#project viability

[oliviasmith3324]

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[justinspoliticalcorner]

Walter Einenkel at Daily Kos:

“There is no state in this country where it is legal to kill a baby after it's born,” Davis said before allowing Harris to respond. “Well, as I said, you're going to hear a bunch of lies. And that's not actually a surprising fact,” Harris said. “Let's understand how we got here. Donald Trump hand-selected three members of the United States Supreme Court with the intention that they would undo the protections of Roe v. Wade, and they did exactly as he intended. And now, in over 20 states, there are Trump abortion bans, which make it criminal for a doctor or nurse to provide health care in one state.”

On the debate stage Tuesday night, Kamala Harris torched Donald Trump’s nonsensical lies on abortion and his role in getting Roe overturned that has led to several states with abortion bans.

Harris dropped a truthbomb with this quote: “One does not have to abandon their faith or deeply held beliefs to agree the government and Donald Trump, certainly, should not be telling a woman what to do with her body.”

Moderator Linsey Davis delivered a brutal fact-check to Trump’s bogus lie about post-birth abortions that don’t exist (which it’s called infanticide).

See Also:

HuffPost: Kamala Harris Absolutely Skewered Trump On The Abortion Mess He Created

From ABC's coverage of the Debate, via PBS News:

[lunar-years]

Brett Goldstein leading man rom com but it comes at the price of also being a JLo production…. 😞

[s-lycopersicum]

These "gigantic if/else blocks that run the whole game" stories always felt to me more like "developer crimes" rather than "computer crimes", you know?

Like, for the computer, it does not (or at least, it should not) matter how this logic is strewn out. Sure, it'll be a bit slower, but those are hardly critical applications.

Now, any other humans who will need to make changes to that code (or, perish the thought, debug it) may have a couple of different things to say about it.

[briohydro]

Start Smart: Feasibility Study for Hydroponic Farms

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[no-passaran]

Genocide experts warn that India is about to genocide the Shompen people

Who are the Shompen?

The Shompen are an indigenous culture that lives in the Great Nicobar Island, which is nowadays owned by India. The Shompen and their ancestors are believed to have been living in this island for around 10,000 years. Like other tribes in the nearby islands, the Shompen are isolated from the rest of the world, as they chose to be left alone, with the exception of a few members who occasionally take part in exchanges with foreigners and go on quarantine before returning to their tribe. There are between 100 and 400 Shompen people, who are hunter-gatherers and nomadic agricultors and rely on their island's rainforest for survival.

Why is there risk of genocide?

India has announced a huge construction mega-project that will completely change the Great Nicobar Island to turn it into "the Hong Kong of India".

Nowadays, the island has 8,500 inhabitants, and over 95% of its surface is made up of national parks, protected forests and tribal reserve areas. Much of the island is covered by the Great Nicobar Biosphere Reserve, described by UNESCO as covering “unique and threatened tropical evergreen forest ecosystems. It is home to very rich ecosystems, including 650 species of angiosperms, ferns, gymnosperms, and bryophytes, among others. In terms of fauna, there are over 1800 species, some of which are endemic to this area. It has one of the best-preserved tropical rain forests in the world.”

The Indian project aims to destroy this natural environment to create an international shipping terminal with the capacity to handle 14.2 million TEUs (unit of cargo capacity), an international airport that will handle a peak hour traffic of 4,000 passengers and that will be used as a joint civilian-military airport under the control of the Indian Navy, a gas and solar power plant, a military base, an industrial park, and townships aimed at bringing in tourism, including commercial, industrial and residential zones as well as other tourism-related activities.

This project means the destruction of the island's pristine rainforests, as it involves cutting down over 852,000 trees and endangers the local fauna such as leatherback turtles, saltwater crocodiles, Nicobar crab-eating macaque and migratory birds. The erosion resulting from deforestation will be huge in this highly-seismic area. Experts also warn about the effects that this project will have on local flora and fauna as a result of pollution from the terminal project, coastal surface runoff, ballasts from ships, physical collisions with ships, coastal construction, oil spills, etc.

The indigenous people are not only affected because their environment and food source will be destroyed. On top of this, the demographic change will be a catastrophe for them. After the creation of this project, the Great Nicobar Island -which now has 8,500 inhabitants- will receive a population of 650,000 settlers. Remember that the Shompen and Nicobarese people who live on this island are isolated, which means they do not have an immune system that can resist outsider illnesses. Academics believe they could die of disease if they come in contact with outsiders (think of the arrival of Europeans to the Americas after Christopher Columbus and the way that common European illnesses were lethal for indigenous Americans with no immunization against them).

And on top of all of this, the project might destroy the environment and the indigenous people just to turn out to be useless and sooner or later be abandoned. The naturalist Uday Mondal explains that “after all the destruction, the financial viability of the project remains questionable as all the construction material will have to be shipped to this remote island and it will have to compete with already well-established ports.” However, this project is important to India because they want to use the island as a military and commercial post to stop China's expansion in the region, since the Nicobar islands are located on one of the world's busiest sea routes.

Last year, 70 former government officials and ambassadors wrote to the Indian president saying the project would “virtually destroy the unique ecology of this island and the habitat of vulnerable tribal groups”. India's response has been to say that the indigenous tribes will be relocated "if needed", but that doesn't solve the problem. As a spokesperson for human rights group Survival International said: “The Shompen are nomadic and have clearly defined territories. Four of their semi-permanent settlements are set to be directly devastated by the project, along with their southern hunting and foraging territories. The Shompen will undoubtedly try to move away from the area destroyed, but there will be little space for them to go. To avoid a genocide, this deadly mega-project must be scrapped.”

On 7 February 2024, 39 scholars from 13 countries published an open letter to the Indian president warning that “If the project goes ahead, even in a limited form, we believe it will be a death sentence for the Shompen, tantamount to the international crime of genocide.”

How to help

The NGO Survival International has launched this campaign:

From this site, you just need to add your name and email and you will send an email to India's Tribal Affairs Minister and to the companies currently vying to build the first stage of the project.

