#Bottled Water Purification

[puroxiagriculture]

Agricultural Water Treatment Systems. Puroxi OB solution helps to treat water disinfection for over 15+ years, Provides Candida albicans, E. coli, livestock and cannabis water systems and etc.

[hezuart]

LN Channel Change AU Sequel: “Seven” {1} {2} {3} {here/final}

And they lived happily ever after. Or did they? We've established our main characters Mono (TV/space-time) and Six (Soul Sucking) have strange supernatural powers. I wanted Seven to have one too. (Hydrokinesis aka water bending)

Notes for how I came up with Seven's powers and the deeper meaning behind his interaction with Mono:

1. Each child has nightmare prophecies (something to do with Mono's time loop?)  at the beginning of their stories. Six's is the Lady, Mono's is the door that leads to the Thin Man, and Seven's is being pulled underwater. Six and Mono's nightmare visions are fulfilled at the end of their stories; revealing that the thing they dreamed about, they essentially become or usurp.  Seven's differs. His dream resolves in act 1 and he kills the Granny, the creature assumed to be the one pulling him underwater in his nightmare. But what if Seven's dream prophecy was still valid... even post-Granny? Being dragged underwater... for a different fate?

2. Seven is the only main cast character shown with the ability to swim. 3. "Seven Seas" anyone? Water is a symbol of purification & life, hence, Seven gains his new powers after he survived and Mono broke the timeline loop to start fresh. "Washing it away" so to say. 4. Water is a liquid; passive in nature, but powerful in circumstance. Seven is kind and sneaky but kills the Granny when continuously attacked and threatened by her. He does the same to the Octopus monster.

5. Water molecules have adhesion and cohesion, meaning water likes to stick to itself, and stick to other things. Seven has an attachment to Nomes. He is always drawn to other people and other creatures, wanting to help them. His belief is that survival chances are higher amidst a group. Water is also known for containing life, no matter how strange or deep, such as ocean fish that often travel in schools/packs often to confuse or fight off predators, thus, another reference to Seven's new life, and his teamwork with Nomes and Mono.

6. Seven is often in fandom depicted by a circle. A water droplet. 7. Seven collects flotsam; typically boat debris, but in this case, bottled messages that come from the sea. Yet another connection to water.

All this indicates heavy implication and well-fitting power to bestow hydrokinesis onto Seven. I was inspired by the INSIDE game's drowning chapter and Stanley and Stanford's secret boat hide-out on the beach from Gravity Falls. Which is why I have selected Mono, Seven, and all their future friends to a lovely and sunny (future) beach house, far away from everything they've suffered. And living near the largest body of water on the planet with a kid with hydrokinesis? ...Certainly has its perks!

But Seven gaining powers is important to not only their survival but also him. He was still nervous about Mono. He knew Mono was very powerful and mysterious. In more ways than one. Mono is stronger than him and can also use telekinesis on objects on the beach. He's a better food hunter and seems more like a leader. Seven also likes to lead, but he felt outshined by Mono. (I don't portray that well in my comic) Seven is weaker and defenseless. His only shining quality in comparison is his ability to swim, but even that can only get him so far. He risks his life for his Nome friends and loses his life doing so. Or so he thought. By a miracle, his powers over water awaken. He drains the monster of its water, beaching it. He walks to Mono in a new light. It's a new him. He holds up his hands as if to say "See? I'm like you now." He's leveled the playing field. (It also helps that he now has jurisdiction over power Mono cannot interact with) Now they are truly equal. Two kings; one of land, one of sea, both ruling the island in equal standing. Seven will never again feel like a burden left behind. (Seven's powers activating also has something to do with the fact he bit the Octopus creature to save the Nome. Mono and Six both consume their powerful prophesized enemies to gain some of their power, if they didn't already have some before. Seven biting into the Octopus's flesh and unknowingly consuming some of it may have jumpstarted his power deep within him, on top of him encountering Mono; supernatural kid extraordinaire that brought him through a tower wormhole to escape the city)

~~~

A threequel is planned, and maybe the last addition to this series, but the next one is not fully fleshed out yet so it may be another year until I can really touch upon it yet. Otherwise, hope you guys enjoyed!

[theambitiouswoman]

Water 101 💦

The quality of drinking water can vary based on several factors, it's source, treatment, and the presence of contaminants.

Best Waters to Drink:

Spring Water: Sourced from a natural spring and is typically free from harmful additives and contaminants. It also contains beneficial minerals.

Purified Water: This is water that has been filtered to remove any contaminants. Methods like reverse osmosis, distillation, and carbon filtering can be used.

Filtered Tap Water: Using a good quality water filter can remove many of the contaminants found in regular tap water.

Bottled Water: While many people prefer bottled water for its taste and convenience, it's essential to choose brands known for their quality and sustainable sourcing.

Mineral Water: This is water that contains at least 250 parts per million total dissolved solids (TDS), which are minerals and trace elements. It can be beneficial for health due to the minerals it contains.

Worst Waters to Drink:

Unfiltered Tap Water: In some areas, tap water can contain contaminants like lead, chlorine, fluoride, and other harmful substances.

Distilled Water: While it's free from contaminants, distilled water lacks essential minerals. Drinking it exclusively can lead to mineral deficiencies.

Standing Water: Water from ponds, lakes, or puddles can be contaminated with bacteria, parasites, and viruses.

Water from Plastic Bottles Left in the Sun: The heat can cause chemicals from the plastic to leach into the water.

Untrusted Bottled Water: Some brands may not adhere to stringent purification standards, leading to potential contamination.

Quite a few brands actually combine their water bottles with non pure/non filtered water. However, there are several brands that are recognized for their commitment to providing pure water.

Fiji Water: Sourced from an underground aquifer in the remote Yaqara Valley of Viti Levu in Fiji, this water is naturally filtered and contains minerals like silica, magnesium, and calcium.

Acqua Panna: Sourced from a spring in Tuscany, Italy. The water takes a 14-year journey through the underground rock formations to reach the surface, which naturally filters and purifies it. It has a balanced mineral composition and a naturally alkaline pH.

Evian: Originating from the French Alps, Evian water is naturally filtered through rock and sand before being bottled. It's known for its balanced mineral content.

SmartWater: This brand uses a process called vapor distillation to purify its water. After distillation, it adds back a blend of electrolytes for taste.

Voss: Sourced from an underground aquifer in southern Norway, Voss water is protected from pollutants and is naturally low in minerals.

Penta: This brand claims to use a 13-step purification process, resulting in ultra-purified water.

Icelandic Glacial: Originating from the Ölfus Spring in Iceland, this water is naturally filtered through layers of volcanic rock, resulting in a low mineral content.

Essentia: This brand uses a proprietary process to purify its water, and then infuses it with electrolytes for taste. It's known for its high pH, which is alkaline.

Pure Life (Nestlé): Sourced from carefully selected springs, this water undergoes a multi-step purification process and is enhanced with minerals for taste.

Make sure that any water you drink, whether from a bottle or tap, is stored and handled properly to prevent contamination.

[justshapesandshitposting]

So, here’s all of the npc/friendly shapes you run into in-game, their tweaked designs, and some updated headcanons, which get a bit… long, so they’re going under a readmore to save y’all’s dashboards- 

Saro ‘Plytooth’ ‘Plum’

There might be some feline shape mixed in there somewhere, but nobody’s really sure- 

Their condition affects their beat-energy levels/reserves, and the best way to describe it is the following: Every shape is born/hatches with a ‘water bottle’ that is their full energy reserves, it can grow and change with them, and when it starts to overflow, the body starts forcing it out to avoid a corruption forming from the overflowing beat-energy, normally in the form of tears, saliva or projectiles/structures. With individuals with Saro’s condition their ‘water bottle’ has some small holes below the top of it, causing their body to think that it’s overflowing with beat-energy when it isn’t and start forcing it out, the closer those holes to the top it is, the less severe it is, and the farther from the top it is, the more severe it is. Shapes with extreme versions of this condition can die due to a lack of beat-energy, though this normally only happens in pouchlets or even before they’re even born/hatched. Since things like structures/projectiles and even reproducing are linked to beat-energy, individuals with more severe versions of this condition can be infertile or essentially disabled since birth. It’s mostly a genetic condition but sometimes traumatic events happening to a shape’s beat-energy can cause it

The way that this condition gets treated is a bit variable, some go without treatment, others with extreme cases have to be put on life support to keep themself stable, and some with severe cases which cause disabilities will sometimes get treatment devices to help out with their energy reserves

Their ‘cat ears’ are such a medical device, and they work by essentially ‘patching’ the holes in their energy reserves which allows more beat-energy to be stored and can supply the individual with extra energy as well in more severe cases, however, they can’t fix the condition, and individuals with these devices still are low-energy. 

