried — very unsuccessfully — to remember what currency hedge you were working on.

But all your brain could supply was: He got your coffee order right.

And maybe… just maybe… some risks were worth taking.

[girl-lostconnection]

A little additional thought to this while I write the main course

Important: [Reader in this specific AU written as female and is plus size. They also (again) aren’t small. Shorter than Simon (show me who’s not) but definitely not smaller — with broad shoulders and strong limbs and similar stoic personality. So if you are for any reason uncomfortable with it — don’t read. That’s how the Reader will be described in this specific AU, it won’t change.]

Soap who meets Reader for the first time and stumbles because she’s wearing Simon’s sweater (which shouldn’t look this good on her, Simon is big, why does it look good on this bird?) and Simon just presses a kiss to the crown of her head like it’s the most usual thing in the world.

And then she looks up at him and just…stares. Expression unreadable but she just tilts her head to the side, eyes sizing him up.

She’s not hostile to him but not friendly either, just offers to pour him some tea — eyes heavy with something he can’t quite make out. And then she stands up, stretching her hands above her head and Soap’s mind blanks out a little.

God, are you listening? He’s got a prayer.

Soap isn’t sure what to do and how to operate because she watches him like…well, like he’s a dog Simon brought home — eyes assessing him, as if she’s trying to calculate whether or not he will need flee spray, bath and a meal.

Reader mentions to Simon that the bed needs fixing since some springs uncurled and they will probably need a new bed frame. It snaps Soap back a little because…what does she mean by that?

He tries to catch his (they never discussed it but can he consider Simon his after he spent Christmas with Johnny’s family?) lieutenant’s eyes to inquire but Simon is completely relaxed and either oblivious or deliberately dropping some very heavy hints.

Because Simon nods and asks when this pretty bird is available to go look for bed frames and whether or not she thinks they should get a bigger one.

Soap’s eyes roam the small apartment counting the number of the rooms before they snap back to Ghost with silent “did you forget to mention something?”.

Because there’s only one bedroom.

And unless these two have a bloody bunk beds at their grown age, they are sleeping in the same bed.

Johnny’s eyes widen when he looks at Reader in Simon’s sweater again, which is just a little wider in shoulders for her, fabric spread taut over her bosom.

(Proceeds to spend the next half an hour thinking whether or not he’s the other woman and a home wrecker)

Part 1

[reasonsforhope]

Scientists have developed a new solar-powered system to convert saltwater into fresh drinking water which they say could help reduce dangerous the risk of waterborne diseases like cholera.

Via tests in rural communities, they showed that the process is more than 20% cheaper than traditional methods and can be deployed in rural locations around the globe.

Building on existing processes that convert saline groundwater to freshwater, the researchers from King’s College London, in collaboration with MIT and the Helmholtz Institute for Renewable Energy Systems, created a new system that produced consistent levels of water using solar power, and reported it in a paper published recently in Nature Water.

It works through a process called electrodialysis which separates the salt using a set of specialized membranes that channel salt ions into a stream of brine, leaving the water fresh and drinkable. By flexibly adjusting the voltage and the rate at which salt water flowed through the system, the researchers developed a system that adjusts to variable sunshine while not compromising on the amount of fresh drinking water produced.

Using data first gathered in the village of Chelleru near Hyderabad in India, and then recreating these conditions of the village in New Mexico, the team successfully converted up to 10 cubic meters, or several bathtubs worth of fresh drinking water. This was enough for 3,000 people a day with the process continuing to run regardless of variable solar power caused by cloud coverage and rain.

[Note: Not sure what metric they're using to calculate daily water needs here. Presumably this is drinking water only.]

Dr. Wei He from the Department of Engineering at King’s College London believes the new technology could bring massive benefits to rural communities, not only increasing the supply of drinking water but also bringing health benefits.

“By offering a cheap, eco-friendly alternative that can be operated off the grid, our technology enables communities to tap into alternative water sources (such as deep aquifers or saline water) to address water scarcity and contamination in traditional water supplies,” said He.

“This technology can expand water sources available to communities beyond traditional ones and by providing water from uncontaminated saline sources, may help combat water scarcity or unexpected emergencies when conventional water supplies are disrupted, for example like the recent cholera outbreaks in Zambia.”

In the global rural population, 1.6 billion people face water scarcity, many of whom are reliant on stressed reserves of groundwater lying beneath the Earth’s surface.

However, worldwide 56% of groundwater is saline and unsuitable for consumption. This issue is particularly prevalent in India, where 60% of the land harbors undrinkable saline water. Consequently, there is a pressing need for efficient desalination methods to create fresh drinking water cheaply, and at scale.

Traditional desalination technology has relied either on costly batteries in off-grid systems or a grid system to supply the energy necessary to remove salt from the water. In developing countries’ rural areas, however, grid infrastructure can be unreliable and is largely reliant on fossil fuels...

“By removing the need for a grid system entirely and cutting reliance on battery tech by 92%, our system can provide reliable access to safe drinking water, entirely emission-free, onsite, and at a discount of roughly 22% to the people who need it compared to traditional methods,” He said.

The system also has the potential to be used outside of developing areas, particularly in agriculture where climate change is leading to unstable reserves of fresh water for irrigation.

The team plans to scale up the availability of the technology across India through collaboration with local partners. Beyond this, a team from MIT also plans to create a start-up to commercialize and fund the technology.

“While the US and UK have more stable, diversified grids than most countries, they still rely on fossil fuels. By removing fossil fuels from the equation for energy-hungry sectors like agriculture, we can help accelerate the transition to Net Zero,” He said.

-via Good News Network, April 2, 2024

[theunsinkableship1]

DENIAL IS NOT A RIVER IN LUKOLALAND

⚠️DISCLAIMER: This is Lukolaland only. Skip if you don't believe.

Denial is a river in LUKOLALAND?

This has to be a joke, right? Some responses that I have received on my latest posts on TT and Tumblr leave me perplexed. Let me make something clear: I’m not here to convince anyone of anything. You have the right to believe whatever you want, that’s your prerogative. However, this is a Lukola space. It’s a space that exists to celebrate their connection, to nurture it from afar, because it shines brightly and is uniquely beautiful.

I don’t know them personally. I can only judge from what I’ve seen and heard, and I fully acknowledge that my perception is biased. My interpretations come from the way I read into their actions, their words, and their patterns. What I share here isn’t fact, it’s speculation based on observation. The only thing I know for sure is that I don’t know what’s really going on.

First and foremost, they are colleagues and FRIENDS. They’ve said that multiple times, and I believe them. For those who doubt their friendship, I don’t know what to tell you. That’s the foundation here. If you don’t even believe in their bond as friends, this probably isn’t the space for you.

But here’s where it gets complicated: they’re not just platonic friends. You may have missed it, but the signs are there, publicly available. You just need to pay attention. I’m not talking about outlandish theories; I’m talking about what’s right there if you’re willing to see it.

I believe they’re in love with each other. As for their current situation? I’m not certain. But the level of plausible deniability in their story doesn’t make sense to me. Maybe it does to you, but for someone who thinks in layers, patterns, double entendres, and undertones, someone who loves words and has studied communication and PR, this whole narrative is anything but straightforward.

Leaving this much space for misinterpretation is a choice. If they wanted to shut this down entirely, they could’ve done so with clarity and finality. It’s not that they can’t make themselves understood without being misconstrued, they absolutely can. But they haven’t.

It’s wise to keep a level of doubt, it maintains objectivity and prevents overreach. However, when coincidences stack up and patterns emerge, it becomes increasingly unlikely that they’re all mere misunderstandings or products of plausible deniability.

The more coincidences there are, the less likely they are to be unrelated.

On their own, one or two could easily be explained away, “just friends,” “PR,” or “fans reading too much into it.”

When similar themes arise repeatedly over months or years (e.g., their timing, shared themes, subtle nods to one another), the likelihood of them being mere coincidence diminishes.

The concept of plausible deniability hinges on actions that could be explained in multiple ways. However, the more layers of ambiguity and deniability built into their interactions, the more intentional it feels.

The subtleties of their public dynamic suggest a shared awareness of fan interpretations. They know how their actions are perceived. To repeatedly engage in behaviors that could be "misunderstood" suggests either: a) Intentional messaging within safe boundaries. b) A significant lack of care, which doesn’t align with how thoughtful and calculated they seem to be.

Take Nicola’s recent Times interview as an example. She could have ended all speculation right there,

“A lot of people really want me to marry Luke,” she says with a laugh. “We have this gorgeous friendship. We have such a love for one another and this experience that I’ll never have with someone else again. Isn’t it gorgeous that a man and woman can have that sort of relationship with one another?”

but she didn’t. Why? There must be a reason. And no, it’s not just PR. PR campaigns don’t operate on layers of plausible deniability that stretch across years, interweave with personal moments, and rely on such specific timing.

Isn’t it strange that for two people who have been so close, their social interactions have significantly decreased compared to before? Over the past two years, especially after the world tour, they appeared to have solidified a deep friendship. If the intent is to disengage fans from the idea that they might be secretly in love, wouldn’t it be wiser to interact more naturally and perhaps even acknowledge each other’s perceived partners?

From a strategic perspective, a like, a follow, or a simple interaction on social media could have gone a long way in dismantling the Lukola narrative. Such actions would feel natural for close friends, especially ones under public scrutiny. Their reluctance to adopt this approach only adds to the curiosity. Why not lean into a strategy that would be less detrimental and more effective at quelling speculation?

Perhaps they are more active on private social media accounts, but publicly, the absence of these gestures stands out. If the goal truly is to clarify their relationship and put fan theories to rest, this perceived distance feels counterproductive. The choice to refrain from such actions, at least for now, is, at the very least, curious. Could it be that there’s a reason they haven’t done so yet?

Both Luke and Nicola have had ample opportunities to firmly address and deny the Lukola narrative. While they’ve made passing comments about being friends, these have lacked the clarity and directness that would fully quash the speculation. Why leave the door ajar if they truly wanted to shut it?

Their reduced interactions seem to have coincided with the conclusion of the promotional period for Bridgerton. During promotions, they were actively engaging with each other and the fandom, fostering the image of a close bond. The sudden change afterward could indicate a deliberate decision to recalibrate public perceptions of their relationship.

The decrease in public interactions after the “papgate” could be their way of managing fallout from the incident, yet it raises questions: Why would two close friends need to distance themselves so noticeably? It suggests a calculated retreat to reduce speculation. However, this strategy seems counterproductive, as the abruptness of the change has drawn more attention. A gradual shift, paired with natural acknowledgments of their respective supposed personal lives, might have been more effective.

It’s possible they’re still VERY close privately but have chosen to limit their public interactions to avoid misinterpretation, or for privacy reasons. If so, this deliberate choice to create distance publicly could point to a deeper connection they’re trying to shield.

This brings us back to patterns. If you observe their public interactions, their timing, their word choices, the double meanings, they’re not random. These coincidences pile up to the point where it’s hard to believe they’re all meaningless. Their bond transcends the boundaries of PR, platonic friendship, or even ordinary relationships.

If you reason in layers, you’ll see it too. The amount of room they leave for interpretation is extraordinary. It’s not just about what they say, it’s about what they don’t say. It’s about the undertones, the pauses, the way they navigate questions, and even the things they choose to share (or not share) on social media. All of this seems to be deliberate. The picture is larger and more intricate than it seems on the surface.

For example: Am I truly supposed to believe that Nicola, who has a higher degree in English and a major grasp of language, would post a Scrabble board with so many elements that could be interpreted through a Lukola lens purely by coincidence? Yes, she’s an avid player of word games, but let’s examine the board itself. It reflects competent but not advanced gameplay, logical and adhering to Scrabble rules, yes, but lacking the level of complexity, strategy, and nuanced word choice you’d expect from someone of her linguistic caliber or from a player displaying their skill.

For me, this was never just about showing off her love of Scrabble. It felt intentional, like an intended message rather than a casual post. If the goal was simply to share her hobbies or an aesthetic moment, she could’ve easily posted a picture of herself playing Scrabble, perhaps with a pint of Guinness in hand. Or she could’ve showcased a more advanced board to reflect her skills or creativity. Instead, she chose this specific board with these specific words, words that align so conveniently with a narrative many of us have come to associate with Lukola.

And let’s not forget her self-awareness. Why would someone who knows how deeply her posts are analyzed by fans continue to share things that are repeatedly misconstrued? If she didn’t want the association, why add layers of ambiguity, such as the now infamous “the very demure, very mindful” quote? What was the reason?

Just two days ago, she posted a photo in her best of 2024 the phrase "if you know, you know." Let’s be honest, how many Lukola edits have we seen that riff of "when you know, you know"? If this wasn’t related to that, what exactly was the point of the “random” quote?  Is it public knowledge or is it something only some know? Nicola is anything but random on social media. She’s chronically online, she’s clever, and she’s incredibly aware of the narratives circulating around her.

These patterns, Scrabble boards, cryptic quotes, wordplay, and selective ambiguity, don’t feel accidental. They feel curated. For someone so skilled with words and communication, there’s intention behind these choices. If it were just for fun, she could have chosen countless other ways to express herself that wouldn’t leave so much room for interpretation. But she didn’t. And for me, that’s speaks volumes.