Share it with your friends and acquittances and on social media.

Sources:

India’s plan for untouched Nicobar isles will be ‘death sentence’ for isolated tribe, 7 Feb 2024. The Guardian.

‘It will destroy them’: Indian mega-development could cause ‘genocide’ and ‘ecocide’, says charity, 8 Feb 2024. Geographical.

Genocide experts call on India's government to scrap the Great Nicobar mega-project, Feb 2024. Survival International.

The container terminal that could sink the Great Nicobar Island, 20 July 2022. Mongabay.

[Maps] Environmental path cleared for Great Nicobar mega project, 10 Oct 2022. Mongabay.

[joncronshawauthor]

🧟‍♂️ Story Progress & Reflecting on Platforms | Author Diary - July 26, 2024 🎉✨

📝 Progress on “Punks Versus Zombies”:This week has been productive with the completion of three new episodes of “Punks Versus Zombies.” I am now approaching the final act of the series, a phase filled with anticipation and excitement as I aim to wrap up the story in a satisfying manner. It’s thrilling to see the end in sight, and I’m eager to bring a compelling conclusion to the fans of the…

[iibdevelopmentgroup]

Public-Private Partnerships (PPPs) have emerged as a robust solution for financing large-scale infrastructure projects. This innovative approach leverages both public and private resources to drive infrastructure finance in District of Columbia, addressing the funding gaps that often hinder critical developments. By integrating private sector efficiency with public sector oversight, PPPs create a balanced framework for sustainable growth, ensuring that essential infrastructure projects are both feasible and well-executed.

[reasonsforhope]

"Environmental groups are claiming victory after Mitsubishi Chemical Group dropped plans for a $1.3 billion plant in the heart of Louisiana’s industrial corridor. 

In the works for more than a decade, the chemical manufacturing complex would have been the largest of its kind in the world, stretching across 77 acres in Geismar, a small community about 60 miles west of New Orleans. Tokyo-based Mitsubishi cited only economic factors when announcing the cancellation last week, but a recent report on the plant’s feasibility noted that growing community concern about air pollution could also hamper the project’s success. 

“The frontline communities are fighting back, causing delays, and that amounts to money being lost,” said Gail LeBoeuf with Inclusive Louisiana, an environmental group focused on the industrial corridor along the Mississippi River known as Cancer Alley.

The nonprofit group Beyond Petrochemical declared the project’s failure a “major victory for the health and safety of Louisianans.”

According to Mitsubishi, the plant could have produced up to 350,000 tons per year of methyl methacrylate, or MMA, a colorless liquid used in the manufacture of plastics and a host of consumer products, including TVs, paint, and nail polish.

The plant was expected to be a major polluter, releasing hundreds of tons per year of carbon monoxide, nitrogen oxides, volatile organic compounds, and other harmful chemicals, according to its permit information...

In July, a report on the plant’s viability warned that a global oversupply of MMA and fierce local opposition made the project a “bad bet.” 

Conducted by the Institute for Energy Economics and Financial Analysis, the report said that credit agencies are paying more attention to “community sentiment” about petrochemical projects, particularly in Louisiana. In Geismar and other parts of Cancer Alley, there’s a “disproportionately heavy concentration of polluting industrial facilities” and Mitsubishi could become “entangled in a decades-long dispute involving issues of racial inequality and environmental justice,” the IEEFA report said. 

Geismar residents are surrounded by about a half-dozen large chemical facilities that emit harmful levels of air pollution. Of the more than 6,000 people who live within the 3 miles of the planned project site, about 40 percent are Black or Hispanic, and 20 percent are considered low-income, according to federal data. 

“The air here is already so dirty that the kids can’t play outside anymore,” said Pamela Ambeau, Ascension Parish resident and member of the group Rural Roots Louisiana.

The proposed plant is the latest in a string of failed industrial projects in Cancer Alley. Since 2019, local activism was instrumental in halting the development of two large plastics complexes in St. James Parish and a grain export terminal in St. John the Baptist Parish. All three projects would have been built in historically Black and rural communities."

-via Grist, January 16, 2025

[hivemuthur]

Tightrope - Ch.2.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit!, frenemies/academic rivals to lovers, modern university AU. This is part of a request for @pxszels

Ch.1. | Ch.3.

word count: 5,4K

tag: #tightrope

summary: You and Viktor are tethering the line between friendship and rivalry, Jayce being one amongst the few common factors you both acknowledge (of course more is there but for the smart people you are, you tend to be very stupid about things). Oh, and you have to do a project together.

author's note: okay, things escalate, all I'm gonna say :v Very dubious science warning and thank you @rennethen for beta reading!

also the artist behind art is here!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

A lot of intrusive thoughts clatter through your mind as you glare pure death at Viktor, sitting two chairs away from you. Jayce—a buffer that protects the both of you from yourselves.

Strangulation is the first, most obvious one, but it dangerously quickly turns into something borderline erotic when you watch Viktor’s neck. And you really stare at it—the sharp angle of his jaw turning into the smooth column, porcelain skin interrupted with freckles, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he speaks out his infuriating truths. Ugh, since when is this happening?

The second, also obvious, is electrocuting him—just successfully this time. But then again, an unbidden image breaks into your mind’s eye: Viktor’s startled expression, his hand clutched to his heaving chest, hair tousled from the electric current, cheeks a bit flushed under your palms cradling them.

The heat on your own face almost betrays you, but fortunately, the picture of Viktor’s mouth saying I could make you gag gives you a comfortable explanation for the roses blooming across your cheeks—you are just really, really pissed.

You’ve been at each other’s throats for over a week now, and each encounter has been a small battle to win. So far, as expected, it’s a tie, but you are determined to stomp his head into the ground, his ear in your teeth.

You’ve just sat through Viktor’s answer to Heimerdinger’s conundrum:

"Given the choice between a platinum-based catalyst and an experimental cobalt-nickel alloy for an industrial hydrogenation reaction, which would be the superior option in terms of efficiency and long-term viability?"