These devices are made with peices of the tree like energy sponges, and can come in many different forms, most prefer them to be things like jewelry, or other wearable trinkets, Saro’s was a modified form of the tree peices that the player shapes gave them after their purification, (and it just feels… right to have them there.) their devices reat to their emotions and will often act like ears even if they aren’t actual ears (which is why some think that there’s some feline in their ancestry somewhere)

Saro’s condition is on the severe side, they can function on their own, albeit being unable to make energy structures/projectiles and not having a clutch cycle (since they don’t have the energy reserves to actually make/develop eggs, since eggs take a lot more beat-energy to make than well, the male gametes) 

they compensated with physical strength, ladders and stools to get things from higher up, and other devices to help assist them.

They also have a slight advantage with them being a mechanical shape, since mechanical shapes can charge through sunlight, moving water, or by temporarily connecting themselves to a power grid, converting that energy to beat-energy

If they’re feeling tired or think that they’ll need more energy, pre-cat ears they’d just plug themselves into the grid with their tail and charge for a bit before heading out- 

They don’t really have this issue post-game, but now they have other issues, namely that they now have clutch cycles, and they now have both structures and projectiles, neither of which they know how to handle at first 

When pouchlets first start ‘linking’ with their beat-energy it will develop into a song, and their levels of beat-energy stored are used to make the projectiles and structures that are linked to it, Saro has fully linked with their song, but never learned how to control structures or projectiles, and as such, they’re in the position of a pouchlet first learning how to control them, albeit with more danger since they’re a fully grown shape that’s fully linked with their fully developed song, the constructs and projectiles that they can’t control are fully developed, firm, and can cause a lot of damage by accident. 

Structures and projectiles ar first are almost always summoned by instinct when something happens, like feeling strong emotions, or just if the shape needs something, with Saro specifically, they’re slowly learning how to get the summoning and dismissing under their control, 

during this time when they feel the structures starting to ‘twitch’ they will excuse themselves from the current situation and get to a isolated place before letting go of their suppresion to let them out. 

They’re very motherly/fatherly and do desire to have kids of their own someday, but have accepted that their condition made it highly unlikely- (yeah, that’s something that the corruption 100% would’ve latched onto if they didn’t get purified so quickly)

They parent the player shapes like they would their own kids, they were afraid of doing so after they found out that they were all adults (they thought that they were younger than they were) but the squad gave them permission to do so

They are very physically strong, stronger than most shapes on paradise- 

Once beat Fresh in a fistfight even though he’s almost double their size, give or take a bit, shape heights tend to fluxuate (He respects them a lot more than other shapes now because of it) 

Very sweet and gentle but isn’t a doormat or a pushover, they will fuck shit up if they feel like it’s neccecary, and that is a promise

Compact and much heavier than they look, to the point where it’s QUITE startling for most people who try to pick them up or otherwise push/nudge them out of the way, it’s like trying to move a brick wall of a house by hand-

Rotary ‘Rota’

They have difficulty walking on the ground, they can still walk, but it’s slow and somewhat clumsy

Their eyes are screen-like and/or bug-like

They are surprisingly light for a Mechanical shape, which makes sense when you consider that they’re mostly a aerial type. 

Super fast and agile in the air, and can hover perfectly still above the ground for a good long while if needed, 

Water makes them uncomfortable, so they tend to avoid it when they can- 

Super bubbly and affectionate but can and will cut a bitch if needed- 

Prefers to keep their mouth shut and sealed, their teeth are a bit scary for some folks, plus it can sometimes force them to slow down in the air. 

While they can’t really charge through plugging into the mainframe, they can quite easily charge through solar power, and will often bask in sunlight if they need a quick pick-me-up (flight is energy intense after all) 

Their pouch is mostly internallized to stop a full pouch from bringing down their aerodynamicness

Reel

Lost their eye when they were young because of a parasite, has several different glass eyes that they sometimes use to fill the socket to avoid issues with it- 

They do wear the eyepatch over it to help avoid anything else sneaking into their socket/to keep their socket protected from the air and potential infectious microbes

They keep their mouth sealed and shut unless hunting or actively using it for the same reasons that Rotary does, though mostly it’s because they have a abyssal horror maw and it REALLY freaks some folks out. 

They have some dicciculties when talking legibly, due to the way their mouth is structured, so it often sounds like they have a lisp, or a heavy accent that makes them hard to understand. If they’re having difficulties describing something accurately they tend to use pouchlet notes in order to communicate it easier (pouchlet notes are good with simple things and describing emotions, and can be strung together to create complex scentences, but it takes a bit to learn how to string them together properly)

Looks like they could kill you but is really sweet and gentle. 

Has been mistaken for fish several times before and now sticks to the surface when not hunting to minimize that happening again. (it’s very awkward, and they still sometimes get folks appologizing to them for that happening)

Pouch is mostly internalized for streamlining reasons, and has some musculature that allows it to be ‘sealed’ to stop things inside from escaping as well as an producing a oily secretion that makes it easier to force water out of their pouch. 

They tend to keep any items that they keep in their pouch in waterproof and oilproof containers and bags to stop them from getting wet or covered in their pouch’s oil secretions

[artbyblastweave]

i dont know anything about fallout except its a wild west postnuclear survivor game and there’s a jaunty lil dude who’s always giving you a thumbsup? Anyway i would love to know your thoughts on water collection/distribution and/or the economy of mended stuff.

sorry your brain is on the brink

In the context of fallout? The post-nuclear Water economy is the backbone of three different games; the plot of the first involves you getting kicked out of your fancy underground Bunker City in order to find replacement parts for the water filtration system, and the rudimentary post-apocalyptic society you explore uses a currency backed on the water standard (in lieu of the Gold Standard- one bottlecap for one bottle of water.). Water Merchants (those with access to water towers, etc) are power players in the nascent political ecosystem. The (not-very-well-considered) plot of the third game involves trying to get a widespread water purification program working for the DC area. And the central conflict of New Vegas (sometimes referred to as "the really good one,") consists of the local powers brawling over control of the still-functional Hoover Dam due to the control it would provide over the regions freshwater and electricity supply.

I liked New Vegas's take on the scavenged-equipment economy the best. The setting shift to Nevada (previous games by the same writing team being in California) is in part meant to reflect that people back west have simply run out of old-world materials to scavenge, and are now back to living in actual cities that they build out of novel materials, eating food they grow and cook- which makes for a boring place to set a game, hence the shift to the "frontier" of Vegas, where you'll encounter neo-western "prospectors" (scavengers) looking for new claims to tap for pre-war resources to supplement what re-industrialized society can produce. Many of the weapons and armor-sets you use and fight against are encountered in a mad-max style environment, but many of them aren't implausibly-still-in-use antiques- they're being manufactured by a largely off-screen 21st-century-styled liberal-democratic society that's rebuilt enough to redevelop mass consumption and arms conglomerates, the negative externalities of which are spilling out to affect those on the frontier.

[unlikelymagic]

A Protection & Prosperity Jar Spell*

*WITH KNOT MAGIC & SIGILS

INGREDIENTS w/ CORRESPONDENCES. salt (purification) cloves (good luck, prosperity) rosemary (cleansing, strength, protection) bay leaves (protection, success, wishes) black pepper (banishment, courage) full moon water (meditation, cleansing, manifestation) basil (love, health, money) cinnamon (love, power, comfort, luck) coins (good fortune) mint (happiness, healing, love, luck, money) clear quartz (amplification, healing) sigil (health and happiness or any equivalent) green/gold ribbon/cord/yarn (13 inches)

OPTIONAL tag lock (hair, spit, blood etc.) of those living in home or that you wish to be protected such as family and pets INSTRUCTIONS. Create a sigil indicating health and happiness. Use any method you like to create the sigil. Keep this for later!

Grab your green or gold cord and tie your witch's ladder. You may add your quartz here if you'd like or can. Below I've included the chant for the witch's ladder.

WITCH'S LADDER CHANT By knot of one, the spells begun. By knot of two, I make it true. By knot of three, so may it be. By knot of four, the open door. By knot of five, the spell's alive. By knot of six, the spell is fixed. By knot of seven, earth and heaven. By knot of eight, my will be fate. By knot of nine, the thing is mine.

Place your ingredients in your jar or bottle, holding your intention in your mind as you do so.

Burn you sigil in a burn safe place and gather its ashes, placing them in your jar/bottle as well.

To seal the bottle wrap your knotted cord around it, tying it in place, and then top the jar/bottle with white and green wax.