I’m mainly talking about Nicola here because there’s simply more material to analyze, her posts, interviews, and public interactions offer more clues and layers to unpack. However, Luke’s activity, or rather, his noticeable lack of activity, is equally intriguing and worth examining.

Luke has always been more reserved on social media compared to Nicola, but his recent silence or carefully curated posts stand out. He’s not just absent; he’s selectively absent. There’s a difference between being inactive and deliberately staying under the radar. For someone who previously shared glimpses of his personal life and participated more openly in fandom engagement, his current approach feels intentional.

When he does post, the content often seems neutral, leaning into professional promotion or generic life updates. Yet, the timing or lack of acknowledgment of certain things, whether related to Nicola or even his supposed personal relationships, leaves room for speculation. It’s almost as if he’s consciously avoiding feeding into narratives while simultaneously not shutting them down.

For instance, why hasn’t he addressed certain rumors head-on, as he has done in the past with other relationships? Luke has historically been upfront about his. It’s a choice.

Considering that Luke has been involved in other projects and worked with other co-stars since the end of the Bridgerton world tour, the ratio of content related to Nicola remains strikingly high. Among the limited glimpses he does share, Nicola accounts for the largest percentage of reposts and interactions. What’s even more telling is that the majority of this content is Lukola-focused, centered on his dynamic with Nicola as individuals, rather than strictly Polin-related, which would be tied to their characters and professional pairing. Yes, she is his MAIN co-star within the Bridgerton universe, but this level of engagement is noteworthy.

This isn’t to say he doesn’t appreciate or acknowledge his other co-stars; it’s just that the weight of attention, however subtle, consistently gravitates toward Nicola. Whether it’s the choice of what he reposts or the absence of comparable attention toward other colleagues, the pattern emerges loud and clear.

If we analyze this through a lens of probability and statistics, the numbers paint an even more intriguing picture. Let’s say Luke has worked with five to seven notable co-stars in other projects and in Bridgerton, if he has been tagged in or had the opportunity to engage with 100 pieces of social media content since the world tour. If Nicola accounts for, say, 60% of the interactions and reposts, despite being one of many co-stars, it defies the expectation of a more even distribution.

For context, if he were equally invested in all professional relationships, the engagement with Nicola might hover closer to 15-20%, proportional to the size of his broader network. The fact that this number is so much higher, let’s conservatively estimate at least three to four times greater raises questions. Is this simply because of their shared Bridgerton fame? Perhaps. But then why focus on individual Lukola moments, bypassing more neutral or inclusive Polin or broader cast content?

From a mathematical standpoint, the odds of this being purely coincidental diminish significantly when you layer in the context:

Nicola has the highest percentage of reposts across Luke's social media activity.

The type of content intimate, personal, or Lukola-specific reflects a curated choice, not random selection.

Even in a professional context, where Polin content would be the obvious promotional focus, the Lukola-centric moments shine through.

Given the numbers and probabilities, it seems less likely that this pattern is accidental or merely reflective of professional obligations. Instead, it suggests an intentionality that aligns with the depth and uniqueness of their connection.

Promotion for Bridgerton Season 3 has come to a halt, creating a quiet period where we can observe and compare how Luke approaches the promotion of his other projects.it could highlight how unique his dynamic with Nicola truly is.

The nature of the content he shares for other projects will be equally telling

By comparing these promotional efforts both in terms of frequency and tone to the patterns established during the Bridgerton promotional cycle, we could gain insight into whether his approach to Nicola was truly unique or simply part of his broader professional routine.

When coincidences pile up, their probability of being just coincidences shrinks dramatically. A single instance might be random, but repeated instances with similar themes, timing, and emotional undertones suggest a deeper meaning. While maintaining doubt is reasonable, the sheer volume of these moments suggests that there’s more at play than mere misunderstanding. It’s not about overreaching, it’s about acknowledging that where there’s consistent smoke, there’s likely some fire. What type of fire is there currently? I’m not sure. Are you? Probably an Eternal flame.

[mariacallous]

Cuts made by the Trump administration are threatening the function of a tiny but crucial office within the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration that maintains the US’s framework of spatial information: latitudes, longitudes, vertical measurements like elevation, and even measurements of Earth’s gravitational field.

Staff losses at the National Geodetic Survey (NGS), the oldest scientific agency in the US, could further cripple its mission and activities, including a long-awaited project to update the accuracy of these measurements, former employees and experts say. As the world turns more and more toward operations that need precise coordinate systems like the ones NGS provides, the science that underpins this office’s activities, these experts say, is becoming even more crucial.

The work of NGS, says Tim Burch, the executive director of the National Society of Professional Surveyors, “is kind of like oxygen. You don’t know you need it until it’s not there.”

“NOAA remains dedicated to providing timely information, research, and resources that serve the American public and ensure our nation’s environmental and economic resilience,” NOAA spokesperson Alison Gillespie told WIRED in an email when asked about the downsizing of NGS.

NGS was formed in 1807 by Thomas Jefferson, the son of a surveyor and cartographer. Originally called the Survey of the Coast, the organization, led by a young Swiss immigrant named Ferdinand Hassler, was tasked with mapping the coastlines of the new country. Over the next 200 years, its mission expanded to cover the practice of geodesy: the science of calculating the shape of the Earth, its orientation in space, and its gravitational field.

“Hassler understood that before you put pen to paper and make a chart or a map, if you wanted to [know how] things relate accurately one to another, especially if you’re going to do that over a large area like the United States, then you have to have a very strong mathematical foundation to put all these pieces together,” says Dave Doyle, a former chief geodetic surveyor at NGS. “That is, in a very simple way, what the science of geodesy brings to the nation.”

NGS is currently responsible for maintaining and updating what’s known as the National Spatial Reference System, a consistent system of physical coordinates used across federal and local governments, the private sector, and academia. This includes not only latitude and longitude, but also measurements of depth and height as well as calculations around Earth’s gravitational field—crucial mathematics that inform much of the basic infrastructure around us, from constructing bridges to mapping out water and electric lines. NGS also maintains and operates more than 1,700 federally owned satellite receivers across the US, which provide publicly available geospatial information.

While individual surveyors can compare heights and distances in smaller areas, it’s far more difficult to compare mountains thousands of miles from each other, or know exactly how sea level rise may be affecting different areas of the country that have vastly different coastlines. Having a coordinated frame of reference across the entire country—both latitude and longitude as well as depth and height—underpins the accurate positioning of locations across the US in relation to each other, as well as in relation to other geospatial measurement systems across the world.

The Earth is also constantly shifting: the motion of tectonic plates causes latitude and longitude coordinates to slowly move, mandating that they be updated every few decades. In some places—like the coast of Louisiana, where subsidence is causing between 25 to 35 square feet of land loss each year—these shifts manifest much quicker.

“Most people can stand on the beach and see the water and turn around and look at a dune behind them and go: ‘Oh, yeah. That’s about 5 or 6 feet above sea level,’” says Doyle. But when it comes to building things, you need to be able to accurately take measurements at scale. “You have to have some system of heights that is standardized across a large geographic body. I want consistent heights from New York to Maryland so we can build highways, so we can build utility infrastructure. You want to make sure water is always flowing in the appropriate direction.”

The US is currently working with a particularly outdated set of coordinate systems. The current measurements contained in the National Spatial Reference System—including latitude, longitude, and vertical heights, a set of reference systems called datums—were established in the 1980s, shortly after the US launched the world’s first GPS satellites. In the years since those datums were created, increasingly advanced satellite technology has enabled geodesists to more accurately measure the shape and orientation of the Earth, and to better position their measurements. As a result, each point of measurement in the US datums is now, on average, around two meters off from its actual, accurate location. In some locations, it’s even more extreme.

As anyone who has tried to go for a run with a glitchy Garmin watch knows, current GPS technology has limits in terms of on-the-ground precision. For everyday navigation, exact locations aren’t truly necessary—but for a variety of activities, from mapping floodplains to building bridges to measuring sea level rise, every centimeter becomes crucial. Ensuring hyper-accurate location is also becoming increasingly important as more and more industries are building up around automation that relies on precise spatial measurements.

“Do you want to get in an autonomous taxi that is plus or minus two and a half meters going down the road?” says Burch. “I don’t. That is part of the critical piece here: all these systems have to be this tight and this precise moving forward.”

In order to update the US’s datums to be in line with satellite data, land shifts, and accurate measurements of the Earth, staff at NGS were planning on rolling out a long-awaited modernization of the National Spatial Reference System, bringing it into the 21st century and making it easier to update moving forward. Originally scheduled to be completed in 2022, the agency posted a notice in the federal register last fall detailing its updated timeline for rolling out the new datums and associated products in 2025 and 2026.

But three former staffers who left NGS in the past month say this planned rollout may be pushed even farther behind by staff losses, thanks to employees like them who took retirements, left their jobs, or were laid off as part of federal restructuring. According to former staff, NGS was sitting at 174 employees at the start of the year, with staff looking to fill an additional 15 positions to help with rolling out the new datums and educating federal agencies and local governments on their use. Since January 20, the agency has lost nearly a quarter of its staff and has had to freeze planned hiring. (When asked about the accuracy of these numbers, Gillespie, the NOAA spokesperson, told WIRED that the agency has a “long-standing practice not to discuss personnel or internal management matters.”)

The remaining staff are in an “all hands on deck” situation with the rollout, says Brett Howe, the former geodetic services division chief at NGS, who opted to retire at the end of April. Despite a dedicated staff, Howe says that the loss of many in senior leadership with decades of experience and institutional knowledge means that the agency can’t afford to go through any more cuts.

“If we get to hire back some people, we are still going to have trouble meeting that timeline of 2025 and 2026 [for the rollout], but we’ll be able to make it work,” he says. “If there are further cuts, or we’re not able to execute our [National Spatial Reference System] modernization plan, and then we get to a year, a year and a half from now, and we lose more people—either through other layoffs or they just retire—then I think we’re in real trouble. Then I wonder how we function as an agency.”

“At this time, the ongoing NSRS modernization plans are still aligned with the dates in the Federal Register notice,” Gillespie told WIRED. “NGS will be releasing foundational data and supporting products for testing and feedback in 2025.”

The fate of NGS under the Trump administration is unclear. A NOAA budget proposal from the White House Office of Management and Budget sent to the agency in April cuts the budget for the National Ocean Service, which houses NGS, by more than half. Project 2025 does not mention NGS by name, but it does mandate moving NOAA’s surveying capabilities to other agencies.

“We don’t speculate about things that may or may not happen in the future,” Gillespie said when asked about potential upcoming changes to the agency. “NOAA will continue to deliver weather information, forecasts and warnings, and conduct research pursuant to our public safety mission.”

The sharp drop in staff numbers at NGS is the tail end of a long decline for the practice of geodesy in the US. In 2022, a group of leading geodesic experts authored a paper on what they dubbed the US’s “geodesy crisis,” detailing how other world powers have invested in training geodesists over the past three decades while the US has wound down funding and training. China has invested particularly heavily in creating more geodesists: the country graduates between 9,000 and 12,500 geodesy students per year, many of whom are then employed by the government. By contrast, around 20 students graduated with advanced degrees in geodesy from US universities over the past decade.

This, the authors argue, has contributed to China rapidly overtaking the US in geospatial technologies and disciplines of all kinds. Nowhere is this clearer than with China’s satellite navigation system, BeiDou, which has been gaining on the US’s GPS system in accuracy. In 2023, a US government advisory board on GPS stated in a memo that GPS is now “substantially inferior” to BeiDou.

Like other cuts to public science made under the Trump administration, the losses from blows to this agency could be substantial. A 2012 analysis found that every taxpayer dollar spent on NGS’s coastal mapping program returned $35 in benefits, while a 2019 report found that the NGS program that models gravitational fields would provide between $4.2 and $13.3 billion worth of benefit over 10 years. The private sector also relies heavily on public data provided by NGS. Some analyses project that the geospatial economy will grow to $1 trillion by the end of the decade. It’s even more crucial, experts say, to have an updated spatial reference system in the US, as well as institutional knowledge of the basic science of how to measure and understand our Earth.

Many industries now “want that high accuracy positioning” that comes with advanced geospatial technology, Doyle says, “yet they don’t understand the basics of the science. Now you’ve got all these people punching buttons and getting numbers, and only a tiny percentage of them really understand what the numbers mean, and how one set of numbers relates to another.”

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

Ordinary Chapter 1, Outside the lines

Masterlist Word count: 3k Zayne x Fem!Reader

Summary: After seeing his best friend getting married to the love of her life, Zayne can't help but be a little jealous. He never had this feeling before. It's almost like he's longing for someone to love. At the wedding, she introduces him to a colleague who instantly forces him out of his comfort zone. Could this be love?

"I can't, sorry. I've got work." 

Zayne had hoped you would've given up with that text. After he got home, the alien feeling he felt during the wedding disappeared only to be replaced by his usual loneliness. Only, it felt worse. So much worse. As if the warmth he had felt in your presence had become his new normal, only to feel cold when he got home. 

He doesn't like it. He doesn't want it. All he wants is to continue in life as he had before. No weird feelings, no strange moments, no chaos. Just normalcy and structure. That's all he needs. All he wants.  

But you didn't give up. 

"When are you available? Or maybe we could get some lunch during your break?" 

He wants to be optimistic, he really does, but this is how it always starts. At first, his partners take what they can get - coffee date, a late dinner together, a lazy morning before he gets called in again - but eventually they all tire of his hectic work schedule. 