"If the goal is efficiency, the answer is already clear," Viktor says in a flat tone, and you almost break your pencil. You parrot his voice in your head, your face doing a tiny, mocking expression—one that Jayce immediately counters with puppy eyes.

"Platinum’s catalytic activity remains stable across multiple reaction cycles, and its surface energy allows for consistent molecular interactions," Viktor continues, his posture so unbothered it’s as if he’s already won. "Even if alternative materials show potential, they introduce variables that compromise long-term reliability."

"You're focusing on controlled lab conditions, but industrial applications aren’t perfect systems," you mutter, leaning over your desk and addressing the entire thing to Heimerdinger. "In real-world settings, we need materials that are adaptable, not just reliable in a vacuum."

Your tone becomes more passionate, encouraged by Heimerdinger’s eager nodding. "The alloy has a wider range of operating conditions and costs significantly less—why cling to a metal that’s prohibitively expensive when there’s a viable alternative?"

"You're assuming ‘viable’ just because it works in some conditions," Viktor counters, his voice clipped, clearly irritated. "There’s a difference between potential and actual applicability. Platinum has proven efficiency—your alloy is a gamble."

You huff, leaning forward and turning to face Viktor this time, as Jayce slowly sinks into his chair. "And you're assuming ‘superior’ just because something is well-documented? Science doesn’t advance by relying on what’s already been done. You can’t just dismiss an emerging material because it makes you uncomfortable."

Viktor’s lips curl slightly in that way that always makes you want to throw something at him. "Uncomfortable? No, I simply prefer optimised methods over—what was it—guesswork?"

Your jaw tenses. "Right, because clinging to the safe choice is the height of scientific innovation."

"Optimisation and recklessness are not the same thing," Viktor snaps.

"No, but stagnation and cowardice are pretty damn close."

That’s probably what prompts Heimerdinger to finally step in.

"As fascinating as it is to observe your ongoing academic duel, might I remind you that this is a classroom, not a battleground?"

The words should sting, should make you shrink into your seat, but the bemused glint in his eyes softens the blow. Viktor, ever the picture of self-restraint, merely tips his head, as if the interruption is a minor inconvenience. You, on the other hand, can’t quite suppress the triumphant curve of your lips as you lower yourself back to your seat.

Heimerdinger sighs. "If either of you would like to continue this discussion, I suggest you do so after my lecture."

You don’t quip a single sound throughout the rest of the class, and Viktor doesn’t either. You can feel his eyes on you periodically—or rather, you can see them in the corner of your eye when you try to make it look like all your focus is directed at Heimerdinger’s blackboard.

By the time you get to worrying about how your afternoon project session with Viktor is going to go this time, the class ends, and Joe picks you up for breakfast. A brief reprieve is interrupted by Viktor’s dry, “Don’t be late this time.” But before you can poke his eye out with a pencil, he passes right by you without even sparing a glance.

All that tension dissolves into laughter when Joe makes fun of your miserable crossword choices.

“Aren’t you supposed to be ridiculously smart?” he teases, tapping his finger against the newspaper. “Why the hell did you put 'Beethoven' for ‘Famous deaf baseball player’?”

You groan, snatching the booklet back. “I was in a rush!”

Joe smirks. “The answer is Dummy Hoy, by the way. Actual deaf baseball legend. Try to keep up.”

“Well, excuse me, smartass!” you say, flashing a ludicrous grin as you hurriedly scribble over the letters. “Huh, okay, it does fit. Words are not my strength, what can I say.”

Joe hums, watching you with an easy smirk as he takes a ridiculously large bite of his apple. “What are your strengths, then?” he asks, chewing thoughtfully.

You tap the end of your pencil against your chin. “Huh. Engineering, I suppose. And I’m a pretty okay friend, I’d like to think.”

Joe raises a brow, amused. “A pretty okay friend? I’m not sure I can resist such attractive advertising.”

“Oh, shut up,” you scoff, nudging his arm. “I’ve had some bumps in my record recently.”

Joe’s smirk softens into something more genuine. “As I said—I probably won’t resist.” He leans back, tossing his apple core into a nearby bin with practiced ease. “And speaking of being good friends, since I do aim to become one, I should probably drop you off at the lab?”

Your stomach drops. “Oh, shit, yes. If we want me to live, definitely yes.”

You shove a chocolate bun and all your other things back into your bag and urge Joe to move faster, which prompts him to pry whether the skinny guy glaring daggers at you in front of the classroom can really do any significant damage. He demonstrates a few rugby pacifying moves, which you try to take with a straight face—but you burst out laughing when, just as you reach the lab’s door, he tells you, “Remember the dump tackle.”

And you have no idea where the urge to hold your breath as you enter comes from but releasing it upon seeing that your two favourite buffers—Jayce and Sky—are there to ease any blow coming your way makes you feel somewhat lighter. They sit hunched over their notes, so you only wave hello and approach Viktor, who is leaning over the intricate layout of books and papers splayed across the workbench.

"Glad to see you on time for once," he mutters, not even bothering to spare you a look.

"I tried very hard," you sigh, dropping your heavy bag onto the floor. "For you."

He smiles. Odd. The smile vanishes as quickly as it appears, and Viktor is back to his stuck-up self when he turns and says, in a tone seeping with boredom, "Alright. I rewired the band properly while you were gone. It's time to discuss the possible power supplies."

Properly, huh. "What do you have in mind?"

Viktor straightens, gesturing vaguely to the mess of notes sprawled across the workbench. "A micro thermoelectric generator would be the most efficient choice. Converts body heat into electrical energy—self-sustaining, minimal maintenance, and no reliance on external charging."

You arch a brow. "Efficient, sure. If you ignore the fact that it's highly dependent on temperature gradients. The output fluctuates, and if the user isn't generating enough heat, the power supply suffers. You'd be relying on biological inconsistency."

He hums, noncommittal. "There are ways to stabilise it. A supplementary capacitor—"

"Which introduces another point of failure," you cut in smoothly. "Supercapacitors have high charge cycles, but they degrade. If we're adding redundancy, why not go with something that guarantees a steady output?"

Viktor glances at you, unimpressed. "And what would you propose?"