[followingtheladyofthesacredflame]

Cleansing Simmer Pot and Spray

Components

Water (blessed or unblessed)

Salt (protection, purification)

Rosemary (purification, amplification)

Lemon (cleansing, brightening a space)

Process

Add water to a pot.

Add salt, rosemary, and lemon.

Bring to a low boil or simmer.

Allow steam to flow around room.

Open window to let negativity out.

When done cleansing, allow mixture to cool, then add to spray bottle. Use to refresh room as needed.

This cleansing spray was inspired a bit by the recipe in The House Witch, but is a little simpler. It works great as a quick countertop cleaner as well! Get a spray bottle with a fine mist setting and spray when your space needs a quick refresh.

[shiki-aki]

[Translation] Convenience Store Lamento Drama CD - Track 6. "Dogs and Cats"

This is my translation of the Shiki & Akira scene from track 6 of the "Convenience Store Lamento" drama CD. This drama CD features a crossover between Lamento and Togainu no Chi, where the Lamento cast are employees working at a convenience store, while the Togainu cast are shoppers there. My Japanese is limited and I had another person help me translate this, although neither of us are fluent in Japanese. Regardless, I hope you can enjoy this audio!

Konoe: Uoh! Wah! A motorcycle?

Shiki: I'll have the usual.**

Konoe: Welcome! Please wait, I'll head over to the register.

Konoe: You want the water bottle in this size, correct?

Shiki: That's right.

Konoe: Thank you for shopping with us.

Konoe: Huh?

Konoe: Ah—

Konoe: This is bad... the register is broken.

Konoe: What should I do?

Shiki: Keep the change.

Konoe: Eh?!

Konoe: I can't do tha—

Konoe: Wait!

Konoe: The manager will get mad at me!

Shiki: The manager...

Shiki: Is that white-haired man not here today?

Konoe: Eh?

Konoe: You mean Rai?

Konoe: Yes, unfortunately, he went out somewhere...

Shiki: Then I have something to ask you.

Konoe: Eh?

Shiki: Does this water have some sort of special effect to it?

Konoe: The... water?

Shiki: Whenever I drink this, I get a strange dream.

Konoe: Ah...

Konoe: You mean a memory.

Shiki: A memory?

Konoe: It's written on the label.

Konoe: The water has a purifying effect that clears impurities from the body.

Konoe: During that process, old memories can awaken.

Shiki: An antidote?

Konoe: It's not really detoxification...

Konoe: It's just purging impurities from your body.

Konoe: Do you know what "purification" is?

Shiki: ...

Konoe: This water is made from sap that is harvested from a large tree.

Konoe: During the harvesting, the Sanga sing.

Konoe: Their singing strengthens the power of the water.

Konoe: Well, in the first place, the Touga often drink this water to purify their bodies.

Shiki: I don't know what you mean by Touga, but when I drink this, I can feel a strange power.

Konoe: I think that's the song's effect...

Konoe: What kind of dream is it?

Konoe: Is it a nightmare?

Shiki: A nightmare...

???: "Shiki."

Shiki: No, it's just a voice.

Konoe: A voice...

Konoe: What is it like?

???: "Shiki!"

Konoe: If the dreams are distressing, then we can ask Tokino.

Konoe: He's a friend of mine who handles dream powder.

Konoe: He's very good at his job.

Shiki: No.

Shiki: It's fine.

Shiki: So this water can purify the effects of Rein, too.

Konoe: Rein?

Konoe: Where is that product from?

Konoe: Ah, I don't know much about products from other stores yet...

Shiki: It's fine.

Shiki: I just wanted to ask.

Konoe: I'm sorry.

Shiki: I'll come again.

Konoe: Eh?

Konoe: Ah, yes.

Konoe: Thank you very much!

---

Shiki: Move.

Akira: I was standing here—!

Akira: first...

Shiki: What?

Akira: Nothing...

Akira: I was just wondering why you're looking at me.

Shiki: I was?

Akira: You were staring at me.

Akira: Just now.

Shiki: You're very self-conscious.

Akira: Then don't look at me.

Shiki: What's your name?

Akira: Why would I tell my name to someone I just met?

Shiki: Just met, huh...

Akira: ...Have we met before?

Shiki: I can't remember the rest.

Akira: Huh? What are you—

Shiki: However...

Shiki: I remember that voice.

Akira: Eh?

Shiki: If that's a memory, then...

[END]

---

**Shiki more specifically says "I'll have the usual [brand name of water]" in this line but neither of us can decipher what he's saying lol. It sounds like a loan word, or maybe it's a word specific to Lamento. I haven't played Lamento yet so I don't know.

[georgegraphys]

2024 team sponsors recap!

this is completely irrelevant to F1 but i study and do these stuffs for a living sooo 😩😩 2023 sponsors are based on the sponsors that are there at the beginning of the season (new sponsors that join in the middle of the season will be classified as 2024's)

Mercedes AMG Petronas F1 Team:

New sponsors: Whatsapp, Luminar (American tech company), SAP (German software company), nuvei (Canadian credit card services), Sherwin Williams (American painting company) 2024 data last update: 2024/02/14

Old sponsors that left: Monster Energy, Pure Storage (American technology company), fastly (American cloud computing services), Axalta (American painting company), Eight sleep (American mattresses company) 2023 data last update: 2023/01/07

Oracle Red Bull Racing F1 Team:

New sponsors: Yeti (American cooler manufacturer, joined later in 2023), APL (American footwear/athletic apparel manufacturer, joined later in 2023), CDW (American IT company, joined later in 2023), Sui (American tech app by Mysten Labs, joined later in 2023), Patron Tequila (Mexican alcoholic beverages company, joined later in 2023) 2024 data last update: 2024/02/15

Old sponsors that left: CashApp, Walmart, Therabody (American wellness technology company), Ocean Bottle (Norwegian reusable bottle manufacturer), PokerStars (Costa Rican gambling site), Alpha Tauri (? no info if they're official partners or not but Austrian clothing company made by Red Bull), BMC (Switzerland bicycle/cycling manufacturer), Esso (American fuel company, subsidiary of ExxonMobil), Hewlett Packard Enterprise (American technology company) 2023 data last update: 2023/03/07

More: Esso is a subsidiary of Mobil so there's possibility they merged or something

Scuderia Ferrari:

New sponsors: VGW Play (Australian tech game company, joined later in 2023), DXC Technology (American IT company, joined later in 2023), Peroni (Italian brewing company), Z Capital Group/ZCG (American private asset management/merchant bank company), Celsius (Swedish energy drink manufacturer) 2024 data last update: 2024/02/15

Old sponsors that left: Mission Winnow (American content lab by Phillip Morris International aka Marlboro), Estrella Garcia (Spanish alcoholic beverages manufacturer), Frecciarossa (Italian high speed train company) 2023 data last update: 2023/02/16

More: Mission Winnow is a part of Phillip Morris International. They are no longer listed as team sponsor but PMI is listed instead.

(starting here, 2023 data last update is 2023/02/23 and 2024 data last update is 2024/02/15)

McLaren F1 Team: (Only McLaren RACING's data is available idk if some of these are XE/FE team partners but anw..)

New sponsors: Monster Energy, Salesforce (American cloud based software company, joined later in 2023), Estrella Garcia (Spanish alcoholic beverages manufacturer), Dropbox (American file hosting company), Workday (American system software company, joined later in 2023), Ecolab (American water purification/hygiene company), Airwallex (Australian financial tech company), Optimum Nutrition (American nutritional supplement manufacturer), Halo ITSM (American software company, joined later in 2023), Udemy (American educational tech company, joined later in 2023), New Era (American cap manufacturer, joined in 2023), K-Swiss (American shoes manufacturer, joined later in 2023), Alpinestars (Italian motorsports safety equipment manufacturer)

Old sponsors that left: DP World (Emirati logistics company), EasyPost (American shipping API company), Immersive Labs (UK cybersecurity training company?), Logitech, Mind (UK mental health charity), PartyCasino (UK? online casino site), PartyPoker (American? gambling site), Sparco (Italian auto part & accessory manufacturer), Tezos (Switzerland crypto company)

Aston Martin Aramco F1 Team:

New sponsors: Valvoline (American retail automotives service company, joined later in 2023), NexGen (Canadian sustainable? fuel company), Banco Master (Brazilian digital banking platform, joined later in 2023), ServiceNow (American software company, joined later in 2023), Regent Seven Seas Cruise, Wolfgang Puck (Austrian-American chef and restaurant owner, joined later in 2023), Financial Times (British business newspaper), OMP (Italian racing safety equipment manufacturer), stichd (Netherlands fashion & apparel manufacturer)

Old sponsors that left: Alpinestars (Italian motorsports safety equipment manufacturer), crypto.com (Singaporean cryptocurrency company), ebb3 (UK? software company), Pelmark (UK fashion and apparel manufacturer), Peroni (Italian brewing company), Porto Seguro (Brazilian insurance company), Socios (Malta's blockchain-based platform), XP (Brazilian investment company)

Stake F1 Team (prev. Alfa Romeo):

???? Can't found their website (might be geoblocked in my country???)