However, he'll never hear the end of it if he doesn’t go out with you at least once. 

"We can do lunch on Wednesday. I usually have a break at 12:30 until 13:00 if nothing happens." 

"Would you prefer to stay in the hospital for your break or go out?" 

That throws him off a little bit. Usually, the women he dates assume he'll take them out even if he has little time and can't even be sure if he has a break. When he doesn't respond for a few minutes, another message comes in from you. 

"How about I make us something delicious and we can decide if we want to go out when you're ready?" 

"Agreed." 

"Akso hospital, right? Should I tell someone when I'm there, or just text you and sit in the waiting room?" 

"Text me." 

"Alrighty, any allergies I should know about?" 

Zayne suddenly notices his cheeks hurt a little. He's smiling. He's been smiling a while from the strain he feels in his cheeks. It almost makes him angry. How dare you make him smile like this after barely having one conversation? How dare you shake his normalcy up for the chaos you bring? How dare you make his heart stir? This isn't what he signed up for. 

"I am not the greatest fan of carrots. Everything else is fine." 

"I'll keep that in mind! See you Wednesday!" 

His words, all his texts, were quite cold and calculated. Only communicating what was needed and yet your words almost jumped out of his screen. He could see you say those things with that sunny smile of yours. This whole thing seems unfair somehow. 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

Wednesday. It must be around lunchtime as Zayne feels hunger building. His eyes flick to the clock on the operating room wall. 1:15. He's been in surgery for hours, and the procedure is taking longer than expected. The patient, a young man with a complex abdominal injury, is stable, but the delicate nature of the procedure has been a pain. Zayne wasn't even supposed to scrub in, but one of his colleagues got stuck in traffic and this couldn't wait. 

When the surgery finally concludes, Zayne steps back and takes a deep breath, his body heavy with exhaustion but his mind still laser-focused. It's as if there's a glass box around him and everything that's happening around him is slightly muted. He glances at the clock again. 1:30. His stomach drops. He was supposed to meet you at 12:30. 

He pulls out his phone, expecting a strong of annoyed texts or, worse, radio silence. Instead, there's just one message from you, sent at 12:19. 

"I'm here!" 

He stares at the message, a strange warmth spreading through his chest. It's just a few words but he can feel the excitement behind them and the fact that there are no other messages means you're still there. You're waiting for him. Right? 

After taking off his scrubs and putting his white coat on again, he takes a moment to collect himself on the bench of the staff dressing room. The intensity of the surgery is still on his mind and he's having a harder time than usual getting himself out of it. Deep breathing doesn't work, splashing water in his face didn't work, affirmations didn't work. Finally, when he feels a little more grounded, he decides that he's made you wait long enough. 

Besides, his stomach is rumbling like crazy. 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

It's been a while since you sat down, more than an hour you figure, but you don't really mind. As you always do, you brought your sketchpad. When you started doodling, a little girl, no older than seven, sat down next to you asking how you were doing that. No more than five minutes later, the two of you were sharing the pad to draw flowers together. Her mother seemed thankful for the break, having a newborn on her arm. 

'Why are you here? You don't seem sick,' the little girl asks curiously as you hand her the pink pencil she asked for. Your tote is loaded with art supplies wherever you go. You never know when inspiration strikes.  

'I'm not sick,' you tell her, 'But I am going to have lunch with a friend. He's a doctor.' You raise your voice excitedly in the second part of your sentence. She giggles. 

'Why are you friends with a doctor? They're boring,' she states through her giggles. You see her mother roll her eyes behind her. She wants to say something, you can tell, but you nod to her to make sure she knows it's alright. 

'Are you good at keeping secrets?' The girl nods vigorously with a proud look on her face but her mother shakes her head behind her. A chuckle escapes you. 'Okay, listen up. The doctor I'm going to have lunch with, I like him a lot but he doesn't know yet. This is our first date.' 

The girl gasps, her mouth wide open, big eyes staring at you excitedly, 'oh you have to tell him!' You pretend to be thinking very deeply about it, putting your finger on your chin to act it out even more. 

'Hmmm, I'm not sure yet. I don't know if he likes me.' 

'I like you,' the girl squeals, 'so he must like you too!' 

'Maybe I tell him next time. This is the first time we're going on a date.' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

Zayne's breath catches when he spots you in the waiting room. There you are, sitting cross-legged on one of the uncomfortable chairs, a sketchpad balanced on your thigh, pencil in hand while you talk to the little girl sitting next to you. You're wearing simple linen pants and a black cropped t-shirt, your hair pulled up. You look like a ray of sunshine in the sterile, clinical environment. 

The way you're interreacting with the girl next to you is so patient, so gentle. You seem to have told her something outrageous with the way the girl is giggling. Your voice is warm and gentle as you encourage the girl to continue drawing. She copies with careful concentration. 

He can't help but watch for a moment as something tightens in his chest. He's not quite sure what it is – admiration perhaps, or something else he can't quite name yet. However, he can't stay stuck on it too long. He is already over an hour late and he's sure you've got other places to be as well. 

'Hey,' he says softly as he comes closer. You look up, your face lighting up with a smile as your eyes meet his. 

'Hey, you made it!' You turn to the girl sitting next to you. 'This is my friend, Zayne. What do you think? Should we show him our masterpiece?' Friend, ouch. But the little girl is giggling at your words, almost as if she knows more than he does. Did you tell her something? 

The girl holds up the sketchpad to show Zayne. It's a page with wobbly but enthusiastic flowers between carefully drawn masterpieces. Clear to see who drew what, but he can tell that you've been teaching her certain ways to make the flowers look better. 

'These are amazing,' Zayne says with the faintest smile, crouching down to her level. 'You're quite the artist.' 

The girl beams with pride. You tear off the page she worked on and give it to her. She scampers off to show her mother who gives you a thankful smile. You nod at her and stand up, brushing off your pants. Zayne grabs the woven basket from the floor while you quickly load your supplies back into your tote. 

'Sorry about that,' you grin, 'she looked bored.' 

'No need to apologize. I'm the one who's late,' Zayne says, his voice softer than intended. You shrug it off. 

'Doesn't matter. You're here now,' you say casually, 'so, did you want to stay in or go outside? Because I saw this pond in the garden...' 

Zayne hesitates. The garden is a beautiful peaceful spot, but with the rush of the day it might be better to stay inside. However, the thought of sitting there with you, surrounded by lush greenery and the gentle sound of the pond... it feels right. 

'Let's go to the garden,' he says, surprising himself. He quickly tries to rationalize it, 'I've been inside too long. It's good to go outside every once in a while' 

'Whatever you say doctor.' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

The hospital garden is a hidden gem, a small oasis of calm tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the building. The pond glistens in the sunlight and the grass is soft and lush. To Zayne's surprise, you prepared for this. You spread out the ugliest, yet charming, blanket he's ever seen and start unpacking the basket with the efficiency of someone who has done this many, many times before. 

'Okay, so I made a pasta salad because I figured you could use some carbs to keep you going,' you start explaining, 'It's got olives, anchovies, some olive oil as dressing. Then there's also some normal salad to get your greens in. And for dessert...' You hold up another container with a proud smile. 'Lemon cake.' 

Zayne's eyes almost seem heart shaped as he looks at the container. You notice right away and put the container down with a chuckle. 'Does the doctor have a sweet tooth,' you ask with a teasing tone. 

Zayne clears his throat, trying to collect his composure again. 'Maybe.' 

You grin, delighted at this new knowledge. 'Good. I'll keep that in mind for next time.' Zayne almost feels his cheeks flush at the thought that there could be a next time. He had his guard up so high and you've broken it down minutes into a first date. This is not good. He should calm down a little. You hand him a plate, pulling him out of his head. 'Dig in.' 

Zayne takes a cautious bite of the pasta salad, but is pleasantly surprised by how good it is. The flavors are bright and balanced, a welcome change from the tasteless hospital food he's used to. 'This is amazing,' he says, his voice sincere. 

'Glad you like it.' Zayne nods, taking another bite. He wants to talk to you, wants to ask about you, keep the conversation going, but his mind feels sluggish, still caught in the aftermath of the surgery. It seems the comforting bubble you created around the two of you made his exterior crack. Now he feels even more tired, because he doesn't feel like he has to hide it. He can just be tired. 

You watch him for a moment, seeming deep in thought. Something tells you he's tired, even though he hasn't said anything. His whole body seems to be slowing down. 'How has your day been so far,' you ask gently. 

Zayne hesitates, stuck between wanting to talk and not wanting to waste too much energy while still having half a shift left, then he shrugs. 'Busy. I had to scrub in for a surgery that ran longer than expected. It was a lot.' 

You nod, your expression softening as you watch him eat. 'I can imagine. You look like you've been through the wringer.' 

He glances up at you, surprised that you could tell. He thought he was hiding it pretty well. 'Is it that obvious?' 

You smile, but he sees no judgment in your face. Nothing that would tell him you despise him for not giving you his full attention. Instead, you look the tiniest bit worried. 'A little, but it's okay. We don't have to talk if you're not up for it. I'm happy to spend time with you either way.' 

Zayne feels a flicker of guilt. 'I'm sorry. I can imagine this isn't exactly... fun for you.' 

You shake your head, smile widening. 'Don't apologize. It's fine. I'm just glad I'm forcing you to have lunch, but I've got an even better idea if you're done.' 

Zayne studies you for a second, trying to figure out if you're just being polite, if you're never going to text him again, if you're going to leave and move to a different city. Instead, you seem completely at ease, chomping on your food happily. 'What's your idea?' 

'A nap.' You check your watch. 'If you have a half hour lunch break, we've only used a little over ten minutes. Could do you good to have a little sleep. Or just rest your eyes.' It sounds very appealing. Zayne's mind still feels slightly scattered from being in that sterile room for so long. Normally, he's fine after that but it seems the thought of meeting you cost him more energy than he bargained for. Resting his eyes sounds nice. 

'And how would we go about that?' His tone is a bit timid, scared to be so vulnerable so early on. But is it truly vulnerability? You're offering a nap to him. It's just a yes or no question. 

'You lay your head on my lap and I make sure you wake up on time.' Zayne feels his cheeks flush at your casual answer, but his body moves without his mind. You guide his head into your lap as he lays down on his back. 'I brought a book, would you like me to read to you?' 

'That'd be nice.' 

'Alright,' you smile and rummage through your tote bag, pulling out a little book, 'it's The Owl Service by Alan Garner.' 

Zayne listens with his eyes closed. One of your hands is in his hair, leaving every once in a while to turn a page. Your voice is melodic and expressive as you tell a story you seem to know very well. The bubble of comfort that was created when you sat down is suddenly very small. Seems the whole world is gone. The birds in the garden are but a background score for your story. Zayne's mind flickers in and out of consciousness, his mind wandering with the story. The story seems to be a children's story, but there's much more behind it. Either way, he doesn't have to stay fully awake to follow. 

A gentle tap to his forehead pulls him out of his dream world. His eyes flutter open and meets your eyes, shining like melting snow in the sun. You smile. 'Your break is almost over.' He nods and starts to stretch a little. Suddenly, he realizes he is holding something to his chest. Looking down, he sees a familiar hand with paint stains. He is holding your hand. 

'I'm sorry,' he stammers as he lets go and quickly gets up, regretting it right away. It's not good to sit up so fast after laying down for a while. If only he would follow his own advice. 

'It's fine. You were sleeping,' you smile kindly, 'however, if you do want to make it up to me, you can come over to my studio?' 

Zayne blinks, caught off guard. 'Your studio?' 

'Yeah,' you respond with sparkling eyes. 'I've seen your place of work, I'd love to show you around my place of work.' 

Zayne hesitates, a whirlwind of unfamiliar feelings rushing through his chest, but then nods. 'I'd like that.' 

Your smile lights up your whole face. 'Great! Text me when you're available.' 

As you start packing up, you expected him to go back inside, back to his job, but he helps you. He gathers the empty containers and closes them neatly so nothing left in them will spill in your basket, he takes the paper cups you brought and walks over to the trashcan near the footpath returning right after. You can't help the smile that spreads across your face. He even helps you fold the blanket. It all goes so naturally, it makes your heart swell. 

As he leans down to grab the basket, an idea blooms in your head. 'Thank you,' you smile and press a kiss to his cheek. His face goes bright red as he stands up. Rushed, he hands you the basket. 

'No problem.' Then he disappears back into the building. The idea that bloomed in your head, the warmth that spread from your lips, the tingling feeling in your stomach. It's a wonderful experience. Nothing quite compares to falling in love. A giggle escapes you as you leisurely stroll through the garden, heading back home to put this feeling on canvas. 

Zayne, on his end, closes the door of his office behind him and tries to catch his breath. His mind feels fragmented, lost in wanting to fall in love again and not wanting his trust broken again. One thing is for sure, he doesn't want this to end. Terrifying as it may be, for the first time in a long time, he's willing to allow himself to feel. 

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[haberiler]

GENERATOR FOR HOME - SİLVER

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[bloodchapell]

castle of sand — senku i. 17: visage of time

brief summary: all the things in the dark that light brings out

what to expect: slight (barely noticeable) deviance from canon, failed attempt of a kiss 💀

your sword's note: THIS WAS SO CUTE TO WRITE KILL ME NOW, all past and future parts + playlist of this series available on my mistresslist

"Ominous feeling in the environment, can't operate." You sat by the doors of the hut, resting your arms on the edge and looking outside. Senku took the hammer from his pocket and smacked you very softly and methodically with it, repeatedly, as if he was actually doing something. 