"A miniaturised kinetic energy harvester." You lean forward, tapping a finger on the notes in front of him. "Energy is gathered through natural movement—walking, gesturing, any kind of physical motion. The output is consistent and doesn’t rely on external conditions."

"Consistent, yes, but also inefficient in comparison." He tilts his head, eyes narrowing. "Kinetic harvesters require constant motion for optimal performance. What happens when the user is sedentary? The energy reservoir drains, and there is no backup supply."

You purse your lips. "Then integrate both. A hybrid system—kinetic as primary, thermoelectric as auxiliary. Movement generates most of the power, and any residual body heat supplements it. Redundancy without overcomplication."

For a moment, Viktor is quiet, his fingers idly tapping against the workbench. Then, almost reluctantly, he gives a small nod. "A reasonable compromise."

You blink. "Did you just agree with me?" Unthinkable. But you do have witnesses.

He exhales sharply, picking up a pencil. "Do not make me regret it."

Before you can fire back, Jayce, having had enough, loudly shuts his notebook and stretches. "Alright, I am starving," he announces, shooting a meaningful glance at Sky. "Lunch?"

Sky, who has been keeping her head down and very obviously pretending not to listen, perks up immediately. "Oh, yeah. Definitely."

Neither of them waits for an answer before standing. Jayce claps you on the shoulder as he passes, his voice overly casual. "Try not to kill each other before we get back."

"Can’t promise anything," you mutter.

Sky just snorts as she follows Jayce out, leaving you alone with Viktor, making the forced civility even a bigger challenge. He writes down your ideas on the board, when a loud growl of your stomach makes him pause.

“Haven’t your himbo—erm, sorry, Joe—fed you properly?”

“Get lost,” you counter stupidly, rummaging through your bag for your safety bun. You tear off a piece with exaggerated nonchalance, throwing Viktor a shit-eating smirk. “He fed my soul.”

Viktor rolls his eyes, unimpressed. “Good for you,” he grumbles, turning back toward the board, but you catch the briefest flicker of something—mild annoyance, maybe—as he refocuses on his work.

Viktor taps his fingers against the edge of the workbench, gaze fixed on the equations scrawled across the board. “The issue with the stability of the connection isn’t the materials themselves,” he says, his tone clipped with focus. “It’s the uneven current distribution. If we integrate a secondary regulator—” He gestures to a hastily drawn diagram, circling a particular point with the chalk. “—we can stabilise the output without overhauling the entire circuit.”

You exhale sharply, arms crossed. “That’s just putting a bandage on it.”

“It’s refining, not patching,” Viktor corrects, finally glancing at you. “A full redesign would be unnecessary, and we don’t have the time for it,” he mumbles, less sure of himself and you take a note of his brows furrowing.

You linger on the rebuttal, but ultimately, you step forward, coming to stand beside him. Your eyes scan the board, taking in the schematics, the modifications—annoyingly, frustratingly sound. You rub at your temple and sigh.

“Okay. Okay,” you state firmly, staring at the board. “I will admit the superiority of your idea over mine, because I am decent.”

You turn to Viktor, for once glad to admit defeat with such grace—only to catch him outright staring at you, his eyes almost absent. It usually doesn’t take him that long to formulate a comeback that is supposed to land like a slap but of course bounces off and figuratively flares up on his cheek instead.

No slapping this time, though.

“What are you looking at?”

“You have a—” he says quietly, pointing at the corner of your lip.

Your hand flies to your mouth, wondering how long you’ve been walking around with a chocolate moustache before he noticed. You nag at the spot with your fingers, but Viktor scrunches his eyebrows, looking almost pained when he whines, “God, not here.”

“Well, you showed me there!” It’s ridiculous, but you actually laugh, still trying to blindly locate whatever food dirt clings to your mouth after eating that cursed bun.

“Ah, damn, not here—here!” Obviously, you’re doing a poor job because Viktor huffs, half-annoyed, his lips turning into a pitying smile. “Ah, just—” He sighs, exasperated, then finally—oh.

He licks his thumb, stills you with a hand on your shoulder, and leans in. “Let me,” he murmurs, swiping his wet thumb over your skin.

“Oh.”

Viktor does such a great job of not looking at you while performing his little mercy that this gesture—almost sweet, if you two weren’t dangling from that tightrope right now—might have had a chance of passing as friendly. Maybe—if his touch resembled that of a mother cleaning dirt off a child’s face. Maybe—if his thumb weren’t caressing your lip with lingering tenderness, as if trying to memorise the order in which your mouth would wrinkle were it to come to kiss his.

He’s possibly, most likely done at some point, and you should be all cleaned up. But he doesn’t stop. He takes in your face—chin tilted up, leaning into his touch. Eyes hooded, defenceless. Such a gentle, fragile picture before him, so different to the way your mouth twists into a groan when you see him or the way you smirk when your insult lands on a fertile ground.

A calloused, trembling thing keeps swiping over your lips, and you inhale sharply. His hand shifts from your shoulder to your neck, and your eyes fall closed.

And then, oh, he still doesn’t stop.

His hand is shaking, breath held tight in his chest. Quivering fingers—index and middle—ghost over your upper lip, and for the love of everything sacred, you have no idea what overcomes you. When you part your mouth.

Viktor has a faint idea of what possesses him when he accepts the invitation and slides his fingers inside. It’s that nagging, ever-present thought—or wonder, rather—of what this mouth feels like from the inside. He’s thought about shutting your yapping mouth many times before. He just didn’t know his fingers would do as good a job as his tongue.

For a moment, it’s so insanely erotic that your brows scrunch. He pushes in and out, glides over your teeth and tongue. It’s all quiet, just the soft clicks of your make, until—

“Oh, fuck,” Viktor exhales, his thumb swiping beneath your jaw.

You hold him firmly between your lips and, at one point, even hum softly as his fingers part and graze the inside of your cheek. With a sharp exhale, he retreats, dragging your spit over your skin before cupping your face.

Your eyes open, and he’s so close you can taste his breath. An impossible moment.