BWT Alpine F1 Team:

New sponsors: MNTN (American software company), H. Moser & Cie (Switzerland watch manufacturer), Amazon Music

Old sponsors that left: Bell & Ross (French watch company), Ecowatt (??? afaik French less-energy smthn smthn company), Elysium (French? American? Software company), KX (UK software company), Plug (American electrical equipment manufacturing company)

Visa CashApp RB F1 Team (prev. Scuderia Alpha Tauri):

New Sponsors: Visa, CashApp, Hugo Boss, Tudor, Neft Vodka (Austrian alcoholic beverages company), Piquadro (Italian luxury bag manufacturer)

Old sponsors that left: Buzz (?), Carl Friedrik (UK travel goods manufacturer), Flex Box (Hongkong? shipping containers manufacturer), GMG (Emirati global wellbeing company), RapidAPI (American API company)

Haas F1 Team:

New sponsors: New Era (American cap manufacturer, joined later in 2023)

Old sponsors that left: Hantec Markets (Hongkong capital markets company), OpenSea (American NFT/Crypto company)

Williams Racing:

New sponsors: Komatsu, MyProtein (British bodybuilding supplement), Kraken (American crypto company, joined later in 2023), VAST Data (American tech company), Ingenuity Commerce (UK e-commerce platform), Puma (joined later in 2023)

Old sponsors that left: Acronis (Swiss software company), Bremont (British watch manufacturer), Dtex Systems (American? cybersecurity company), Financial Times (British business newspaper), Jumeirah Hotels & Resorts, KX (UK software company), OMP (Italian racing safety equipment manufacturer), PPG (American painting manufacturer), Umbro (English sports equipment manufacturer), Zeiss (German opticals/optometrics manufacturing company)

[northgazaupdates]

I just read about a solar water disinfection method (SODIS). Basically, you leave a water bottle out in the sun for at least 6 hours and it should make water safe(r) to drink. I don’t know if it would work with the toxins and bacteria in the water in Gaza, but maybe it could help

This is a good thought, and most likely already being deployed in north Gaza. There are numerous obstacles to this approach, including time, space, and container access, but I’m positive this is being done when possible. Gazans are familiar with the scarcity of safe drinking water, and radio and other media programs are being used by the government and by journalists to broadcast tips like this.

In the few places where water can still be accessed, it is often held in tanks and large jugs for many hours while the supply is slowly distributed, so hopefully that helps decrease the contaminants. However, as you point out, there are substances like asbestos in the water now which cannot be removed or neutralized in this manner.

There are things like portable and/or solar-powered water purification systems which we think could be of benefit to the people of Gaza. However, they can be very expensive, and the IOF has been deliberately banning water purification supplies from entering the north. It is debatable whether there is a way for such things to enter, but we have considered organizing a fundraiser to buy some for an organization that is able to get aid into Gaza. We will keep our followers posted.

[ficbrish]

The Truth of It

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

[AO3 Link]

[Kinktober 2023 prompt thanks to @absurdthirst! October 20th - Thighfucking]

[[TW/CW: Cptsd, blood, suicide (mentions, ideation, past attempts—girliepop goes through it), death mentions, self-hate]]

Summary: Vistri opens up about her suicide ideation.

Act I - Mountains camp - After the failed zaith'isk/Githyanki cure

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

“Vistri?” Shadowheart called out her name a second time; right next to her, on the same bit of seating, and she still didn’t answer. Not even her favorite people could shake Vistri from the mood she’d fallen into, bog-like and hollow.

The back of her neck stung hot with Astarion’s consistent frown. His eyes, sharp with professed concern, had stalked her ever since she’d messed with the Githyanki’s purification device. It wasn’t the first time she almost died in front of him. With that face, if she were gone, he could easily find another bedroll to slake his lusts. Vistri didn’t know why he was pretending to be so bothered about it! Her disappearance should be a non-issue.

A general or an artist would be able to point it out, someone who could look at the lay of the land and positions of its people, and read stories. While everyone else was gathered in a group circle, passing around open hearts, laughing smiles, and shared bottles, Astarion stood in front of his tent, glaring at his lover who could hear nothing but the displeasure in his eyes.

As Shadowheart called her name for a third time, Vistri stormed off with a growl.

She’d been a puzzle to Astarion for most of the day, but this really took the cake. It was alarming to see her blink Shadowheart out of existence like that. Sure, they’d all known each other for only a few tendays, give or take, but from the outside, those two could have grown up together. If Shadowheart couldn’t take control of her storm, Astarion had no idea how his ship would fare it. All raging waters, she stomped in his direction like a 50ft wave.

Before he could get a word out to question why she marched over in such a fitful state, she huffed, “Stop it.”

Something in her tone and approach immediately ruffled his feathers. The sheer unpredictability of her made his anxiety appear before she spoke, and whatever it was that got under his skin, spiked it. He didn’t expect these kinds of feelings to ever be molded by her hands. It was always quite the opposite.

Betrayed, he swallowed, then bit back, “Excuse me?! Stop what?”

“Augh!”

Astarion clicked his tongue and lightened his tone, “Oh, dear. Did you misplace your charm? Because I do miss it ever so much.”

Thankfully, none of the others were nearby to witness Vistri’s moment of disgrace. They were all sitting around the old cistern, laughing and having a pleasant evening. Even Lae’zel, who popped a vessel every time they stopped to rest and whose “cure” turned out to be a lie of her people, was unusually animated. She kept egging on Karlach to ask Gale more questions about his grandad. Vistri was more likely to elbow a dear friend out of the way for a better view than sit there unresponsive. Her favorite thing to do was fuck around, and she hated being serious.

So, again, what was she doing bothering him for? What-the-fuck did he do?! He was used to getting in trouble, made a habit of it actually; all he wanted was to know was why.

Astarion raised his brow, pointing to the merriment she’d left behind to come fuss at him. Then it knitted with the other one, “Are you sure everything’s all right—”

“No! That! Stop that!” One more version of, Are you okay? from his so obviously deceptive lips and Vistri swore she’d jump into the campfire.

“I’m sorry?”

“Augh!”

“Do you…? Do you need to sit down? Or?”

“I do not need anything. I’m fine! Please, spare me your false concerns.”

“False con—! Oh, I’m sorry! Did I dare to give a shit for once? Fuck me, I’m never doing that again.”

Frustrated tears began to well up in Vistri’s eyes. A crater opened up in her stomach, “No!”

“No?”

Because the thing was that nobody cared. No one who fucked her ever asked if she was okay, because Vistri was always fantastic, and even if one doubted that for even a second, all they needed to seek relief was just to sit back and enjoy her show. The audience may gasp at a particularly nasty fall, but she always shot up afterwards with a grand smile and confetti rained down on her head. Astarion asked without really being the first person to ask. He said the words, his brow screwed up, but there was no way in any of the hells that he meant it. And if she could just say, You scare the shit out of me because none of it can be real, then maybe he’d be able to clear things up for her.

But all she could articulate was, “Augh!”

Astarion sighed to calm his excited rage, “I’m lost. Am I speaking to Vistri? Or is this some sort of residual, pissed-off-tadpole effect?”

She bit her tongue to stop herself from spitting back with something truly nasty she didn’t really mean and would forever regret. Astarion looked like he was doing the same. His eyes were as sharp as his smirk, and there was something dangerous in his air. Like he was ready to fight to the death, and by the gods, so was she.

Vistri balled her hands into fists, so wanting to break whatever laid at the root of his giving a shit. To snap it like a twig, and watch it die in his eyes.

It was the only thing she deserved.

The tender glint in his eyes sliced through her, sharp like papercuts. She would lose his frowning lips, and the memory of her would disappear as others sucked them. Vistri wanted to kiss them before it was too late. Tangle herself in his tongue and his arms and his chest, until she was nothing but raw heat, just something for him to take. So the rage had nowhere to go.

She blinked back her revulsion, and the overflow spilled down her face. Embarrassed, her voice cracked, “My head…”

Astarion’s defenses shut down. His heart seemed to obey her voice; whereas before it raised his shackles and grit his teeth, it now stilled his rage and broke it down into tenderness. He stepped closer with the care he’d just promised never to show again. Instinctively, he caressed the sides of her head, as if touch could cure it. The gentleness of his gesture, its complete lack of hesitation, tore Vistri’s heart in two, with one side empty as the void and the other full to bursting.