"Elaborate?"

"I have no elaborations." You sighed dramatically. "It's this feeling, like a hunch, but is based on nothing."

"Well some purple minion arrived from Tsukasa, that's ominous enough." 

"This is not about Gen." You interrupted immediately. "I am aware of Gen's ambiguity but I get him like a cup of water, he is no danger for us, he will be on our side in due time. This feeling is uncalled for, hence." 

"Well sorry, I can't help." A shrug from Senku. 

The iron bar was ready, sitting idly in the hut. Senku had found Chrome's copper and had melted it into a wire, which wrapped around the iron, confusingly, seemingly pointless. The only thing needed was lighting, which seemed somewhat primitive and fanciful, so you were all waiting for a storm. Suika was sitting beside you, looking around the hut, she was singing children's songs which you had taught her, clapping around while doing nothing. Senku looked at her, following along in his mind the lyrics of the songs he had learned in kindergarten with you. 

"I am thinking of cutting my hair..." You mumbled taking the strands away from your face. 

"Why?" 

"It is too hot, it gets annoying." 

And so, Suika grabbed a sharp blade and sat behind you. Senku pretended to do something else, but observed closely. 

"All done!" Suika said, walking around you to see. 

"You look like a perfectly diagonally slashed pineapple from Fruit Ninja." Senku laughed at you, putting his hand in an angle. 

"You can always be a perfectly diagonally slashed pineapple." You smiled. "I don't care that much about my appearance, especially in this stone world, but do not insinuate that my haircut —which my child did— is bad."

"Wow, a death threat, how innovative." Senku rolled his eyes. "It is okay, if you ignore symmetry and conventions of our society, but indeed Suika did her best so it is actually not bad at all."

He grabbed your face, turning it around to examine it, shrugged and let it go, to go back to his chore.

"I am somewhat bored, this is the perfect afternoon for doing so many things that are actually nothing, maybe watch a long YouTube video, or karaoke, or changing up my hair only to realize I don't like it... there is not much entertainment in this world..."

"Right!?" Gen said from the stairs. "So what is the gossip in this world? Why were you the first revived?" He climbed into the house, you were still wary of him, but in a boring world he was welcomed.

"Thinking capability...?" You asked, looking back at Senku, he nodded. 

"I don't think there is anyone else that thinks as much as she does, aside from me, for sure. If the catalyst for reviving someone with sheer willpower and nitric acid is thinking, no one else came to mind. And it worked."

"That is so sweet!" Calculated but swift, Gen knew what he was saying. Senku looked at you, you looked at him, then both sets of eyes went to Gen, a grimace lacking emotion, judgmental even. 

"No." You punctuated and that was it. 

"Sooo, how did you two get to know each other?" Gen asked with a cat smile. 

"Why is this relevant?" You asked.

"I am bored too." Gen noted like it was a simple statement, but you could see the traces of evil behind his facial facade. 

"Piece of shit." Senku nodded with a bothered smile. "We have studied together since we started studying, lived in the same apartment complex, what else...? That is about it." 

"And where does that lead us now?" Gen asked. 

"Full-time roommates, associates, archenemies even." Senku explained with detail, completely sure.

"Seems flawed." Gen said thinking. "What about this unnamed thing?"

"I'll kindly ask you to quit." You mumbled. Gen and Suika looked at each other, Suika shrugged. 

Senku avoided thinking about it, at least in that moment when he was inventorying Chrome's rocks; he had thought about it, enough, and he would think about it too once night fell, there was no point in losing neurons over the same concepts: familiarity, survival, attraction, instinct. He did not want to admit that he was also plagued, just as plagued as Chrome, as Gen, probably as Suika who in her eternal wisdom held her silence about the topic, but he was. He was plagued when he would inevitably hold you tightly in his arms when sleeping, his face pressed against your chest or vice versa, when he would glance at you and just know that even if a deity came down from heaven and made you bald, he would still find you attractive, when he would wonder why you lacked ambition when it came to romance, that was a big one. 

Factually, Senku had spent his time before conciliating sleep the last nights wondering about it; yes, he was against relationships and he thought love was illogical despite being science, but it bothered him that you were not paying attention to it, he would have noticed if you were, he would have seen your eyes flutter away from his gaze if you were getting flustered with his presence, or he would have heard a very reconditioned ramble about your feelings as a metaphor, but he did not. From your side, nothing had changed since the acknowledgement, you held him as close as before, you treated him the same as before. He wondered, and wondered, and wondered, why you didn't care for reciprocation? Or why you were fine with things being like they were? He wanted to know, but he did not want to ask. 

A loud thud from the sky. 

The villagers were talking about hiding from the wrath of the heavens, you laughed, after all lighting could kill and they were simple minded people. There was something comforting about thunderstorms. For some reason your mind wandered away as you all walked towards a mountain as per Chrome's guidance to catch some lighting. It had been a year before petrification, when Senku still hated you —allegedly not—, despite that he still crashed at your place to use your telescope, it was 3am or so, and you were watching a meteor shower together, he rambled about Leonids and you rambled about the feeling of the sky falling upon you, and then the clouds obstructed the lens and the sky roared in thunders; your words diverted to talking about the storm, and oddly, probably because of the sleep deprivation, Senku stayed quiet and listened to you. 

When you came back to reality, the rain had ceased and you were at the top of the mountain, with newly acquired strong magnets. The walk back to the village was full of chatter, Senku explaining to Chrome what to do next, Ginro mocking Kinro for the loss of his gold spear, Kohaku threatening Gen, it felt nice, but in that moment you missed the simplicity of modern life, at least from that Leonids thunderstorm.

"Still like thunders as much as ever?" Senku elbowed you softly to get your attention, it took you a second to process, but you nodded. "Tell you after?" 

"M'kay." 

He wanted to talk, chat about something stupid only you could understand, probably something modern, maybe Gen could understand too but he was still in a gray trust area, but he was busy. 

Melting more copper for the discs took some extra exploitation that thankfully Gen and Gan'en took care of. Making the generator was oddly simple, Chrome flattened the copper with corundum, Kohaku and Suika polished the edges and you covered the wire with lacquer. 

"Aren't you allergic to lacquer?" You asked, holding Senku's face. "You are going to die... and with that utterly ridiculous appearance after all! Years of farming charm, for nothing!" 

"I won't die, my farmed charm will remain in my inventory."

The generator was probably one of the easiest projects completed, forgetting the hellish iron baking and the life-endangering lighting chasing, but alas, it was done. Gen tricked Ginro and Kinro into powering the generator by insinuating that electricity could make gold and silver spears. So while they practiced, Senku and Chrome ran off to make something off bamboo while Suika, Gen and you cooked the lunch that Kohaku brought. Lunch was boring and you took a nap with Suika on the floor for an hour or so. 

The big reveal happened when it got dark. Chrome and Senku climbed to the top of the hut. You stood watching beside Gen and Kohaku, with Suika in your arms so she could see better how the light turned on once the bamboo filament entered in contact with the wires. It was a dim light that barely illuminated the thickness of the dark, it was nothing compared to neon or led lights from the city that would blind everyone, but it was so bright, it was like a star of its own realm, a star you all had built from nothing, a star to defeat the horrors of darkness, a spectacle of the world you used to know. It engulfed everyone's attention, rightfully so, even Kinro and Ginro looked at it in awe as they kept spinning the generator, and for a while everyone was silent, admiring it. Senku looked back at you, a grin of pride in his face, of accomplishment, one you reciprocated back with watery eyes; his eyes then darted to Gen, like telling you to look at him, and you did, the mentalist in complete shock, or fascination, or both. 

Everyone diverted to their own minds after that. Chrome entered the hut, Kinro and Ginro rested, Suika jumped to talk to Kohaku about it, Gen sat by a tree. Senku stayed on top of the hut, and you sat by his side. 

"That was dazzling." 

"I thought of the Leonids thunderstorm earlier." Senku said it straightforwardly. 

"Well, a rather interesting coincidence, me too. Nice memory, right?" You smiled at each other, and the silence sat with you for a while. "The light."

"What about it?"

"It's like a visage of time. Sometimes I feel like it is impossible to truly bring back civilization... not saying at all that I doubt you, but it seems so complicated in my mind. In the old world, advancements were made from things that already existed, and progress was a gradual process; we are working with nothing... it feels like it is impossible to bring back everything despite the science being there... and of course, it would not be the same, Heraclitus said it."

"The old man did, 'No man steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he is not the same man.' You are right... scientifically speaking at least, the only constant in this universe is change." 

"Well, look at you." You smiled at him. "Quoting an old master." 

"Don't get it twisted." His grin held a softness unusual to it. Your eyes followed his face, dimly with the light of the stars and the bonfire. 

"I'm proud of you." You cheered. "Not for quoting Heraclitus —well maybe a little—, but for everything; we all contributed to this, but without you it would have been a lost cause from the beginning."

"I don't care for gratification."

"Don't get it twisted, I am not thanking you for anything." Your clarification bothered him, you were right after all. "You don't need to act all cool and heartless with me, accept my words or perish, I know you have a heart buried somewhere between those science facts and witty remarks."

"Excuse me?" He asked baffled. "Unlike some others, I prefer to stay smart." 

"I think I am my own way of smart." You shrugged, pushing him sideways with your shoulder. "I am not neglecting my emotions in prowess of being cool."

"Oh you are not? Then what is up with us?"

"Refer to 'in prowess of being cool' now." You giggled. 

"Then in prowess of what?"

"Never imagined you wondered about it." A shrug from you, the night breeze blew on your asymmetrical hair. "I am fine with this. I think I have good levels of self control. I don't need anything."

"Where is your ambition?" Senku shook you, without much force.

"I don't think I have something like what people call a crush, I don't need to go on a date or hold your hand, I simply love you, it's simplistic. Regardless, it is not like you care, so...?"

After making sure to look around a few times and see that everyone was focused on their own matters, Senku nodded, but evil Senku did not stay satisfied so he pressed his hand on top of yours and leaned in close to your face.

"My! What a lovely—" Before Gen could complete his purr of nonsense, you moved away from Senku so harshly that you lost balance and inevitably rolled down from the top of the hut, falling ungraciously to the ground. 

"I'll assume that the person who fell from the slide with about the same height as a kid when we were in pre-k is fine and alive..." Senku mumbled as if his heart was not about to go out of his chest, not only because you fell but because his double-triple checking missed Gen. 

"...Alive." You mumbled too. Suika and Kohaku ran to check on you, Kohaku lifting you from the ground and sitting you up very softly. "I always thought I had dreamt falling from the slide... turns out it was real... it doesn't compare to this unraveling, but it is unassociated with the fall itself."

"Ah! I see, I know why, dear." Gen smiled, a little concerned though. 

"Gen, come here." You signaled and he knelt down, so you whispered something only audible for him to his ear and he stood up and ran to hide behind Chrome. 

"Witness aggression program, I love coercion into silence." Senku praised as he sat by your side, checking you better than his double-triple checking of the area. "Well the fun is over Kingdom, reunion now in the headquarters... Gen stays out like the family dog during a stormy night for being an asshole."

"No fair." Gen pouted.

"Sorry, animal rights have not yet been invented." Senku shrugged and walked to the hut, holding your hand. "It's for stability goddamnit, my patient here is idiotic and fragile." Senku pointed at you. 

"God dam mint." Suika repeated after Senku. 

For maybe 20 minutes, Senku talked about Gen's ambiguous moral standing to Kohaku, Chrome and Suika, while you rested defeated, too done with everything to participate and honestly drifting into sleep. You closed your eyes and heard Chrome trying to convince Gen to join because science was bad, Gen denying, Kohaku intervening, another explanation on morals that Senku butchered and you could have done better... that until Kohaku heard a noise and everyone rushed outside. 

"What happened..." At the edge of the entrance of the hut you asked. 

"Our family dog was mugged and is now dead." Senku summarized. 

"Oh." 

"Never fucking mind he is alive, we don't have to worry about explaining to Suika that not all dogs go to heaven after all." Senku sighed, logically happy that Gen wasn't dead. 

"Oh, good."

Kohaku brought Gen to the hut, and after laying him down, you saw how beaten he was. Senku prepared some herbs and placed them around his wounds and that was about it. Since Gen was too weak to give his testimony, Suika decided to go to the village to investigate, you told her to be careful and so the night ended. 

Kohaku and Chrome stayed over, just to check up on Gen, eventually you fell asleep but you felt Kohaku lying down beside you, so you instinctively hugged her. And as petty as Senku was, he laid down in the other side and pressed his back against yours very firmly just to remind you that he was there and he felt betrayed. 

Suika came back in the morning, and you all stood up at different times as if it had been a slumber party. 

"Magma...!" Suika said fidgety. 

Kohaku explained what had happened at their generational event and how she beat Magma to marry Ruri, and Suika pointed out how Gen had mislead Magma during the magnet's thunderstorm and he probably believed that Gen was the "sorcerer" that had arrived to the village. 

The day was slow, Kohaku trained with Ginro and Kinro, who agreed to join the kingdom, Chrome and Senku discussed who-knows-what and you brushed Suika's hair and talked to her about different things you considered she should know, like a basic lesson on language like the abc and showing her how to write her name. 