You don’t think. You just do.

You let your face be pulled closer and closer until you think his mouth almost brushes yours—when your eyes meet. And then Viktor looks to the door.

His expression changes. A spatter of darkened gold flicks between the entrance to the lab and you, back and forth, before suddenly—he withdraws. His hands leave you in an instant. He rushes away, drops onto a stool, grabs a notebook, and starts scribbling as though nothing happened.

And you barely manage to take a ragged breath before the door swings open, laughter spilling inside—Jayce’s, loud as ever, followed by Sky’s.

Jayce looks around, eyebrows raised. “Huh. Nothing’s on fire for once.”

He passes you, and you can only bulge your eyes out to yourself, the only silent embodiment of the shock coursing through your veins. And goddamn it—Sky fucking catches it.

“Are you okay?” she asks, stopping in her tracks, eyeing you from head to toe.

First, you nod. Many times. Smiling like an idiot, completely fake. “Yes.”

“What was that then?” She mimics your expression, and it looks so fucking stupid you almost snort—but unfortunately for you, Jayce sees what Sky is trying to express, and now his attention is on you.

Quickly, you turn back to your previous position, lean on one leg, drill your eyes into the board, and a half-smile onto your face.

“I’m just… thinking. With my face. About this,” you gesture vaguely to whatever Viktor managed to cross out and write over in your split second of focus.

“Just some internal monologuing. In fact,” you say, slapping your thighs. “I need to… excuse me for a second—” is the only thing you manage before turning on your heel and rushing out.

Jayce immediately turns to Viktor. “What did you do?”

But you don’t hear the answer. You let your face twist and turn as you walk fast through the corridors, bumping from door to door, praying that one of them will be unlocked—some classroom or a janitor’s closet good enough for you to hide and slam your fists against a wall.

Finally, you find one—a small storage room stocked with backup sanitary items for disinfection. You barge in, leave the door ajar, and begin your dance.

You fall into a crouch and contemplate whether you could scream. You probably can’t, so you just hide your face between your knees, bury your hands in your hair, and mouth, What the fuck?

You take a couple of breaths. Stand up, take a few steps. A thousand expressions fly across your face as your mouth falls open and closed between cut whispers, crumbs of your thoughts. No and what and oh, God fall out, barely audible, as you gesture wildly with your hands and walk around in a tiny circle.

You try to jump it out, kick something that’s not there, before muttering, fuck. What the fuck. Then, a long exhale, and your hands just fall to your sides.

Fuck, again.

You press your lips into a thin line and breathe heavily through your nose, eyebrows all scrunched.

“Are you alright?” Viktor’s voice startles you.

He is standing in the doorway—for God knows how long—and you just clutch a fist to your chest, still unable to speak.

He stares at you, half-smiling at this display of internal conflict. He looks like he wants to say something. Or like he wants you to say something. You have no idea.

The longer you don’t speak, the more worried his face becomes. You take two steps toward him—then turn again, leaning over a small table. Then straighten back up, mouth something at him, but it’s impossible to say what. Chew on your cheek to the point of drawing blood.

As you get closer and closer, something breaks within you. Your hands reach for him—then retreat again. One more step, and one more.

And Viktor is stuck in place in the doorframe, having not even the faintest idea what to do.

Finally, you’re so close you could touch him. And you nod, as if to yourself, as if admitting some kind of defeat—when your hands cup his face, and you close the distance between his mouth and yours.

Just one kiss. Deep but fleeting, no tongue.

When you break away, you lick your lips and look at his nose. You make a tired, strangled sound, but Viktor doesn’t let you back away further.

He hooks his cane over his forearm, hands come to grab your waist and your neck, and he kisses you back—this time with tongue. Walks you inside, breathes through his mouth into this kiss that is neither fierce nor gentle. It’s just… so wanting, his moans are almost cries.

And you, too, want him to the point of crying out, when your hands don’t calm down with his touch—simultaneously mussing his hair and tugging at the collar of his shirt, signalling you want it off, you want to feel more of him. You slide your fingers underneath, nails scratching his collarbone, and he releases a low growl into your mouth.

It must look absolutely idiotic, when you bend backwards and pull him with you, making him hunch to not lose your lips, and Viktor stumbles, almost knocks you over before using your body for balance. You wrap your arms around his neck so tight his head almost snaps off and he responds with an equal strength of his palms crushing your ribs.

Hoarse breathing and little needy cries fill the tiny space, and you almost rip the shirt off his back, until—

The sound of your name echoing down the corridor startles you.

And then—

“Viktor!” Jayce calls. Behind him, Sky calls yours.

You detach from each other, panting, pure peril oozing between you.

“I’ve messed you up,” Viktor says quickly, adjusting your shirt back into your skirt. You could smile at the sweetness of the gesture, but—

The voices—closer, and closer, and closer.

“God, your hair,” you whisper, hands flying up to smooth down the strands you’ve mussed with panicked fingers.

Viktor’s hands drop from you. He lets you fuss over him but the more you touch him the more distant his expression grows. You almost deem your work decent, when he leans back in and shoveshis tongue into your throat again, as if he can’t stay away.

“Viktor, no, they will—”

You get cut off by a firm push to the table. He steps between your legs, yanks the door closed with his cane, and clasps a hand over your mouth.

“Quiet,” he pants. “They won’t.” And then he licks your neck, and your legs kick around him, thudding against the table leg.

“Shh, quiet,” he whispers between breaths. Bastard drags his tongue up your neck again, his free hand coming to pin your wrists together on your stomach. A kiss under your ear, a gentle suck of his lips gets your thighs clenching, trapping him between your legs and he has the audacity to smirk against your skin.

The sweet torture continues, when, feeling your fidgety hands grow pliant he releases you, only to use the newly gained freedom of his arm to slide a flat palm up your back, between your shoulder blades, all the way up so his fingers brush under your hairline before grabbing a fistful at the base of your skull. Have you known any better, you would bite the silencing hand, but you moan into it instead.