“Did that wretched Githyanki device hurt you, love?”

She nodded. That wasn’t it, but it was an easier story. Besides, if everyone believed in it enough, maybe it would become true.

Astarion sighed, “I think you deserve a good lie down. Why don’t we head inside my tent?”

She shook her head, “I don’t want to be inside.”

He lifted her chin up with his finger to peer inquisitively into her face. Astarion’s eyes met hers with kindness, forgiveness, “What about a walk to clear your mind?”

She nodded her head gratefully.

“Then we’ll take a quaint little stroll around the cliff,” his voice was soft and a little cheeky, “Would that be nice?”

It was embarrassing for Astarion to act with the patience of a paladin, and even more so for Vistri to act in a way that required it. They wore those roles like ill-fitting clothes. With that awkwardness lingering around them, making the air sharp, they took a step forward. He led her to another part of camp, away from all the others and their merriment. To get uphill, they had to first walk a decline. He carefully guided her passed rocks that stuck out and ground that slid, like she was someone frail. A ghost had more presence than she did at the moment.

Discordant bits of laughter from the group carried over on the wind and hit their backs like mocking jeers, even though it had nothing to do with either of them. The only rooms they’d ever known filled one’s absence with group whispers. Astarion swallowed such blaring thoughts. Willing them away, he turned to the task at hand and gently brought her to the spot they claimed for themselves the other night.

“Care for a roll in the hay?”

She’d clicked her fingers, and about three bales of it exploded into existence around their feet that night. The proud cockiness in her smirk was too delicious not to lick up, and he’d devoured her with a similar pride. Guilty lusts settled in now with those memories. Astarion shook his head to clear it.

“Come sit,” he insisted, his tone harsher than he meant, “We wouldn’t want you falling over, and you seem rather dizzy.”

“Better?” he asked as she did.

Vistri nodded, but he saw it for the lie it was. Astarion knew more than most that sometimes there was no better. He sucked his teeth and sat down next to her.

“Does it hurt?”

“Hmm?”

“Your head, darling. Does it—?”

“Oh, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

The way she blew off his rare kindness brought him right back to his previous rage, like he’d never left it. His mood visibly soured.

“You’re doing it again,” she muttered.

Astarion scoffed, “Pray tell, what am I apparently doing again?”

She shook her head, “It’s so silly.”

“I could use a laugh.”

Vistri sighed, admitting bashfully, “You’re… You keep frowning at me. Like you care what happens to me—Or something! I don’t know what you’re playing at, but we both know what’s what here and I’d rather that than be played a fool.”

Her words struck his heart, and reminded Astarion of who he really was.

“Well… That wasn’t very funny. Try again.”

Vistri laughed, “You prick!”

For that second, he wasn’t a leech, and she wasn’t an empty glass. They stepped out of their roles to be Astarion and Vistri sharing a joke together. Then reality set in.

“I don’t like to see you hurt,” he said out loud, trying it on for size. It wasn’t wrong either. He felt like rats had been chewing through his veins as he watched her twist and shriek in the grasp of that alien machine.

“Afraid of the goods getting damaged?”

He smirked, “Obviously.”

Vistri pulled apart a bit of hay, watching it break between her fingers without seeing it, “I don’t know how to take… I mean…”

Astarion waited for her to continue, but more words never came. His hand reached for hers, “Vistri, I—I don’t want bad things to happen to you.”

That desperate look in her eyes pleaded for truth, but Astarion was lost as to what that was. A chill ran through him. She deserved so much more, and all he had to offer was himself, a falsehood.

He watched her try her best to believe in his words, and squeezed her hand, “Do you think it brings me pleasure to see you in pain?”

Vistri raised an amused brow.

Astarion chuckled, “Yes, of course that, but it’s not the same, is it?”

She smirked and scratched the back of her neck, “No.”

“Even with that, it’s not so much seeing you in pain, as it is seeing you let me do it.”

“Seeing me let you do what?”

His smile was devilish, “Anything I want.”

A bit of shyness colored her agitation. The more he watched her expression, the more it seemed to change to sadness. There was so much beauty to take in from the distance, but Vistri was staring out at nothing.

“Yeah,” she said.

Astarion brought her knuckles up to brush them with his lips. And kissed them bump by bump.

“My pretty pet… What is it that bothers you so?”

Vistri sighed, “You’re being nice outside of the bedroom and it’s weird.”

He scoffed and dropped her hand, “I’m nice!”

She leaned in and raised her brow.

“Don’t look at me like that. You make me nice.”

“Why?”

“Why? I don’t know why. It… Ugh! Maybe it rubs off!”

Uncomfortable with the heaviness, Vistri joked, “Gods know we do a lot of rubbing.”

He chuckled, looping his fingers through hers.

She looked out into the distance again. So did he.

As they sat there, Astarion played back every word and interaction he’d had with her that day, the day before, and basically any time they’d ever spent together. He was trying to figure her out on his own, and the more he contemplated, the more vileness crawled up his throat like bile. Every detail he went through made her more vulnerable, which made him more of a monster.

“What is it about this time?”

He was surprised she spoke. It had been a while since either of them said anything, “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes. I’m asking because I really want to know.”

“Now, now, darling. We don’t bite without asking.”

Vistri smirked her apology.

“I didn’t know I was being any different. Except… Why did you jump into that thing? That device? Wait—Don’t answer that, just listen. Because then I thought… That’s not the first time I’ve seen you jump in like that. Countless times… And then there’s me. And that’s the thing that explains it all, isn’t it?”

“What are you on about?”

“I think you’re hoping something’s going to come along and finally kill you. Like you died ages ago, and the moment to pass on keeps running by and you’re just… Well, maybe you’re just trying to catch up to it,” Astarion spoke plainly, without any weight, just a statement. He cleared his throat upon finishing his last word.

Vistri dropped his hand and laughed, “Silly boy!”

They’d held on for so long, letting go felt like losing a limb. Their empty, damp palms were chilled by the air as it breezed by.

“Right. Silly me,” he said with the absence of amusement.

“What do you want here?”

“What do I want? I don’t want anything,” he made a grand gesture with his hands, “I’m simply revealing my revelations.”

She scoffed, “What? That I’m just waiting for death? Aren’t we all?”

He sighed, “Forget I said anything.”

Vistri felt her lips tremble. She felt so stupid, “That’s it?”

“I was concerned. I said my bit. We can move on if you don’t want to discuss it further.”

She sat there and raged. Who the fuck was he to pretend to know her?

“You don’t care.”

“I never said I didn’t,” he didn’t know if that was true.

Biting her lip, Vistri tried to pull herself together. She needed to breathe, but a big wave of something ugly threatened to slip out with every bit of exhale. Her past was like an octopus, and the constant vibratory tension from his worry ripped a hole through the steel walls neatly containing it in a forgotten corner of her mind. Like a clean, empty facility, it was abandoned, yet well-tended to. His queries poked through the hole and reached around inside, and if even one tentacle got wind of the crack, all eight arms could slip out, and its head would follow like liquid. 

Astarion could see she was on the verge of telling him something but needed a bit more encouragement. He grabbed her hand, “I think I do care. At least enough to wonder what that’s all about.”

Again, he didn’t know if it was true, but it felt… not like a lie.

“Promise me you’ll laugh?” she asked.

Astarion sighed, “If that’s what you want, I’ll do my best to oblige.”

“All right, then,” her smile was unnerving. It wasn’t just out of place in the moment, it was equal parts ‘grimace as a silent shriek’ and ‘grin of a delighted fey’, “I could tell you the story of what I was doing before the Nautiloid snatched me up. Does that sound good to you?”

“I guess…”

She still wore that same horrific expression, “I was on a cliff just like this one, trying my best to jump right in, as you put it before.”

As shocking as that was, it really wasn’t. He might’ve placed his bets on someone else if he’d have guessed, but he also wasn’t that surprised. Of course he was drawn to another soul as wretched as his. In the best of cosmic jokes, Astarion picked a mirror to play Cazador to. 

He answered slowly, carefully as if navigating a minefield, “Yeah?”

Vistri pouted, “You promised to laugh!”

Astarion gave a weak, “Ahahahaha…”

She rolled her eyes, scoffing, “It’s funny!”

“Sure it is.”

“Whatever.”

“While the thought of you going splat is endlessly amusing, your delivery was all wrong, love.”

“What a critic!”

“Try again.”