At night, everyone went to their huts, you walked Suika and Kohaku to the bridge and said the usual goodnights to them, then walked back to the hut. Senku was preparing some more ointments and Gen whispered something, so he leaned in to listen.

"Pfttt, fujoshis would have eat that up back in my time." You giggled pointing at them. 

"Shut up." Senku was quick to bark, but then signaled you to come closer and whispered to you. "We have a deal, all over cola."

"Ew." 

"I mean, whatever tickles his tickles." Senku shrugged and you laughed at his appropriation of your mannerisms. "Next thing we are making is glass."

"For the bottle, of course!" You said and Senku looked at you with a questioning face. "...And science-y stuff."

"Suika can't see very good, right?" Out of nowhere, Senku asked. You nodded, bothered by the fact that the small problem hindered her self worth so much. "First thing we are making is glasses for her." 

"Senku..." Moved to almost tears you said with tenderness.

"N-No don't even try it!" He said immediately. "It's for efficiency, if we level her up she will do a better job." 

His lame attempt for excuse did not permeate far and you knew the truth, so you thanked him, but at his refusal and denial of caring you launched yourself to hug him, imprisoning in your arms both as a joke and as a genuine act. 

taglist: @thelonestarinthesky, @bookworm-center, @iheartpieck

[ninibeingdelulu]

mello x female reader fanfic please

The only one who understand ✧

Plot: You have to care of his injured hands, since you’re the only one he don’t seems to loathe.

A/N: tyy for requesting,I made it quite long (I love Mello🙈).

The fortified sanctuary's hectic ambiance assaulted your senses the second you slipped back through the concealed entrance.

A cacophony of enraged shouts and visceral clatters erupted from every direction amidst the disorienting smokescreen of frenzied bodies scattering haphazardly underfoot like panicked rodents.

Grunting curses laced the stale air already thick with undertones of sweat, gunpowder and lingering cigarette haze.

Each booming impact and deafening crash colliding throughout the labyrinthine corridors reverberated exponentially more jarring than the last ricocheting against your rattled equilibrium.

It didn't require much investigative prowess to deduce Mello had predictably detonated into another hellish tempest once again thrashing a path of destruction throughout their illicit headquarters.

The volatile blond tempering every waking breath with constant reminders of his sworn vengeance against Near while pursuing that insatiable obsession to crown himself the true successor surpassing L's sacred legacy...

Sure enough, the first henchman stumbling within reach instantly recognized you gripped your sleeve yanking you directly into the ensuing chaos sweeping through their stronghold.

Their coarse raspy shouts strained against the cacophony struggled conveying intel about Mello raging ballistic yet again pummeling anything within reach while berating the whole incompetent crew over their latest "intolerable failure" chasing down potential Kira leads that could help thwart Near.

Until eventually the tantrum crescendoed into the unhinged maniac turning those pistol-whipping fists against his own physicality thrashing against every available surface amidst a frenzy of indiscriminate impacts until that unmistakable crimson liquid began splattering across his immediate radius.

"Just go talk some damn sense into that lunatic before he decimates the whole goddamn place!"

The grunt spat venom-laced demands punctuated by another tooth-rattling clang in the distance.

"You're the only one crazy enough he'll actually listen to instead of putting a fucking bullet between your eyes..."

True enough.

Throughout the countless weeks since becoming embroiled within Mello's ultra-clandestine syndicate operation, you'd cultivated an inexplicable rapport with the unstable wildcard harboring tempestuous complexities rivaling the most virulent hurricane season.

While the rest of his enlisted underlings cowered under the unrelenting brunt of those psychopathic tirades and physical outbursts on an almost daily cycle, somehow Mello left you largely untouched whenever his metal instabilities detonated.

Almost like he intuitively sensed any attempts to direct that scorching tempest your way would be met with an immovable force absorbing the impact rather than recoiling in fear.

Either out of calculating pragmatism assessing the futility after your first few indifferent brushes with those demonic bellows...or potentially recognizing shards of that same jagged internal shrapnel lodged within your own calloused essence resonating against those manic frequencies - you'd never really invested much thought deciphering the unspoken détente arising between you both.

Most days it simply existed lingering in the background behind those evasive glares and minimal exchanges required between two strangers bound by shared circumstance pursuing their own shadowy agendas.

Nothing more, nothing less - just the unspoken rules observed out of mutual indifference rather than genuine kinship.

Of course, that dynamic abruptly transformed whenever Mello erupted yet again unleashing those ungodly furies with even more ballistic intensity than usual.

Where his go-to lieutenants knew better than courting that explosive volatility's blast radius themselves, instead redirecting you towards diffusing those pressurized tensions threatening to rupture the entire syndicate apart through sheer centrifugal forces alone.

Your boots thumped across the reinforced steel grating resonating against every immobilized soul cowering under whatever futile shelter from Mello's path of destruction by the time you reached that familiar threshold outside his personal quarters.

Cautiously extending your knuckles against the cold slab you initiated the requisite succession of coded rapping signalings before easing the barrier open inch-by-inch.

"Mello, it's me..."

You murmured evenly keeping your tone deliberately hushed despite straining against the eardrum-pounding roars shuddering through every supportive crossbeam.

The shadowy silhouette towering past six feet instantly whipped around piercing straight through you from across that lightless chamber.

More sounds erupted reverberating against your ribs like shockwaves detonating directly behind that shrouded outline undulating with each strangled inhalation raging against whatever internal vortex still consumed every iota of Mello's essence.

Until a single gnarled fist suddenly slammed down splintering the heavy oaken desk's reinforced surface signaling that same rapt focal point now gravitating your direction with unmistakable intensity.

Even before any true details crystallized Mello's omnipresent perfume of melding tobacco resin and dark chocolate immediately smothered your sinuses simultaneously triggering a euphoric blisswave correlated with inhaling the mere ambrosial traces surrounding that masculine presence alone.

Physical sensations subconsciously registering beyond just his visually imposing specimen beneath those apocalyptic leathers concealing taut musculature undulating with each sinuous movement.

Despite the abyssal darkness veiling his striking features under those tousled blonde hair, the second those emerald daggers flashed into sharp focus drilling straight into your psyche's core something instinctual stirred to visceral awakening beyond just the typical detached placidness required during these outbursts' aftermaths.

Something primal and ancient roiled against those scorching radiations searing across your exposed meridians shattering every remaining pretense keeping those protective barriers upright.

At least until the full reality slammed home precisely what caused Mello to detonate into his latest raging furor this time unleashed against his own physicality.

"Your hands, Mello...oh fuck, what did you do?"

You muttered weakly in dismay tracking the thick crimson rivulets still oozing a fresh spiderweb of intricate tributaries across the backs of his knuckles speckled with mottled contusions already purpling the surrounding tissue.

The subterranean baritone emitting from his larynx rumbled seismic-grade frequencies rattling directly through your core nearly causing you to crumble under the inexorable gravitas.

"I've done nothing to deserve the time wasted worrying over anything so insignificant."

His lethally contemptuous rasp corroded any remaining self-composure away into atomic vapor particles along with the last vestiges restraining your own deep-rooted instincts.

Pupils blown wide you immediately closed the proximity chasm separating you both without conscious navigation permitting your impulses to seize the controls untethered from rational faculties.

"Insignificant to you maybe...but not to me. I'm not just going to stand back and watch you self-destruct whenever another inner demon you can't contain possesses you into violence."

You snapped with startling vehemence, already retrieving the medkit lashed around your shin before unzipping the storage pouches scouring for the necessary disinfectant swabs and gauzes.

Remaining hyperfocused through the flickering peripherals tracking his imperious silhouette rigid like a statuesque pillar appraising your sudden shift into unfamiliar dominance with an unspoken curiosity even amidst this latest eruption's chaotic maelstrom still encircling you both within its shadowy epicenter.

Despite the constant looming threat of triggering another powder keg detonation you refused to shrink under that oppressive umbra's scrutiny practically seething the contemptuous disregard for anything resembling self-preservation.

Instead doubling down upon stabilizing Mello's talons into your grasp before methodically dabbing their lacerations with the sterilizing solution triggering that sharp intake of breath fracturing the stiff facade momentarily.

"Why the fuck do you even care at all?"

He growled through gritted dentals straining under the sting's potent stinging allowing you to complete the field dressings against his other hand now.

"None of you mewling curs grasps the full stakes or reasons driving this crusade in the first place!"

You instantly halted meeting his pyroclastic glare directly without flinching away from the radioactive fury threatening to incinerate you at any second like damned souls tempting Hellfire's roiling oblivion up close.

A series of rapid blinks sluggishly tamped down the rising embers threatening to reignite your own internal inferno awakening from slumber at last after Mello's latest incendiary provocation...

"You're right - I don't understand whatever personal retribution possesses you into pushing everything toward these explosive breaking. But it’s maybe because I just don’t want to know.”

The shrouded lair's stifling ambience thickened into a dense miasma permeating every exposed surface while you instinctively held Mello's seething glare locked within your own.

Two disparate yet intrinsically carved souls simultaneously drinking deep from the other's darkest wellsprings momentarily exposed amidst this latest eruption.

Tension crackled against every ion reverberating between you both amplifying exponentially with each passing nanosecond.

Until eventually your defiant breaths steadied enough to puncture the loaded silence catalyzing Mello to finally break first.

"You really don't fear pushing any of my buttons at all, do you?"

He sneered in that distinctive raspy baritone simultaneously fascinating and petrifying in its lethality.

"Even knowing full well the kinds of primal savagery I'm capable of unleashing without hesitation."

His defined jaw clenched fractionally tighter enhancing each subsequent word's razor-edged enunciation slicing through the densely charged atmosphere.

"Yet here you remain unflinching while the rest scurry like cockroaches instead of honoring the reasons behind what fuels my relentless pursuit for justice against a world crumbling under its own corruption and depravity."

You imperceptibly gulped forcing down the electrified pulses igniting across your dermis from the scorching intensities radiating off Mello's magnificent towering specimen in such perilously close proximity now.

Still you refused ceding even an iota of faltering resolution keeping your vocals modulated towards an evenness defying the inferno singeing away the last vestiges of self-restraint.

"I don't understand whatever haunts the darkest recesses of your psyche propelling these obsessions to attain vindication at all costs."

You stated softly while unconsciously caressing the fresh dressings swaddling his pulverized hands stained with the evidence.

His piercing emerald orbs ignited brighter than any starburst you'd ever witnessed coring straight through into your essence's deepest marrow while both bodies slanted imperceptibly closer again.

Magnetically drawn into reigniting these raging pulsations coursing between your polarized charged fields once more.

"However I do comprehend the pain lying behind those cathartic outbursts all too intimately after enduring my own similar methods failing to purge those internal demons from my core."

You inhaled sharply maintaining eye contact while Mello's incendiary glower bored deeper dissecting each syllable.

"Recklessly lashing out against whatever targets are convenient for unleashing the full force of those turbulent tempests doesn't eliminate the hurt fueling them. It only propels perpetuating darker cycles consuming everything and everyone still possessed by those untamed torments."

The faintest flicker danced across his irises momentarily fracturing the obsidian mask's density with something unreadable yet distinctly...human?

Resonating against your own vulnerabilities before Mello regained that facade siphoning the potency back under ironclad subjugation immediately.

His nostrils flared fractionally while slowly rearing up until the imposing frame radiated down at you like an indomitable fortress's ramparts eclipsing everything else into insignificance by comparison.

That penetrating smolder remained affixed scorching away layer-by-layer until both essences bled together again forged solely through the primal fire's merciless crucible alone...

"You really don't fear me at all, do you....?"

The raspy whisper materialized directly against your ear's sensitized shell detonating shockwaves rattling every gaslit ganglion again.

Mello's muscular silhouette blotted away any remaining light bleeding through the chamber's partitions until just that singular immense corona remained glowing behind your retinae now.

Lording over everything with an intensity seizing away all self-possession spiraling your descent into purely instinctual compulsions alone surrendering to the unyielding gravitic force drawing you both closer...closer...until...

The scalding friction of his rough fingertips impacted your jaw trembling through the delicate musculature leaving smoldering trails in their wake while your irises rolled back overwhelmed by such potent sensory overload.

They traced upwards towards those angular crimson-kissed contours lingering within the crest before his forehead crashed against yours sending fractal sunbursts detonating outward against the rapidly contracting peripherals.

"You are the only one who doesn't run away petrified whenever I tear off the final mask restraining my most primal nature..."

He snarled under scorched breath dripping directly between your rapidly shallowing gasps.

"Instead you challenge the beast by refusing to submit or break no matter how intensely I provoke you towards unleashing your own inner demons in turn. Perhaps that is the real justice we both ultimately crave most of all..."

You bit your lips, eyebrows furrowing slightly at the sudden proximity of your bodies. Then, something snapped in him, realizing he let his emotions shown. Again.

First anger then, God he didn’t even know why, with you vulnerability.

He simply inhaled sharply, before storming out of his private room. Leaving you alone, your mind racing with questions you knew you will never have the answers.

[doomsayersunited]

A Decade Of Doom!