The moan dies into a whine, when Viktor’s tongue abandons your neck, and he comes back to look you in the eye all serious, then kisses the knuckles of his own palm as if they were your lips. “I meant it when I said I could gag you,” he hums and either he is not ready to see your eyes rolling to admire the insides of your eyeballs or the mere thought gets him to turned on his lids shut involuntarily.

And when Jayce and Sky clearly trot right next to the door that is now holding a secret dearest to your heart, you both freeze and keep your eyes shut, following the moronic rule of if you can’t see them they can’t see you either.

“All right, I’m ready to give up,” Jayce says, and Sky responds with nothing, but you can see her nodding in your mind’s eye. “Let’s just hope there aren’t any bodies lying around come morning.” That, Sky dignifies with a chuckle.

You both listen to the sound of their chatter and steps descending down the corridor in complete stillness, and when he is absolutely certain you are now truly alone, Viktor releases your mouth, its tender flesh pulled with his retreating hand, a quiet sticky sound follows.

He bites on his lower lip and stares at the glistening inner side of his palm for a moment and you wonder if he contemplates whether to lick it or wipe it into his pants. Then, he looks back at you, unsure and searching and you take one more step toward utter insanity, wrapping your legs around his and fisting his crumpled shirt.

“Is that a yes?” he asks against your mouth, cane comes to rest by the table and needy hands accept the invitation before his brain does as they cup your ass, pressing you against him. The feeling of his cock, hard between your legs and straining in his pants sends a cramp all the way to your core.

“A yes to what?” you bounce the question off as your tongue darts to lick his upper lip.

“To gagging,” Viktor still tries, but the chuckle gives him away.

“You’re disgusting,” you snort, nearly into his mouth. He swallows it in another kiss, prettier than the last one, gentler. Deeper as well, when he cups your face and licks into you through pleased hums, his eyelashes brush underneath yours and you can smell chalk and paper on him.

Of all people, Viktor giving you kiss so full of emotion, is not a thing you would bet on. But you accept it, messing his hair back into the state from before you licked it down with your palms, soft strands fill the gaps between your fingers as you flex them to tug, pull, and scratch your nails on his scalp and as you crack your eyes open, goosebumps rises and falls in waves down the taunt skin of his cheeks.

“For fucks sake touch me,” he rasps, showing you his underbelly. “Please.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say this word to me,” you tease him, licking into his mouth and shifting your hips so that your clothed cunt would press on his crotch. He groans your name out in a warning and doesn’t let you win this one, biting your neck, almost unhinging his jaw in the process.

You don’t retaliate either. Shaky fingers come to undo the first few buttons of his shirt, and you caress his collar bones before placing a soft kiss in the pool where they meet. Viktor’s head lulls back on his shoulders, hips roll into yours and mouth moans out the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

“Ah, fuck,” you hiss against his skin despite yourself. Very reluctant to let him know how hot you find him right now, you drag your tongue up his neck to shut yourself up. Viktor, obviously at the edge of his patience, grabs the back of your neck and collides your mouths back into another greedy kiss, making you almost, well, gag, on his tongue.

“Yes to gagging, then,” he says triumphantly. Tired with waiting for your hands to touch him where he wants it the most, he slides one palm under your skirt, pressing on a thin, wet barrier of your knickers and hums, pleased that he is not alone in his overwhelming want.

“Ah!” A gasp escapes you when you feel how desperate his touch is. “So, there is, fuck—” you stutter at the feeling his fingers sliding the material to the side and finding your clit. “Kindness in your touch after all.” Your hands already fumble at his belt and Viktor smirks at the stark contrast between the overall cockiness of your message and a very poor delivery not backing it up.

“Only kindness,” he whispers and there is honesty within him you’ve never seen before. He sinks two fingers inside you, thumb fixed where you throb and pulse, and you almost lose his cock from your hand at the stumbling realisation of how good he is with his hands. You brace yourself with a firm grip on his shoulder, your free hand spreads the beads of precum over his head and Viktor exhales a shuddery breath. You give him a couple of experimental pumps and decide to push him further, retreating your touch only to present him with your palm open, waiting below his chin when you say, “Spit.”

“Who’s disgusting now,” he chuckles but obeys. Soon a warm wet splash lands on your hand, and you cannot take your eyes off his lips when his cheeks hollow out and tongue rolls to gather his spit for you. You’ve never seen him doing it either. The movement of his fingers doesn’t waver for a moment, and you have to use all of your massive brain power to not get distracted between your own pleasure and his cock.

You grasp him at the base and spread the slick all the way to the top, rolling your fingers on the sensitive spot under his head, to which Viktor replies with a firmer rub against your clit. The more you edge him, the more he coms forth, curling his fingers inside you, making you scowl and lose your rhythm on his cock and he’s willing to make this little sacrifice only so see how lovely your face contorts the closer you are to falling apart.

He defeats you almost entirely when a third finger gets introduced to your hole and all you can do is just hold him in your palm, your other hand slides back up his hair and you tug him close to taste his lips again and send your groan into his throat. Finally, you come in a couple of clenched out spasms, losing control of your mouth as you press yourself into him and Viktor gulps down your moans, humming and smiling with something clean and genuine.

Your legs go limp on his sides, forehead comes to rest on his shoulder, and you allow yourself a couple of shuddery breaths before moving your hand again. You lift your head to look at him, face all pink and covered with a sheen of sweat and his lips part sweetly when you resume languid rolls of your wrist.

Viktor braces himself on the edge of the table, hands come to grip on each side of your hips, his knuckles pale, and he leans in, holding your gaze. Utters a quiet fuck when you smile at him, all blissfully complete and you suddenly find yourself wanting to make him feel just as good. So you pump his cock faster, taking cues from the way his cheeks flare up, eyes flutter and breath hitches. He grunts and moans and pants and you record each and every one of those sounds in the grooves of your brain.

When’s he’s becoming unbearably hot and twitching in your palm, his hands crawl back to cup your face, and he kisses you deeply, soft tongue invading your mouth again and you know he is almost there, so you pull your skirt up and make him paint your inner thighs with cum. Heat spreads across your skin when Viktor shakes out the last spasms of his orgasm, your lips still glued together.