Vistri cleared her throat, ready to be dazzling, "Okay, Hold on... It was a day just like any other day—”

“Gods! Not like that!” he teased, “We’ll be sitting here until the sun rises again.”

She glared at him, “I see you expect perfection.”

“I accept,” he spread his fingers and collected them back with a sweeping wave, “No less.”

She smirked at him slyly “There once was a Drow named Vistri, who some say was quite the mys-try!”

Astarion nodded his approval.

She proudly continued her improvised little song, “She went to jump over a cliff, but it was a miss. She took a step forward, oh my she was tortured! Then down from the sky came a very bad guy, and a tentacle scooped her up northward!”

Astarion couldn’t help but actually laugh with her this time, “It’s not funny! But—While you were stepping over the edge?”

“Yes! One foot hovering over the abyss,” she giggled, “Then poof!”

“If that would happen to anyone, it would happen to you. Or me, come to think of it.”

Vistri wiped the tears from her eyes, “It’s ridiculous!”

“It’s truly amazing, is what it is.”

“It never works for me, you know,” she said, “Any time I try to… Well. You know. It’s something in my magic, I was born with the powers of an old dragon I didn’t do anything to earn. My magic is always there—I didn’t ask for it, and more than just a survival instinct, it’s like a vengeance of life.”

“A vengeance of life? I can identify with that. I think I survived those two hundred years just out of pure spite. A stake through the heart felt like letting him win.”

“No matter what I try, it’s always okay in the end,” she continued, “I can’t even take myself seriously after a while. More than half the times I’ve… I’d be going over plans in my head of what to do later that evening. And after all those times, I’m still here.”

“I don’t hate that you’re still here.”

Vistri scoffed, “Yeah?”

“No, I mean it. I’m glad,” he took her hand back, “I benefit, at least.”

She smirked, but her eyes were dead. They filled and ran without noticing, just sitting there in her skull, barely looking out.

One “Ha” of a laugh escaped him that was more like a huff, “And immediately after, you had to fight for your life.”

“What?”

Astarion pointed to his head, “Tadpole. Big ship? Took us up? Remember?”

She chuckled, but it was so empty, “Shut up.”

“Do you really want me to? Or can I ask you another question?”

“Go on,” she said weakly.

“It’s rather broad, are you all right with that?”

She shot him a suspicious glance, but the accusation quickly melted into something else, “All right.”

Astarion sighed, and then simply asked, “Why?”

Like a child, she brought her knees up to her chest, and rested her chin in the crook of them. Her expression was thoughtful, not refusing. She looked like she was going to answer, and was just deciding how.

And then she didn’t. She just sat there and stared ahead.

The broken way he eventually said, “Oh, my darling…” pulled at her thread that was holding everything together.

“Don’t!”

Vistri was stiff as the rock around them. So unmoving, she was shaking.

“I’m sorry,” he said very calmly, “Is there anything I can do?”

She shut her eyes tight, and began rocking, “No. Stay there. Shush.”

He nodded and waited for her signal to do anything other than watch and freeze. The timelessness of the hells fell over their heads. Gravity felt steeper. Now was forever.

“Okay,” her voice broke the spell, and she looked up at him, nodding, to repeat, “Okay.”

Astarion flew around her, and for the first time outside of a whoopsie in battle or moment of fun, held her tightly, so tight, for the sake of his own aching heart. He kissed the top of her head reflexively. Warming her back with one hand, he cradled her face against his neck with the other. He genuinely wanted to do it, felt no ulterior motivation, but at the same time, a part of his mind marked his victory. Catching her up at a vulnerable moment, and being the shoulder she leaned on, would bind her to him like a warding enchantment.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered senselessly, “I’m so sorry.” He had no idea whether he was apologizing for whatever she couldn’t say, or himself. Perhaps both. Perhaps a bit more for his own wrongdoing.

Only it didn’t feel wrong. And that scared him. Frightened him.

Vistri knew she was crying but couldn’t feel herself doing so. She knew she was being held by him, but rather looked out and saw it from above and off to the side. She thought she looked terrible, and he looked so fine. Dashingly picturesque and tragic.

Nobody ever held her the way he did now. She never felt such warmth, and they were both such cold people. How was it possible? Was it some dream?

She started speaking, “We’re more similar than you know.”

Right then, Astarion predicted the gist of what she was about to say. He could tell by the look on her face and the way her tone itched at his brain, she had her own Cazador. She also walked around weighted by invisible chains held by a very nasty man. Same prison, different jailor; he was understood. He found a home there in that knowing. Still, he’d give her his own rusted shackles just to lighten his burden, even if it meant crushing her under them. Anything to soothe the wound.

He’d warned her so many times; he was a thing that ate. He had real no say in the matter, the curse that fueled his undead life was a restless jaw. If Vistri was looking for a guide to a kinder world, she wouldn’t find it in his arms. They belonged to another very nasty man. Even though it was different this time, he’d take her with him to Cazador’s lair and someone would die. If only one of them were to make it out of this mess alive, well, he was a scrappy survivor, and she was the type to ball up and welcome oblivion. Anything to be free.

“Yeah,” was all he said, and it was so warm. Like an embrace, it held her softly, making her feel like something meant to be protected. She nodded tearfully into him. Leaning on him like this was an indulgence, but he tolerated it at least enough to let it happen. Vistri knew she had to pull herself together. The home she found was rented, and she could only borrow so much. Astarion had more to give, but it wasn’t for her. There was no way she’d be one of the lucky ones.

He kissed her head again, and caught himself, “Sorry. Is it okay to touch you?”

She nodded harder than the last time.

His chuckle was relief. To her, it was a song. He held her tighter. She dissolved. He’d taken off her mask, stripped her of her costume, and naked, she cried into his chest, “I just want to die. I want to be dead. And I can’t. I keep trying, and I can’t!”

Holding her at a moment like this was a key part of his plan. Step one, open her legs. Step two, her heart. It was a system as efficient as it was ugly and cheap. And it made him ugly and cheap, but it also made him safe. He closed his eyes, Vistri’s tears soaking through his shirt felt like fire and it burned into his cursed, cold skin like a holy symbol; a brand. It was like her body knew what lurked inside his, called him out for the parasite he was even as she was oblivious to it, and fought back to defend against him when she couldn’t.

Vistri sunk into him, tucked into his warmth. She found her breath again in his arms, and in the moment she came back to herself, started to laugh.

He peeked down, “What are you chuckling about in there?”

Her eyes still freely flowed, silent and thick, but she was more present than before, “In where?”

“My shirt,” he said, “My damp shirt, mind you.”

“How is that my fault?”

He glared at her, “What do you mean, how?”

“I told you not to ask questions.”

“Well excuse me for wondering about your tendency to… To—”

“Try to kill myself?” she finished, her tone too light.

Astarion sighed. She threw her head back and laughed. He didn’t join in.

“You promised!”

“Let me let you in on a little secret about me and promises,” he said dangerously sardonic, eyes lowered, “Besides, I already pretended to laugh earlier.”

“Faking it doesn’t count!”

“Maybe I’d find it funnier if…”

“If what?”

If what?

If the others wouldn’t kill him before her corpse was cold? If they didn’t rely on each other every battle? If the very thought of her…

“Oh, I don’t know! I don’t want you dead! Is that so horrible to believe?”

His grumpiness was sweet. They were always pretending, with each other, with everyone else. Vistri knew it the moment she first laid eyes on him. That’s why every word he uttered that she ever wanted to hear made her ache all over with a dull sorrow, and why the words he pushed her away with were such tender caresses.

“Of course it’s horrible,” she joked, smiling, “I can’t give you what you want and kill myself! However will my two worst impulses co-exist?”

Astarion smirked, “Shithead.”

She smiled, and that sign of life from her made his blood rush.

He kissed her cheek to whisper in her ear, “If you ever feel such a desire coming upon you in the future, come to me, darling. I won’t provide you a real death, but I have plenty of little ones to give.”

His advances flooded Vistri with relief, she knew who she was within desire. Who to be and how to be had familiar answers, and reuniting with any sense of self was such a comfort, she had her first real sense of stillness since breakfast that morning.

He was so close, she prayed he didn’t hear the way her breath gave out.

“I heard that,” he muttered against her cheekbone.

“No, you didn’t,” she giggled heatedly.

“Yes, I did. Now, I know you want it, but I can’t give you that yet. There’s something you must do first.”

“Gods!” she groaned, “Please tell me you’re not about to request I promise not to throw myself right off this cliff!”