I started this blog ten years ago to compile the growing evidence that our planet would not longer be able to sustain human life by 2050, thanks to our continued, capitalist-fueled efforts to destroy all the systems we rely upon to sustain life. The first thing I put up here was this essay, on February 20, 2014. Now, a decade later, I thought it might be "fun" to look at what's changed: 1) Earth Overshoot Day

In 2014, "Earth Overshoot Day" (the day that humanity collectively consumes more resources from nature than it can regenerate over a year) was August 19th. Now, in 2024, Earth Overshoot Day is August 1st, 2.5 weeks earlier. At this rate and assuming things don't accelerate (even though they are likely to), Earth Overshoot Day will be around June 17th by 2050. 2) Biocapacity Biocapacity is the amount of resources contained on the planet required available to sustain life, measured by area. In 2014, I calculated that the planet had a biocapacity of 1.7 hectares per person. By dividing the total available biocapacity today in 2024 with the current global population as I did then, it now appears that there are just 1.5 hectares of planetary resources left per person to extract all the materials needed to sustain life, as well as all the area available to dispose of waste. That's a 12% loss over ten years. At that rate, we can expect to lose another 30% of biocapacity by 2050, going down to just 1.05 hectares per person by then, and that's assuming that the rate of biocapacity loss does not accelerate further and that the global population suddenly stops increasing after a run of non-stop increases spanning five centuries. Oh, also a reminder that the average human requires 2.7 hectares of land to sustain its current consumption habits/levels. So. 3) Individual Conservation To illustrate the futility of individual conservation at this point in the apocalypse, let me give you an example: If you were: a fully-vegan localvore living in a one-bedroom apartment with nine other people and using 100% renewably-generated electricity; who did not ever use motorized transportation of any kind or buy new clothing, furnishings, electronics, books, magazines, or newspapers and recycled all the waste you generated that was recyclable, you'd only require 1.4 hectares of biocapacity to sustain yourself. That is close to the kind of lifestyle extremism it would take to live sustainably. Deviate from that level of stoicism even slightly (say by living in a two-bedroom apartment with three other people instead of a one-bedroom apartment with nine other people and taking a single, four-hour roundtrip flight, once a year) and you're now consuming 1.6 hectares of biocapacity, which means you're using more resources than the world has available for you if everything was divided evenly among everybody. Of course, biocapacity, like all resources, are not divvied up evenly among everybody, which is why there are currently 114 different armed conflicts happening worldwide - the highest number of armed conflicts since 1946. 2023 was the most violent year in the last three decades. 4) Other Signs Of The End Times In my 2014 essay, I referenced the work of geologist Dr. Evan Fraser, who studies civilization collapse. In his book Empires of Food, Dr. Fraser noted common signs of a civilization about to collapse, which began to appear about two decades before it all goes completely to hell. Those signs were: -a rapidly-increasing and rapidly-urbanizing population We've added 700 million people to the planet since I began this blog in 2014. And where is everyone moving to?

-farmers increasingly specializing in just a small number of crops " "As farm ecosystems have been simplified, so too are the organisms that populate the farm.  A farm that specializes in a limited number of crops in short rotations does not, for example, look for plant varieties that do well in more complex rotations with intercropping.  A beef feedlot operation wants breeds that gain weight quickly on grain diets and does not want cattle breeds that digest well pasture grasses and thrive in all year outdoor environments on the range." The result? Recent estimates put the loss of global food diversity over the last 100 years at 75%. Over the 300,000 species of edible plants that exist, humans only consume about 200 of them in notable quantities, with 90% of crop plants not being grown commercially. -endemic soil erosion Climate change and the need to raise more crops have combined to increase the rate of agricultural soil erosion globally. Back in 2014, when I started blogging about the end of everything, the UN had already determined that there was only enough fertile soil left to plant 60 more annual crops. So, by 2074, we won't be able to grow food, full stop. This of course comes at a time when the global population continues to increase, and with it the need to grow more food. If projections are accurate, we will need to increase food production by 50% over the next three decades to feed everyone. -a dramatic increase in the cost of food and raw materials When I started this blog in 2014, I noted that 2011-2013 had seen the highest food prices on record. So what's happened since then?

It's important to point out here that the current food price spike started in 2020, so if Dr. Fraser's calculations are correct, the food system will collapse sometime around 2034, taking civilization with it. I closed my debut essay on this blog with a quote from the (now deceased) climate scientist Dr. James Lovelock, who advised a Guardian journalist to "enjoy life while you can. Because if you're lucky it's going to be 20 years before it hits the fan." That interview was published in 2008. We have four years left to enjoy.

[nanamineedstherapy]

Tactical Crocs & Emotional Warfare

F!Reader x Gojo Satoru x Nanami Kento

Previous Oneshot Chapter [Tumblr/Ao3] | Main Series [Tumblr/Ao3]

A/N: When your security team costs more than a small country's GDP but the real threat is a raccoon with a Hermès addiction. Enjoy this slice of domestic terrorism (ft. Gojo’s tactical Crocs). No spoilers, but someone does get scolded via Chopin.

Int. Private Security Room—Night—14 Hours To Cameras Up

The koi pond feed flickers. A baby sock drifts across the surface. Nobody flinches.

Half the screens are silent surveillance footage: nursery, koi pond vault, her lower office, the terrarium room that used to be a guest bath. Takahashi (the raccoon, not the CFO) sleeps curled on a miniature futon in a separate window—one paw flung over a satin pillow like royalty.

The red alert blinks in the upper left corner: VOGUE JAPAN CREW ARRIVES. TO BE HELD IN GREEN ROOM.

Nanami Kento doesn’t look up. His pen glides over a set of architectural schematics—his third revision in as many hours. He’s in matte black tactical Kevlar (no one knows why at this hour), sleeves rolled to the forearms, sorcery glasses glinting under sterile lighting. There’s a faint ink smudge on his wrist. He’s furious about it.

Gojo Satoru sits across from him in a Hello Kitty hoodie and tactical Crocs, chewing lychee Pocky like he’s running hostage negotiations out of a Daiso. His wayfarers reflect the screen showing his stolen blindfold around Takahashi’s neck like he’s cosplaying “Bandit” in his sleep. The six-eyes wielder looks like the kind of genius whose brain can calculate missile trajectory mid-nap but will forget to refrigerate breast milk.

Around them, the highest-paid security personnel on the Pacific Rim. A blend of private military, cyberwarfare analysts, and cursed-artifact consultants. Some sip espresso from tactical thermoses. Others pretend they’re not being paid eight figures plus to protect a non-sorcerer pregnant woman, two war criminals, and a possibly sentient raccoon.

The Executive Protection Team (Core Security) had primarily been assembled by Megumi, and they relocated with you to Japan after your marriage, remaining fiercely loyal but now having an equal number of Nanami and Gojo’s people, ex-Jujutsu Teachers (sorcerers).

Former JSDF Special Forces Operatives (1st Airborne Brigade or Special Operations Group)  (¥60M+ each).

Japan's equivalent to Navy SEALs/Delta Force, trained in high-risk protection.

Ex-Metropolitan Police Department (MPD) Security Police (SP) Officer. (¥50M+ each).

SP protects Japanese VIPs (e.g., PM, royals). Only available if retired early. Know all police protocols to avoid legal issues.

Cursed Energy Security Specialists Team (for Sorcerer-Level Threats).

Ex-Jujutsu Tech Professors (Non-Gojo Clan, Independent) (¥100M+ each).

Detects/neutralizes curses without relying on Jujutsu High. 

Limitation: Hard to find; must be lured with extreme pay.

Cursed Artifact Security Consultant (¥80M+ each).

Prevents cursed objects from entering the home (e.g., "gifts" from enemies).

Background: Former curse-user turned private sector.

Cyber/Electronic Warfare Team (For Tech CEO Threats).

Ex-Unit 8200 (Israeli Cyber Intel) + NSA Hacker (¥120M+ each).

Best in the world for preventing corporate espionage/blackmail.

Loophole: Hired as a "consultant" to avoid gov restrictions.

Japanese Cyber Defense Force Veteran (¥60M+ each).

Knows domestic cyber laws inside out.

Perk: Can legally bug your own home (with consent).

Logistics & Emergency Extraction Team.

Private Military Contractor (PMC) Pilot (Ex-USAF/JSDF) (¥70M+ each).

On standby with a private jet/helicopter for emergency medevac (pregnancy risks).

Loophole: Based in international waters (Okinawa) to bypass Japanese airspace laws.

Medical Security Specialist (Ex-SAS Medic) (¥50M+ each).

Trauma Care + can extract during a curse attack.

Perk: Licensed to carry restricted meds (e.g., sorcerer-grade painkillers).

Most of them report to her.

The wife.

CEO.

Third trimester.

Currently asleep, head tilted into Nanami’s neck like a sleepy heat-seeking missile, his other arm absently braced around her to stop her from falling off the ergonomic stool she refuses to replace.

A hushed voice cut through the tension. “She’s got a bounty on her.”

Nanami slammed a folder onto the table hard enough to rattle the coffee cups, his sleeves rolled up to expose forearms corded with muscle. “If we die, Protocol A-47 activates. She goes to the koi pond vault. No exceptions. Tranquilize her if necessary.”

The ex-fighter pilot—a woman with a scar bisecting her eyebrow—leaned back in her chair, flicking a toothpick between her teeth. “We have tranquilizers because she once roundhouse-kicked a logistics officer during a VR Mortal Kombat session. Broke his nose.”

Gojo licked sugar from his thumb and added, “Double-layer barrier on the nursery and Takahashi. If something happens to that raccoon, I’m flattening a country. I won’t say which. It’ll be a surprise.”

The NSA hacker, a twitchy man with dark circles under his eyes, flinched when the raccoon sneezed. “Why does the raccoon have his own panic room?”

Keji—sleek in his silk shirt, biceps straining the fabric as he crossed his arms—didn’t blink. “He has three. One is lined with titanium. One is wallpapered with Gojo-san’s baby photos. We do not enter it.”

Nanami’s pen paused mid-note, his gold wedding band glinting. “She’s not a combatant. She can’t defend herself against c-users.”

Gojo’s smirk vanished, his voice dropping to something darker. “And now, her bounty matches mine.”

The silence in the room was palpable, a live wire. Takahashi, curled in his heated pet bed, let out a tiny snore.

The SAS medic—a woman with a coiled braid and a grip that could crush tracheas—rubbed her temples. “We’re glorified nannies. Emotional support detail. Decoys.”

Nanami didn’t look up. “In case both of us die, Keji initiates the escape route. She doesn’t know about it. She already has insomnia. And stop calling it Project: Dead Dads.”

A former JSDF SOG operative, a wiry man who looked like he hadn’t slept in days, swallowed audibly. “Do we evacuate Takahashi?”

Gojo’s fingers stilled on his watermelon lollipop wrapper, the crinkle deafening. “What did I just say.”

Keji turned toward the security feeds, his profile sharp enough to draw blood. “He has a private jet. Smaller than Madame’s. Faster. I’m not authorized to speak why.”

Nanami’s glasses caught the light as he flipped a page. “There are four exit tunnels. One goes through a matcha café. Another leads under the koi pond, keyed to her retinal scan and Takahashi’s scent profile.”

The ex-jujutsu sorcerer—an older woman with ink-black nails and a lazy, lethal posture—stretched like a cat. “I taught metaphysics at Yale.”

Gojo’s grin returned, wider. “Now you guard a raccoon with a Hermès sponsorship and a platinum AmEx. Life’s a ride.”

An ex-MPD VIP guard, a hulking man with a baby face, muttered into his comms. “I used to run fintech. Now I sterilize breast pumps and sleep beneath a floating shikigami terrarium.”

Ignoring him, Nanami’s thumb brushed the edge of his wedding ring. “In an active threat, she and Takahashi go in the bunker. Keji, you emotionally stabilize her. Feed the raccoon his lavender sardine paste.”

Keji’s jaw tightened, leather gloves creaking. “It’s handmade. Infused with omega-3 and respect. I recite Edith Piaf while preparing it.”

Gojo twirled his sunglasses. “He even sings La Vie en Rose during thunderstorms.”

The lights flickered. No one moved.

Takahashi’s screech echoed down the hall—a sound like an opera-trained kettle being murdered.

Nanami didn’t react. “Seventy-five minutes. That’s all they’re allowed in the residence. Treat this as a red-tier civilian intrusion. Assume bugs, surveillance, and attempted breaches.”

Gojo licked his lollipop slowly. “And no touching the raccoon. She said she’ll cancel the shoot if they mess with his whiskers.”

Every head nodded. No one questioned it.

The upgraded chief logistics officer—a woman with a steel-gray bob and a sniper’s stillness—tapped her tablet. “We’ve staged all bathrooms, prepped diversionary designer fragrances, and disabled motion sensor lighting in the koi corridor. It made the raccoon look too... strategic.”

Keji, adjusting his gloves, coolly added, “Takahashi is sentient. And emotionally fragile.”

Nanami’s voice was sharp as a blade. “Staff wears navy. Press wears tags. Anyone untagged after the 42-minute mark: detain.”

The ex-Metropolitan Police officer, a woman built like a brick wall with a matching smirk, raised a brow. “If questioned?”

Gojo’s teeth flashed in a grin. “Blame jet lag. Or say they threatened the raccoon and his wildlife habitat.”

Another nod followed, deadly serious.

Nanami’s watch gleamed as he switched tabs. “Lighting rig pathways are pre-approved. No one enters the nursery, gaming room, or her lower office. Those are closed sets. If they insist—deny with polite aggression.”