“Who knew you are such a sweet creature,” he mumbles hotly between kisses, his softening cock rolling in his own cum on your thigh.

“It’s a secret, don’t tell anyone,” you whisper, reaching blindly to the shelf above your head to grab a roll of paper towels. You hand it to Viktor, and he tears off a piece and sets the roll outside of your reach. With a protest already dangling off your tongue, you let it crawl back into your throat when Viktor wipes himself off your thigh with tenderness and care that gets you borderline embarrassed.

Then, he cleans himself up and you watch him with wide eyes as he tucks everything back into his pants, throws the cum-stained paper into the bin and leans back to kiss you, as if something just got established.

“A compromise agrees with you,” he says, resting his forehead against yours. “You too,” you reply stupidly, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones. And you wonder—how long is the fall off this tightrope going to be? When will you crash into the ground and break your neck?

[mindblowingscience]

Steak, mashed potatoes and desserts for astronauts could soon be grown from individual cells in space if an experiment launched into orbit today is successful. A European Space Agency (ESA) project is assessing the viability of growing so-called lab-grown food in the low gravity and higher radiation in orbit and on other worlds. ESA is funding the research to explore new ways of reducing the cost of feeding an astronaut, which can cost up to £20,000 per day.

Continue Reading.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Freewriting

Freewriting - the practice of writing without a prescribed structure, which means no outlines, cards, notes, or editorial oversight.

In freewriting, the writer follows the impulses of their own mind, allowing thoughts and inspiration to appear to them without premeditation.

Benefits of Freewriting

CREATIVE EXPRESSION

Many writers embrace freewriting as a way to find unexpected inspiration.

Outlines and notes can be wonderful for the purpose of staying on task, but they can sometimes stifle the creativity that comes from free association.

This is where freewriting comes in.

By starting with a rough idea, but without pre-planned details, a writer opens themself up to discovery and new found inspiration.

WRITER'S BLOCK

Writers who feel in a style rut, or who actively experience writer’s block, may benefit from a freewriting exercise as part of their formal writing process.

By forcing themselves to put words on a page, a writer may be able to alleviate their anxiety about writing and allow them to be more creative.

SPEED

Freewriting is typically faster than other forms of draft writing or outlining.

Because you are simply writing without a strict form to follow and without organizing your thoughts.

5 Tips and Techniques for Freewriting

JUST WRITE

Any writing coach or writing teacher will tell you that you must segregate your writing process from your editing process.

When it comes to freewriting, first drafts are repositories for every idea that comes to mind, however vague or tangential.

Don’t worry about word count, don’t worry about market viability, don’t worry about sentence structure, don’t even worry about spelling.

Unleash your creativity, let the ideas flow, and trust that there will be time for editing later.

This rule applies whether you wish to write a novel, a play, a short story, or a poem.

GATHER TOPICS BEFOREHAND

Freewriting doesn’t mean you write without having an idea about your topic/story.

Even the most committed freewriters tend to have some degree of a prewriting technique - they ruminate on their subject matter in a broad, general sense.

You don’t have to pre-plan details before you start writing, but it helps to know in the broadest sense what it is you think you’ll write about.

TIME YOURSELF

If you are experiencing writer’s block, commit to getting words down on the page within the first 60 seconds of writing.

Perhaps those first words will not yield anything, but think of them metaphorically as the first drops you put into the five gallon bucket that is your novel.

There is nothing to be gained by staring at a page or computer screen for any great period of time.

COMBINE FREEWRITING WITH TRADITIONAL OUTLINES OR NOTES

While it can be quite satisfying to say that one wrote an entire novel using freewriting techniques (as Jack Kerouac is said to have done with On the Road) what readers care about most is the quality of your writing.

With this in mind, start a project with a substantive freewriting session.

Depending on what you produce, you may want to use that content as fodder for a formal process that more closely conforms to the traditional rules of writing (outlines, notes, etc.).

Let that outline or set of notes guide the remainder of your writing on the project.

Remember, too, that you can always toggle back to freewriting at any point.

BRING IDEAS TO YOUR SESSIONS

Some writers, particularly poets, begin sessions with no ideas or themes they plan to tackle—they simply begin writing with the first word or phrase that comes to mind, and then they let the process unfold from there.

While you can work toward this point, if you’re new to the medium of writing and are seeking to unleash the writer within, plan your freewriting sessions when you have a strong idea of your story or theme.

The most effective writing has thematic or narrative consistency, and starting with a small germ of an idea may help you achieve that consistency.

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References

[lizardsfromspace]

The key to healing the planet is to study what causes GO Events. What are GO Events? They are...

An artifact of pop culture

Inescapably gigantic for several months to years

Popular to all ages and all peoples

Goofily sincere

Confirmed GO Events:

The Macarena (1995-1997)

The summer of Pokemon Go (2016)

Gangnam Style (2012)

Likely GO Events (fuller investigation pending research grants):

Old Town Road (2019)

Despacito (2017)

Confirmed non-GO Events:

Pokemon (1996-2001): confirmed Age-Targeted GO Event, lacked appeal among the goofy uncles, cool aunts, and dorkazoid middle-aged parents who are, as deeper research shown, the true drivers of GO Events' long-term viability; indeed, our most avuncular citizens falling into the generational divide of "stop playing that dang Game Boy and rake the leaves" is one of the more well-known pitfalls that prevent the expansion of a potential event beyond its original age bracket

Only by manifesting a perpetual series of Macarenas and Old Town Roads can we achieve world peace. We should also probably stop global warming, but it's important to study "Gangnam Style" too. This list of GO Events is incomplete and you can help the project by expanding it

[breelandwalker]

Witchcraft Exercise - Annual Review

The end of the old calendar year and the beginning of a new one are excellent times for reflection and recalibration. We do this in our mundane lives by making resolutions, setting new goals, starting new projects, and sketching out our schedule for the coming year. So why not do the same with your witchcraft!