He chuckled, “I wasn’t born yesterday! That’s not a promise you’d keep in the long term. Then I’d have to call off whatever this is between us because you’d be lying just to get in my pants, and that would be awkward because your lie would have been exposed just after you tried to off yourself.”

She laughed loudly, “I wouldn’t lie! I would just refuse, and eventually you’d fuck me anyway.”

He grabbed hold of her wrists and leered at her seriously with a piercing expression. Time seemed to stop.

Astarion observed her reaction to pick apart her every emotion, willing his own to remain carefully neutral. Her confidence was so hollow. Her eyes gleamed with the delight of having him wrapped around her little finger, and yes, gods yes, he’d suck it and moan and beg for more, but he was the one really in control. He had all the power because he was clearly giving her something she never had.

The first cut and all that.

Her fingers played with his chest through his open shirt. His heart skipped on its own at the brush of their tips.

“And what about you?”

His mind had wandered, and while he was away, one of her arms broke free to reach for him, “What?”

“How tempting is this cliff?”

“Me? Oh! Right. That, uh,” he paused with a scoffing chuckle, “No, my dear. Sadly, it was my wish to live that landed me in this spot in the first place.”

“And since?”

Releasing her other wrist from his grip, he answered dryly, “Everything’s been fairies and rainbows, and all my days have had happy endings.”

Vistri smirked, raising her brow, “Well, they do now, at least.”

He flashed a heated smile and lowered his eyes, “Why do you care to ask?”

She squinted at his question, like it had the sting of an insult, “I don’t know! Why do you care to ask me?”

“You’re right. That was horrible! Let’s never care again!”

He expected her to laugh but she looked rather serious. “I didn’t mean for you to worry,” her tone was small, and younger than he’d ever heard.

His smirk was friendly and understanding, “If it helps, I was more curious than anything else.”

“Curious?!”

There was a contentedness in his playful tone, “They call her Vistri, ‘cus she’s a mys-try!”

“Oh, stick to readership, darling.”

He growled and tackled her to the ground. She was breathless underneath him, laughing like every spot on her body tickled at once. Some might call it happiness, and maybe it was; Astarion felt it as acceptance. Overwhelming acceptance. So adored, he was given anything he wanted, completely spoiled. And if he was invited to take, why shouldn’t he?

“Remember that favor, my dear?” he asked, pinning her forearms above her head. Before she could answer, he leaned in for a kiss, one that was gentle and hungry.

Her sighs were moans, “Maybe I’ll wait it out.”

He kissed her neck and whispered, “Could you?”

The way she shivered was her answer. Astarion grinned and stroked her throat with the tip of his nose. From the base of it to her chin, and sealed his gesture with another longing kiss.

She was his.

Even if it meant degrading herself. Being his little slut, bent over and drooling. He moaned on the next stroke of her tongue, overcome by the whim to fuck her senseless. His mind reeled with possibility. Just how far would she go for him, out in the open air, with the others just off into the distance? How could he give her a taste of a life that was worth living?

“Get yourself off for me, dear.”

“Here?” Vistri asked, grinning. Her heart pounded faster than it already was.

They weren’t exactly discreet, but only ever touched each other tucked away in the woods or his tent. Here, out on the cliff where anyone might see… It was like he was claiming her. Like maybe some small part of his mind, or some feeling deep down, knew how important she was going to be to him once he realized his truth. That if he asked her to cum in the open air under the evening glow, she was worth something.

“The sun is disappearing, and I’ll cover you.”

Her grin grew wider, even reaching her eyes. She tried to tug one of her arms free from his grip.

“Ah, ah! No hands."

She looked at him curiously. Maybe he’d changed his mind about her. Maybe he had a delightfully naughty idea. Maybe this was the start of his attempt to toss her off the cliff.

He unwrapped one of her legs from around his, and slid his thigh between hers, “Use me.”

“Okay.”

Showing her how to proceed, Astarion rubbed himself against her middle. She bit her lip and began to roll her hips. Her obedience was like a drug, and they passed it with their tongues where it melted into them and infected their minds worse than those tadpoles ever could.

“Good,” he praised, just above a whisper. He fondled her neck, and the hand he let go of shot to his curls. His fangs throbbed, so ready to take her that he gasped as if biting into something hot whenever they touched her skin.

She made a sound he had to shush, it was too personal and way too explicit.

“I can block you from view, but I cannot stop your sound.”

She nodded, sighing and rocking against his thigh.

“All the pieces come together,” he said as she pleasured herself on him, “You’ve always given yourself to me so willingly. Let me bite you. Now I know why.”

Vistri tossed her head back, craning her neck, and sighed, “There are worse things than dying in the arms of someone pretty.”

“And if I had killed you that night?”

“I hope you would have drunk me up.”

A full, wanting, warm acceptance of himself—Not just his charm, but the monster, the ugliness in him. She wanted all of it, treasured all of him. He’d never been good enough for anyone before, just a disappointment under an illusion. But she made him feel like a god.

He groaned, composure slipping, “Ohfuckme…”

“Okay.”

“Not yet,” his grip on her arm loosened enough for him to travel up her wrists and interlace their fingers, “You haven’t earned it.”

She shouldn’t surrender. It would just be another attempt at non-existence. Why couldn’t she have answered with something along the lines of coming back to life just to drive a stake through his heart? Astarion wished it had been anything other than wanting him to have his fill, even if it meant her destruction. It was her will to be his sacrifice, to be truly devoured. He shouldn’t yearn for her so completely; cherish the way, I hope you would have drunk me up, fell out of her so blissfully, like belonging to him was a good thing.

Vistri playing with the point of his ear made him twitch and toss his head. The moan that betrayed him sounded so pathetic.

“I could wait you out.”

He chuckled, “No, you couldn’t. As much as I want you, I’m stubborn. Thrill me all you want, love, I’m determined for you to be absolutely dripping before I give you that.”

She arched her back, “I’m close.”

She wasn’t.

“Already?”

Not nearly, but worried she couldn’t give him his fantasy, she played the part.

The muscles on her face squeezed up real tight, and as her breath grew more shallow, she exhaled with high-pitched, little cries. Her tension peaked and melted away, “Already.”

It didn’t fool him one bit. In fact, he was sure that wasn’t even her finest performance. Like she’d started to pretend and went somewhere else, forgetting she was still on stage. Or a whore with ‘first day’ nerves. He was frowning when she opened her eyes.

“What?”

“Did you just fake it?!”

Vistri’s eyes grew real wide, and having been called out, laughed breathlessly, “Gods!”

“I was right! You faked it!”

She got caught up in another wave of laughter, “I’m sorry!”

Astarion smirked and tickled her sides, “Faking it doesn’t count!”

Squealing and wriggling to dodge his hands, she protested, “It wasn’t a lie! It was an attempt!”

“An attempt?! What is that supposed to mean? An attempt!”

Vistri couldn’t get a word in. She couldn’t breathe, “Please!”

He stopped tickling her so she could answer. Her breasts bounced with her heaving chest. His palms roamed over to cup them, “Did you not like it?” He’d thought of it just for her, and played with her nipples to distract himself from sudden choking disappointment. Buried in arousal, the sting ebbed away.

“No, I love it! Your thigh is heavenly, but you have other, better parts for pleasing—”

“How much better?” he interrupted in a heated tone.

Laughing, she answered, “Better than anything in the world! And not just this,” she brought her hand between his legs and gave that beloved, rock-hard part of him a squeeze, “Although it is wonderful, you have so many other parts for pleasing.”

“Just not my thigh.”

“It pleases, just not enough to bring a bout of ecstasy.”

“Do you want to stop?” He would at her command, but wasn’t ready to lose her.

She ran her hand along it, “No.”

A bright feeling ran through his spine, “You’d like to continue?”

“I do,” her hips resumed their flowing movement.

Her validation killed his fears, and so grateful for the throne to her world, a soft smile nestled in his expression, tugging at the corners of his mouth, “Give yourself time to get there, darling. It’s the journey, not the destination. I can watch you burst any time I want, but for now I want to observe as you slowly unravel.”

“Okay,” she moaned.

“And no performances this time. I will be very displeased. Do you want me displeased?”

She shook her head, “No.”

Anything but that. She’d be good for him so he wouldn’t throw her out.

“Good. Now slow down. You’re not just any rutting pup. You’re my little dragon and these sensations are your treasure. Lurk among your treasures, dear. Survey them, indulge.”

Her thrusts followed the command of his voice. She let them linger, like a slow drip.

“That’s it,” he praised, squeezing her breasts until she gasped.

Astarion looked around, and no one was in sight. The others would stay on the other side of camp for most of the evening and had no reason to pass by other than Lae’zel and Shadowheart, but it was still unlikely either of them would see.