Gojo pointed at the NSA tech, who shrank in his chair. “If they get pushy, hand them the fake NDA. The one with clause 14 about raccoon-based defamation lawsuits.”

The tech, a freckled kid who looked barely old enough to be here, stammered, “We scrubbed her images from the mob lynch incident off the internet. All reverse image searches redirect to a red fox in a Dior scarf.”

Keji’s mouth curled into a smirk. “We paid extra for that one. The fox is a union.”

The medical lead—a woman with biceps that could crack walnuts and a glare to match—slapped her protocol sheet down. “She’s on four prescriptions. None are to be mentioned. If she starts to spiral—”

Keji’s smile was all edges, his gloved fingers tapping once against his biceps. “I’ll realign her using the 'accidental' footage of Nanami-san cooking shirtless last week. It’s preloaded. Subtitled. And scored with Chopin.”

Nanami’s pen froze mid-air. “That wasn’t for anyone.”

Gojo, sprawled across two chairs, licked his lollipop with deliberate slowness. “It was for me. Obviously.”

An ex-JSDF pilot—a woman in her 50s with salt-and-pepper hair and a posture that screamed combat-ready—adjusted her earpiece. “Chopper’s on standby. Six-minute extraction from Okinawa. The vault opens in two. If she won’t move, the fetal monitor’s embedded in her gaming chair.”

Nanami's wedding band caught the light as he massaged his temple. “She won’t move. Not if they bring up Gojo’s hair again.”

Gojo’s sunglasses slid down as he jerked upright, voice dripping with offense. “My hair is real. Shut up.”

The cybersecurity lead asked, “Do we allow footage of the nursery?”

Nanami didn’t hesitate, his voice a steel door slamming shut. “No. The twins will not be monetized.”

Gojo twirled his sunglasses, his grin razor-thin. “Also, the wallpaper isn’t finished, and she’ll have a hormonal breakdown.”

The MPD veteran, a barrel-chested man with a voice like gravel, scratched his stubble. “What if they film the raccoon singing? The sound’s been... described as ‘emotional.’”

Keji turned to the camera, his smirk all quiet arrogance. “He sings behind silk. You hear him only if he allows it.”

Nanami’s finger traced the exit tunnel diagram, his glasses glinting like a warning. “Only Keji knows all exit codes. If she starts crying—”

Another SAS medic—a woman with a shaved head and a stare that could curdle milk—didn’t blink. “We sedate her and blame prenatal yoga. Like last time.”

The mood in the room remained tense.

Nanami’s knuckles went white around his folder. “We protect her. We protect the twins. You protect that damn raccoon like he’s the crown prince of France. If she stubs her toe and Vogue sees it—this entire household is done.”

Another NSA hacker, a young woman fixing her gloss, muttered under her breath. “She has three degrees, and one of them is in an unknown field. So I’m pretty sure she could crush this whole network if she wanted to.”

Keji leaned back, satisfaction rolling off him in waves. “She has. Twice.”

Gojo chewed the last of his lollipop. “Accidentally.”

The lights flickered—once.

“One lipstick smear on the marble. One wrong tote bag. One smug remark about ‘modern poly households’—I will end this.” Nanami’s final note was a scalpel to the throat, but his gaze softened as he glanced at his wife dozing on his shoulder, her cheek smooshed against the Kevlar vest.

Gojo rose, stretching with all his lazy grace, kissed Nanami's temple just to annoy him before scooping their wife into his arms like she still weighed nothing. Her sleepy “mmf?” earned a chuckle as he adjusted the hem of her shirt over her bump as she put her arms around him. “Smile for the cameras tomorrow, people,” he purred to the team, but his wedding ring-adorned finger brushed her knee—a silent you’re safe—as he carried her toward the bed, her breathing already muffled against his shoulder.

The private feed cut.

The koi pond glowed an eerie blue.

The single baby sock is still floating over it.

Video Title Card: The Pregnant CEO, The Two Husbands, and The Raccoon With Executive Privilege.

---

A/N: If you laughed, cried, or now fear Nanami’s spreadsheet skills, scream at me in the comments. (Gojo’s ego needs the validation. Takahashi demands tribute in lychee Pocky.)

Previous Oneshot Chapter [Tumblr/Ao3] | Main Series [Tumblr/Ao3]

Next Chapter Gojo Satoru’s Public Display of Wife Theft [Tumblr/Ao3]

All Works Masterlist

Beta - @blackrimmedrose

[moonflowergirlsworld]

Yandere Drabble

Aalto

On the surface, Aalto appears to be driven by money and self-interest. He’s unpredictable and skittish, often leading others to underestimate him.

However, this façade hides his real intentions: he’s actually deeply calculating, gathering information, and keeping you close, all while you think you are in control.

Aalto is always around, gathering intel and manipulating circumstances in the background. He doesn’t make his presence known directly, instead working from the shadows and quietly positioning himself as a valuable asset to you.

Based on Aalto’s personality traits and the way he operates, he would fall under the category of Cunning and Mysterious Yandere—a type that’s elusive, and highly strategic in keeping his obsession under wraps.

Aalto's obsession would be quiet, calculated, and full of layers that you wouldn’t immediately notice.

Aalto's yandere tendencies would be subtle, intricate, and wrapped in layers of deceit, like a spider weaving an inescapable web around his beloved.

He wouldn’t show his obsession outright, that’d ruin the fun.

He could appear in his your life as a helpful stranger, a harmless passerby, or even a rival—all to keep tabs or steer events to his liking.

Aalto’s love would be a game of carefully orchestrated moves. He would keep his true feelings hidden behind a facade of erratic behavior and his "greedy" persona.

Aalto would use his vast network and mastery of intel to monitor your every move. If you even think about slipping away, he already knows where you’ll go before you do.

He’s a master at blending into the background, adapting to whatever situation or emotional state is needed. He’ll appear to be an unpredictable, chaotic person, but underneath, he’s meticulously observing, adjusting, and ensuring you never see his obsession.

Fair exchange, but only his version of “fair”.

If you want freedom, it’ll cost you dearly. He’d propose choices that always lead back to him, making it seem like your dependence on him is your own doing.

He might even use Encore to emotionally trap you.

He’d play the part of a trustworthy confidant, always there to support and protect, while subtly undermining any relationship or connection that threatens his position in your life.

“You came to me again,” he murmured, his tone smooth yet laced with a subtle satisfaction. “Funny how that keeps happening. You must trust me a great deal.”

His “help” often feels like a gift, but it comes with a price. Aalto will make sure you become dependent on him—he’ll always be the one with the answers, the connections, the solutions—but only if you accept his terms, his rules.

“You pay me in the sweetest currency of all: trust.”

He gives nothing freely and expects something in return for every favor, whether it’s an action, trust, or subtle loyalty. He doesn’t force your feelings, but he ensures that you only have one choice in the end: him.

“Freedom is an illusion, my dear, And you’re already mine.”

You’d never know you’re trapped. Aalto’s obsession is so meticulous, so quietly suffocating, that you might think you’re the one seeking him out, relying on him, and loving him of your own free will.

His obsession isn’t violent or overt—it's psychological and strategic.

“Your availability to anyone else depends on my remuneration—your love, your loyalty, and your every thought.”

He controls your reality through information, trust, and the illusion of freedom. His unpredictable exterior masks the fact that everything is meticulously planned.

“As long as you're willing to pay the price, I’ll always be here. You’ll need me more than you think."

Once you are caught in his web, there is no escape because you  are led to believe you are in control, even when you aren't.

By the time you realize the extent of his obsession, it may be too late.

Aalto’s quiet influence will have shaped your entire world, and you will be so deeply dependent on him that leaving is no longer an option.

He will become your world, your protector, and your only ally. His love, while never overtly possessive, will be inescapable—because once Aalto has you in his sights, you belong to him, body and mind.

[venussaidso]

Vedic Astrology Observation (based on shows/films part 4)

I'm watching the series Archer and I guessed three main nakshatra archetypes correct! This includes Uttarabhadrapada, which is so potent in the two of the most prominent female characters in the main character's life.

First of all, this series is about espionage. So immediately, I know there are moon nakshatras. The main character, Sterling Archer, embodies lunar qualities: being a secret agent, going undercover, using disguises/aliases, trickery etc. etc.

Another hint that supported my theory of the character being lunar is how the fandom literally compare his character design to Henry Cavill who is a Shravana Moon.

As Henry Cavill is also famous for being in the espionage, spy film The Man From U.N.C.L.E.

Another hint is Archer being a huge fanboy for Burt Reynolds who he inspires after or quotes during his epic, spy missions. And Burt Reynolds is a Hasta Moon, Rohini Ascendant.

Burt Reynolds even guest starred in an episode as himself and we see our main character fanboying throughout.

Burt Reynolds is famous for his spy film Operation CIA in which he plays a CIA agent who is undercover as a university professor.

The character Sterling Archer has to be voiced by a moon nakshatra native, right?

Finally, I went out to find the voice actor and calculated his vedic chart. Thank goodness the guy has his birthtime available; and accurate, at that. And I guessed right!!! 😭👇🏼

Just like Henry Cavill, also Shravana, who was a highly voted candidate in the fandom to play the live-action version.

But, in the very beginning of watching this series, the character Sterling immediately struck me as a Sun nakshatra native. His inability to commit to a relationship or anything; having zero devotion to anything.

He improvises everything; not much of a planner which makes him come off more carefree. He is missing this cold, lunar quality to him of being a strategist or even just being highly intelligent. I've always believed that Sun men are quite... bimbos, to say the least. Claire Nakti explored this in her Sun dominant men video more articulately and respectfully; and Archer embodies this energy too.

So, in the beginning episodes of the series, I believed he was mainly Sun dominant before witnessing other aspects of the character expanding.

I also noticed that he is emotionally volatile and loud and extremely comedic, which is not really Solar or Lunar, but Rahuvian. And guess what? The voice actor is an Ardra Moon, which makes a lot of sense.

But, I was right, again, to assume him being a Sun nakshatra. Because the voice actor also has Krittika Sun. Ha!

The reason why his Sun nakshatra was more blatantly obvious in the beginning for me was because of his relationship with his ex girlfriend, Lana!

Lana, whose character design is quite literally inspired by Rihanna's physique.

Rihanna, who I personally believe is an Uttarabhadrapada Ascendant, as her birthtime is rated C (unlikely to be accurate). And even if you don't think she's Uttarabhadrapada, fine, but the character Lana is.

She is the Saturn nakshatra archetype.

She's very kickass, warrior-like and has a masculine edge— which are the type of characters usually played by Saturnians/Uttarabhadrapadas.

I immediately noticed with how she butts heads with Archer. Uttarabhadrapada is a nakshatra in which its women are known for emasculating other male archetypes/even going head to head with men ruled by fiery-hot planets such as the Sun. Their chemistry in the series is the epitome of the Saturn woman x Sun man pairing.

Sun and Saturn are literally mortal enemies.

But people with this planetary rulership tend to be intrigued by each other. It seems to be very similar to having an intense square synastry with someone, in my opinion, which might add sexual/romantic tension more often than not.

Archer's mother is another important female figure in his life who is also Uttarabhadrapada.

She's a hardened woman who is in charge of a spy agency, a masculine job, and she acts or looks very similar to characters such as 1996's Cruella Deville or Miranda Priestly (both also played by Saturn nakshatras; both characters' hair are pale white).

Malory Archer quite literally ruined her son's life since he was born; always emasculating him even in his adult life. She's had a very cold, (Saturn) oppressive nature towards him since he was young. Saturn nakshatras are either known to humiliate its natives, or natives under this nakshatra lord will further humiliate/abuse others into their cold grip.

A trope I've seen often with this nakshatra, which makes sense if you think of them being the literal ice dragon.

I immediately noticed that she is Uttarabhadrapada not just from her masculine, commanding role in the series— but from the outfits she wears in every episode. She's always wearing cold colours, especially powder blue.

Uttarabhadrapada characters almost always have something significant that is coloured blue, which you'll always associate with the character; as Claire Nakti brilliantly pointed out in her Uttarabhadrapada video. And that's how I knew.

And her relationship with Lana, who is also very Uttarabhadrapada coded, is interesting. The same way Sun men tend to respect each other and always find each other from across the room, Saturn women always have a quiet air of respect for each other's strength.

The first time Malory met Lana, she pointed a gun to her head and Lana stubbornly stood her ground. It was like Malory immediately recognized herself in Lana. She was so impressed by her that she hired her to work at her agency as a top spy, just like that.

I was so certain that they were Uttarabhadrapadas and finally had the courage to check their charts AND I WAS RIGHT! Both voice actors are Uttarabhadrapadas!!

Their dynamic features this very Ascendant-Moon synastry — I definitely couldn't have guessed that one. This synastry quite literally demonstrates seeing yourself (Moon) in someone else (the Ascendent person). I've been very into studying synastries lately and it's always interesting how it plays out.

Anyway, now it makes sense why Sterling has a connection with Lana. Even though Lana isn't half as worse as Malory, I've always noticed their similarities. Like Lana, Malory used to be a kickass, spy lady before Sterling was born. They both have very sharp, stern personalities and are frequently annoyed by Sterling's existence. And in Sterling's case, it is true that you'll subconsciously seek out traits in a partner that are similar to your parent's.