As a journaling exercise, sit down and record how your journey has progressed over the past year. You can include things like spells you’ve cast, rituals you’ve performed, holidays you’ve celebrated, gatherings you attended, new ideas you’ve encountered or incorporated, important lessons learned, and any significant milestones you’ve achieved. It doesn’t have to be fully comprehensive or bite-by-bite - the level of detail is entirely up to you.

(If you’ve already performed the exercise Quantifying Your Craft, then you already have a place to start. If you haven’t, I do suggest doing that first to give yourself a clear set of data and pre-determined information to reference.)

Once you’ve recorded your progress, decide where you want to go next. What new goals will you set? What new subjects do you want to explore? What habits do you want to alter or adopt? Are there any new books you want to read? Places you want to visit? New methods or techniques you want to try? Dream big and then sketch out a path to get you there, or just decide where you want to go next. And don’t worry about accomplishing everything on the list in the span of a year. Whatever doesn’t get done in the short term can always become the seed of something you grow into over time.

Of course, this doesn’t necessarily have to be an exercise that happens exclusively at the beginning or end of a calendar year. You can (and should) review and recalibrate periodically throughout the year whenever you incorporate new information or new ideas or new processes into your practice. This can be done as frequently or infrequently as you feel the need, whether that be monthly or quarterly or annually or just once every few years. Pausing for reflection is a necessary part of any long-term path or project, and it is a good way to both measure your progress so far and decide how best to move forward.

One more thing - Don’t be too hard on yourself or feel like you haven’t accomplished enough or learned enough or progressed enough to be a “proper” witch. Don’t compare your craft to anyone else’s or measure your viability by another's rod. Your journey is your own and will proceed at its’ own pace. Periods of rest or recovery or low motivation or preoccupation with other concerns are going to be part of that. As long as you’re making an effort, you’re doing just fine.

Happy Witching!

Image Credit - Witch Workspace, by Mylène Richard

Want more witchcraft exercises? Check out the masterpost here.

(If you’re enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar, tune in to my monthly show Hex Positive on your favorite podcast app, or check out my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop. 😊)

[whitefootedgoats]

Asking @quiddie if she'd talk shop w/ me about the storytelling of WBN, part 2: the data!

Stats Beyond Number

When I get intrigued by a story, I like to deep dive, but it's never my first choice, because that process is only exciting for my writer brain. After writing 1M+ words of fiction, the urge to analyze every narrative choice is a hard thing to turn off -- but the first three episodes of Worlds Beyond were doing exactly that. My reader brain was delighted to be carried off to a new world by storytellers who I knew and trusted, and the early going was captivating, enchanting, exciting, etc.

Then at the 45m mark of episode 4, Suvi says to Ame:

"If this is what you need to do, then fine. But please, I ask you as a friend, do not presume to know how I feel, and NEVER contradict me in front of strangers."

Without my writer brain engaged, I reacted as I might in a real-life social encounter: instant red card, I'm never interacting with this person again.

But I wasn't going to let a little bump disturb me, especially with a project that was perfectly tailored to my interests. Longform, earnest fantasy storytelling with pro sound design and such a dream cast it might as well be made by Sega? I pressed on.

Episode 6, Suvi to Ame:

"Hey, shut up? Shut the fuck up."

Now I was starting to rationalize: it's early days, the Simpsons didn't even look like the Simpsons until like, season 3? I'll hang in.

Episode 11 -- the one where Suvi spins out in the shrine of Orima -- was so viscerally unpleasant I yanked my earbuds out in the grocery store and forgot about the podcast for a month.

During that time, the writer brain started to whir in the background.

I couldn't remember the last movie affected me like that. And there was something exciting about what Aabria was doing, on a technical level: it felt like she was jeopardizing the story's viability by going after a core tenet of most actual plays: good vibes only between PCs. Could the story work if the party doesn't get along? If, every week, the audience was at risk of TPK via psychic damage? Forget dangling your protagonists over shark-infested waters, that's real suspense!

So I got back into the story, this time with my analytic brain switched on. It was enjoyable! Watching four people writing in realtime is engrossing. While I struggle to appreciate emotional PVP in an unscripted context, it wasn't hard to appreciate the scene work between Aabria and Erika, and soon I was back on board -- Suvi actually became my favorite PC. For a goof, I ran some analysis on the transcripts, to see if I could find any fun patterns, but no real shockers in there. (It was a little wild to see that Steel was talking more than Eursulon, though.)

I got bored w/ the annotating after the second arc though, because of course the real thing a writer should study is: how's the audience responding? And there's a much more direct way to figure that out.

Part 3 on Friday: 10,000 reddit comments.

[transfaguette]

always sucks when one of the biggest companies in a space is also The Worst

Unity, which for a long time the majority of indie games and several AAA titles have been developed in, recently announced a new “Runtime Fee” that would charge developers $0.20 per install of their game, starting January 2024. Retroactively!!!! Yes you heard that right. Got a new computer and want to reinstall your favorite game you bought 3 years ago? That’ll cost the dev $0.20, when they themselves make no additional money. A bad actor could, in theory, install a game hundreds of times just to hurt a developers bottom line. But even just in benign scenarios, its enough to threaten the viability of small indie studios. Even if devs wanted to jump ship now, number one they’d have to port all their games to a new engine, a monumental task on its own, and they’d have to learn a new engine and new workflow, new pipeline, etc. This is catastrophic to the indie scene.

And this isn’t handled through the platforms they sell their games on like steam or itch.io, it’s woven into the backend of the engine itself. Unity claims they have systems to detect piracy (but they’re proprietary and secret!) and developers won’t be charged for illegitimate installs. But none of us can be actually sure of that. They are literally making “piracy costs the devs money” a real actual legitimate argument.

And to top it all off, their ghoul of a CEO dumped his shares right before the announcement. They Knew this would be hated and they’re trying to get away with it anyway.

Do note, this only applies to games that already meet the threshold for profit sharing. If you are a hobbyist or making a project for school etc, this won’t affect you.

What can you do? Keep in touch with your favorite developers and indie publishers on social media. Hopefully with enough backlash and support for indie developers, they will retract.