Also, Sterling's unhealthy relationship with women & sex (unsuccessfully) fills up the empty hole inside of him that was supposed to be nourished by his mother's love as a child. This makes him fearful of intimacy and closeness, which is common with Sun nakshatra natives.

Malory's neglect is still a running gag in the series — she's emotionally hardened which is a prominent theme for Uttarabhadrapada (especially for the female natives). Being the middle nakshatra in the Pisces segment, it truly is the only Pisces that can struggle with intimacy, vulnerability or melancholic fluff. Which makes sense as Saturn is there. Luckily in Revati, there is more freedom and unrestrained expansion. There is a reason why Venus exalts in 27° of Pisces, where Revati lies. Revati is everything love and philosophical. Uttarabhadrapada isn't always comfortable expressing sentimentality, as they tend to be very self-restraint or outwardly hardened.

Anyway. I'm not done with the characters. I'll make a part 2 once I have the energy.

Ugh I'm sooo good at guessing nakshatras! LMAOO 😭

Especially moon nakshatras. I'm still so intrigued by moon men.

[adnauseum11]

Restricted Operating Zone (John Price x Reader)

Kate has a job offer for John.

850 words

CW: swearing, reference to oral sex

Kate considers it lucky that John is about as relaxed as she’s ever seen him, because he’s not going to be pleased when she delivers the lines she’s been asked to say. John’s a pro, surely, he knows how it goes. Kate’s orders aren’t her own half the time, and often not a first choice. 

“You’re looking better every time I see you, John, still having fun in retirement?”

John nods slowly, a flicker of something crossing his face before he replies. 

In a split second he’s called forth an image in his mind’s eye of his love, her leg thrown over his shoulder and fingers tangled in his hair while he knelt before her in the shower. Her head thrown back as she cried out into the steamy room. She had given him shit over making her cum that hard before work, which had made him laugh. She would be back by now, rattling around alone in that drafty, shitty place she was calling home for the moment.  

“Yeah, you could say that.” He plays a card and leans back, observing her. “Any particular reason you mention it?” He may be out of work but his senses are still keen to corporate grade bullshit. 

“We’ve been having issues with an objective-“

“Oh hell –“

“Just hear me out John” Kate’s trying to get a word in edgewise but John’s not entertaining it.

“No, I don’t need to hear what you’re gonna say. The answer is no.”

Kate sighs, knowing it would go this way and yet, she still has a job to do. She presses on, pushing her luck as much as she dares. She waits a few extra beats to play her card – both literally and figuratively - not because she is unsure, but because she needs John to settle. It works and the anger bleeds out of his eyes, replaced with the cold calculating look she’s more intimately familiar with. 

“They’re offering a wildly lucrative contract. It’s a highly sensitive mission, small task force, Gaz is available and will sign on if you do. An intercept and collect. Exfil already lined up. Just need a signature on the dotted line.”

“Laswell, I’m going to get you a hearing aid for your next birthday. No.”

“John, I wasn’t authorized to accept ‘No.’ This needs to happen, or shit gets hairy on a global scale. Hence the price tag. One last job and you can set up shop with your little missus. I’m guessing you two are still seeing each other?”

The mention of John’s love in the same breath as work makes him clench his cards. His focus narrows onto Laswell, and she has the presence of mind to be uncomfortable with his sudden laser focused attention.

“What did you just say?” There’s a very real threat of menace in his tone.

“Hey – ho. This is a friendly card game, folks. Kate, don’t talk shop at the card table.” Kate’s wife attempts to intercede, placing her own cards down and looking from guest to guest with concern. 

Every invited guest around the table has worked with Kate, and understand the implications of the work. None have worked as long or as closely with Kate as John, and even retired he’s a leader. All eyes swing to Kate to see how she will react. 

“I never see him anymore unless it’s here at cards.” Kate says by way of defence, petulant even in the face of a pissed off John Price. “All I’m saying is it would be nice to start a new life with a nest egg, is all. What if she gets sick?” Her tone is innocent but John sees red.

Kate’s wife is shaking her head in warning, but Kate is too bullheaded to take the advice on. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want to see you unless we’re playing cards, Kate.” John responds coolly, folding the cards in his hands flat against the table. “I served my time. I’m moving on with my life. Don’t mention her again, that’s a warning.” His big frame is sitting fully upright now, the loose-limb posture he’d been in since he’d arrived evaporating. 

“You’ve got 96 hours to decide John, or the offer disappears.”

“I don’t need any hours to decide, Laswell, ‘cause I won’t be attending your latest clusterfuck. In fact, I’m not going to attend this poker game.” John throws what could have been a winning hand on the table and stands abruptly.   

“John, there’s no need – “ 

Kate’s backpedaling, realizing she’s overstepped far too late. 

“I’ll see you in a few weeks. In the meantime, don’t contact me.” 

John tucks the chair back into place with way more force than necessary, spilling Kate’s drink as it collides with the frame of the table.

“Jesus Christ Kate – “ 

Her wife is wide-eyed, staring at her with disappointment as John yanks his coat from a peg, slamming the door on his way out.

“Shit.” Kate curses, holding her dripping cards up.

“Did that go how you hoped? Maybe listen to your wife next time.”

Taglist:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos

Next Chapter

[cathkaesque]

Statement on Israel’s Use of Starvation as a Weapon of War in Gaza by the Union of Agricultural Work Committees, Palestine

For five days, Israel has attacked Gaza with the aim of total destruction, and the situation is at an unprecedented level of urgency. Israel’s actions have amounted to a humanitarian catastrophe of unfathomable proportions. At the time of publication, the Palestinian Ministry of Health reports 1,055 martyrs and approximately 5,184 injured.

Israel has declared a total warfare stance on Gaza, imposing a ruthless blockade that denies over two million Palestinian residents of Gaza access to electricity, water, food, fuel, medical supplies, and any humanitarian aid. Israeli Defense Minister Yoav Gallant explicitly stated this strategy on 9 October 2023, saying: “We are imposing a complete siege on [Gaza]. No electricity, no food, no water, no fuel – everything is closed. We are fighting human animals, and we act accordingly.”

Israel’s deliberate use of starvation as a weapon of war demands the international community immediately respond with unwavering urgency and resolve.

Israel is indiscriminately decimating hospitals, schools, mosques, markets, and entire neighborhoods. Further, Israel threatened Egypt that it would bomb humanitarian aid deliveries to Gaza, prompting Egypt to withdraw its aid convoys. The Rafah Crossing into Egypt, the sole international exit from Gaza, has been bombed by Israel three times in a 24-hour period. This calculated assault severs Gazans’ only means of escape from ceaseless bombings or access to essential humanitarian aid. With Israel cutting off Gaza’s source of electricity, the only source of power was the Gaza Power Plant, which has just run out of fuel. In the case that it receives more fuel, Israel has threatened to attack the plant.

Israel’s assault is deliberately destroying any infrastructure that allows Gazans to support themselves. Vital agricultural and fishing infrastructure, crucial for food production, have been mercilessly attacked. Fisher folk cannot access the sea, into which sewage is spilling. The seaport is damaged, and tools are obliterated. Farming areas, often near the fence, have become vulnerable targets in Israeli airstrikes, and farmers whose land has not been destroyed cannot access it for daily agricultural practices. The Ministry of Agriculture reports that the bombing has done immense damage to agricultural areas and poultry farms, but the conditions make it impossible to precisely assess the situation in the field. There is a catastrophic decrease in food stocks, with shops across Gaza reporting severe shortages. The land and sea will face unimaginable environmental damages following these attacks, further preventing efforts to rebuild livelihoods.

Israel’s strategy aims to ensure that those who survive the bombs are condemned to a future without sustenance.

OCHA reports that the assaults have disrupted the UNRWA food operation, impacting at least 112,759 families. The poultry and livestock sectors are on the brink of collapse due to the severe shortage of fodder, endangering the livelihoods of more than 1,000 herders and affecting over 10,000 producers. This jeopardizes the provision of animal protein and the availability of meat and fresh sources of protein for Gaza’s entire population. Transportation of poultry to markets has virtually halted, and dairy cattle milk cannot be refrigerated nor marketed to factories, resulting in an expected daily spoilage of 35,000 liters of milk. More than 4,000 fisheries are at risk due to the closure of the sea. Gaza’s agriculture, poultry, cattle, fish, and other products are suffering from a lack of refrigeration, irrigation, incubation, and other machinery due to electricity cuts, causing spoilage.

Israel’s use of these tactics is not new by any means. Before Saturday, around 65% of the Gazan population was food insecure. More than 46% of the agricultural land in Gaza was inaccessible, and the fishing industry was severely struggling since fishing off the coast of Gaza has been restricted by Israel to 3 to 6 nautical miles.

Food insecurity is a human-made crisis, and Israel is manufacturing a mass starvation of the Gazan people.

It is the moral and legal obligation of the international community to intervene and end this crisis immediately. Food, as a basic necessity, must be allowed to reach the people of Gaza, and the deliberate targeting of civilian infrastructure must cease without delay.

We call upon the international community to take immediate action to stop Israel’s massacre of the Gazan population, demand the lifting of the siege, and establish humanitarian corridors for entry of aid.

[roseaesynstylae]

Jedi-related Technology — Light of the Jedi

These were the crafts of the Jedi Order, their Vectors. As the Jedi and the Republic worked as one, so did the great craft and its Jedi contingent. Larger ships exited the Third Horizon’s hangars as well, the Republic’s workhorses: Longbeams. Versatile vessels, each able to perform duties in combat, search and rescue, transport, and anything else their crews might require.

The Vectors were configured as single- or dual-passenger craft, for not all Jedi traveled alone. Some brought their Padawans with them, so they might learn what their masters had to teach. The Longbeams could be flown by as few as three crew, but could comfortably carry up to twenty-four — soldiers, diplomats, metics, techs — whatever was needed.”

“The Vectors were as minimally designed as a starship could be. Little shielding, almost no weaponry, very little assistance. Their capabilities were defined by their pilots. The Jedi were the shielding, the weaponry, the minds that calculated what the vessel could achieve and where it could go. Vectors were small, nimble. A fleet of them together was a sight to behold, the Jedi inside coordinating their movements via the Force, achieving a level of precision no droid or ordinary pilot could match.

They looked like a flock of birds, or perhaps fallen leaves swirling in a gust of wind, all drawn in the same direction, linked together by some invisible connection…some Force. Bell had seen an exhibition on Coruscant once, as part of the Temple’s outreach programs. Three hundred Vectors moving together, gold and silver darts shining in the sun above Senate Plaza. They split apart and wove into braids and whipped past each other at incredible, impossible speed. The most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. People called it a Drift. A Drift of Vectors.”

“[…] Weapons on a Vector could only be operated with a lightsaber key, a way to ensure they were not used by non-Jedi, and that every time they used, it was a well-considered action.

An additional advantage— the ship’s laser could be scaled up or down via a toggle on the control sticks. Not every shot had to kill. They could disable, warn…every option was available to them.”

“They were riding in another vehicle customer-designed by Valkeri Enterprises for the Jedi — a Vanguard, the land-based equivalent to the Vector. It was also sometimes called a V-wheel, even though the thing didn’t always use its wheels to get around. Every Jedi outpost had at least one as part of its standard kit, and the machine was engineered to operate in all of the planetary environments in which those stationed were situated [?]. It could operate as a wheeled or tracked ground transport, or a repulsorlift speeder for ground too rugged for tank treads. A Vanguard even had limited utility as an amphibious or even submersible vehicle, being able to seal itself off entirely as needed. It could do everything but fly, and that came in handy on Elphrona, where the planet’s strong magnetic fields made certain regions utterly inhospitable to flying craft.

The overall aesthetic was analogous to Vectors — smooth, sleek lines, with curves and straight edges integrated into an appealingly geometric whole. Behind the seats in the driver’s cabin — currently occupied by Indeera Stokes and Loden Greatstorm — was a large, multipurpose passenger area, with space to store any gear that a mission might require. Vanguards were more rugged than Vectors, but were built with many of the same Jedi-related features as their flying cousins. The weapons systems required a lightsaber key, and many of the controls were mechanical in nature, so as to be operated — in an emergency — via an application of the Force rather than through electronics.

No Jedi would use the Force to accomplish something as easily done with their hand — but lives had been saved by the ability to unlock a Vanguard’s hatch from a distance, or fire its weapons, or even make it move.”

“Indeera slipped past them to the rear of the vehicle, where its two Veil speeders were stored on racks, one above the other. Like all the Valkeri Enterprises built for the older, they were designed for Force-users, and as such were delicate, highly responsive machines. Little more than a seat strapped to a hollow duralium frame, with a single repulsor and four winglike attachments that sprang from its side, a Veil was basically a flying stick. But if you knew how to to ride them, they were incredibly fast and maneuverable. A group of skilled riders, with lightsabers out and ready, could take down entire platoons of armored vehicles while sending blasterfire back at attackers.”

“At the moment, she was aboard the Ataraxia, the Jedi’s beautiful, elegant starship, almost a temple in and of itself.”

“Another ship was visible on his display, outside his command authority but certainly an ally: the Ataraxia, the one large starship under the direct control of the Jedi Order. It was a beautiful ship, designed to subtly evoke the Order’s symbol with its hull and sweeping, curved wings accented in white and gold.”