He tugged her shirt lower, stretching it until her breasts spilled out through the top. Gravity squished them into perfect spheres under her neck, and her nipples just peaked out.

His tongue felt so warm on them. The impact of bumping into his thigh and the tight grinding against his femur were her favorite treasures, and then his roaming mouth was added to her pile. She could feel her pants bunching up as they soaked with her, and the damp cloth pinched at her skin as she humped him. The sting of it was a rainfall of coin over her glittering pile of sapphires and amethysts.

Kissing her deeply, Astarion took her hand and moved it back to his bursting laces. Their fingers tangled, undoing them together. When they were loose enough, he pulled her hand through the opening and wrapped it around his cock.

“Gods!” he groaned as she stroked him skin to skin.

Throbbing under her fingers, pulsing, hard; the perversity of her hand dipping into his trousers, riding his leg, nearing completion; his taste, his smell, his focus trained on only her: These were diamonds, so sharp they cut her. But they were so beautiful! And clear, and shone so bright!

“If I outlast you,” she sighed, “Then I win.”

She might win. Astarion did his best to hold back, but he was leaking in her hands.

“What would you win?”

“The mess of you all over my skin.”

He tried to think of something else, anything else, other than the image that conjured. It brought him too close. Teetering on the edge and planting his feet there, he moaned and it sounded like something dying.

Vistri gasped as it met her ears, bringing her closer.

His hands wandered down to her bum, and squeezed it in both hands, adding more pressure to her thrusts, bringing her closer to him. Closer and closer. Her bones started to hurt, ground away by his, but that ache was a handful of rubies, red and lush.

“Harder,” she said.

Astarion tightened his grip, leaned into her movements. He held her so near she could nuzzle her face into his shoulder. His skin was a pearl against her cheek.

“Kiss me,” Vistri pleaded, and when he did, she lost.

“I’m—” a little possession, a bit of a wail, and she could no longer speak.

In her rapture, she ceased her stroking, gripped him like a pulsing cunt, then left her palm hanging limply under his laces. His eyes were fighting to roll back when she let go, and even as he was grateful for it, just the brush of her unmoving hand was enough to be dangerous.

He pinned it above her head to take it away, “And now you’re mine to take.”

Her face was flushed, her breath still gone. “Yours to take,” she repeated as consent.

Pulling down her trousers, he found a river of her. He pushed her thighs up into her chest and took a look between them. Her pants were soaking, their slit a dark spot.

“All mine?” he asked.

She nodded, giving herself to him entirely. The fact that he wanted it made her blissful, like she belonged.

“Well, well, well,” he brought his face lower and spoke between her legs, “Might I have a taste? You smell de-licious!”

“Yes,” she whimpered, trembling. He gave a long, lingering lick along that dark spot, and she arched her back, groaning.

Astarion lifted his head to take another look around. The position they were in now was a bit more conspicuous. A dark part of him wished the others were around to watch him feed.

He kissed the back of her thighs, and she didn’t let even one of them slip by without a reaction. His tongue wrapped around the soaking strip of her pants, and he peeled them up to the crook of her knees with his teeth. A hungry whine left him, being so close to her skin flushed with pumping supper.

His nose nuzzled the back of her knee, tangling in her underwear, “Turns out a taste was just not enough. Mind if I take a bite?”

“Please!”

Her back writhed pleasantly against his cock as he sunk aching fangs into her flesh. He hadn’t anticipated the force of her leg pushing against his face. Her arms were so much weaker, and her neck never offered any resistance. Oh, but he liked it! Astarion felt vicious, attacking and taking something that fought back.

Having taken enough, he forced himself to stop. He pressed his tongue against the wound until it closed and gave it a kiss. Then he licked up every drop of crimson dripping down her lavender thigh. His tongue strayed its course, finding her middle. Vistri grabbed his head as he indulged in another kind of meal.

It was one of his parts she said was good for pleasing. She’d already earned him with one little death, but he gave her another, and another.

After the fourth, she summoned her very best begging voice, “Please, fuck me!”

His face was covered and shining with her wet. It even dripped down his throat, mixing with smears of her blood, “I thought I was.”

“Bury yourself in me.”

He made a quick vow to himself that it wouldn’t be over the moment he did. Then dove in with an uncomposed groan, “Fuck’ssake!”

The genuine sounds of what she tried to fake earlier were in his ears, right under them.

“Already?” he asked.

“Already!”

His face screwed up tight with hers, and as she pulsed around him, he yelped with the effort to hold back.

At the end of his cock, her chest pried open as if split down the middle, exposing her insides like two heavy doors creaking their welcome. Astarion felt himself crawl up her gut and slip into her heart, where sitting inside it, he could reach up with clawed, wretched fingers and tear at her throat. Then he’d kiss it better, the only one able to do so, and she’d never leave his side.

He felt her fingers on his chest, and found himself facing a pair of attentive eyes.

“Come back to me,” she asked like it was a favor, with a touch of light affection, an air of breathlessness, and enough simplicity that it was safe to come back.

“Hello there,” he smiled.

Vistri pulled him close for a kiss so full of gentle, living heat it was a hearth.

“It’s okay,” she said, forehead pressed to his, “You can let go.”

Starved of something in her tone, his body released into hers.

“Vistri!” he called out her name like it was the only thing that could save him. Then caught himself, realizing he’d been loud enough to carry across camp, “Shit!—Huh!”

Her arms flew upwards, wrapping around his head as if to help him keep his soul from seeping out. She couldn’t help the way her body responded to his echoes of pleasure by leaping into another wave of ecstasy. Just to be with him. A reflex of hers that must’ve been borne from her haunting impulse to follow him anywhere.

Unable to leave her, he let himself slide a little in and out; slow, slight strokes. Then finally stilled. They stared at each other a long while before moving apart.

“We should get cleaned up.”

“Right,” he muttered, “Right.”

She kissed the tip of his nose and giggled, “You have to get off me.”

He pecked her ear, “But I don’t want to.”

She laughed heartily and tossed him aside, “Get off me!”

“I was comfortable there!” he whined.

“Tough shit,” she grinned.

Astarion smiled back with empty eyes, sure that her grin was meant for someone else; the person he pretended to be.

“Are you all right?”

Apparently, he was unable to hide. When a lie didn’t work, there were always deflections.

“I’m more than all right! How’s your head? Didn’t steal too much of you, did I?”

“Astarion.”

When deflections failed to take, the only thing left was trading one truth for another. What could he sacrifice to keep the main thing hidden? It had to fit the same feelings as those he already wore.

“I just keep thinking… And excuse me, it’s quite selfish,” he moved some hair out of her face, “If you’d gotten what you wanted, you and I would never have met.”

Her round eyes were so fragile as they looked into his. All of her walls were knocked over, and the part of her that sat there was all raw existence.

She grabbed his hand, kissing his fingers. “All right then,” she rolled those round, breakable eyes, admitting, “I’m glad we did.”

Vistri was his. He squeezed her hand as if to tell her, never let go.

Rooted to the spot, they sat together and looked out at the view, actually seeing it this time. They deserved to have a nice sunset. One nice sunset.

“You’re unusually quiet.”

“I’m just taking everything in. Look at it! Aren’t you glad we aren’t just stuffed in your tent?”

Astarion raised his brow, “Insulting my castle is no way to get invited back, you know.”

She giggled and nudged his shoulder with hers, “It wasn’t meant as an insult.”

“You sure?”

She laughed, “Are you scolding me, Astarion?”

“No!”

“You are! Like you’re my mother or something! Well… Not my mother. She wouldn’t give a shit if I hurt myself. She scolded me plenty, but only over being an embarrassment or an inconvenience. Sometimes both.”

Vistri never talked about her past with any of them. Not even himself, who couldn’t stop telling her about Cazador once he started. It made Astarion hold his breath, afraid to chase away her confessions with the slightest disturbance.

“Gods! How in the hells did I end up talking about my mother? What a silly thing…”

Astarion leaned back, “I don’t know. Probably for the same reason I mention Cazador from time to time. If she’s as bad as she sounds.”

Vistri chuckled, “Her and Cazador would probably be friends.”

“He did often call me an embarrassment and an inconvenience.”

Vistri looked down shyly, “You’re not either of those things to me.”

Astarion took her hand, “Thank you. And neither are you. You know that, right?”

“You flatterer,” she teased.

His smile was a heapful of sorrow. All his lies were true, and his truth was a lie. His pretty songs echoed his real heartbeats. His determination to trap her was a sham, for he’d got caught up in it himself. She was right, Astarion was a flatterer, but he also wasn’t.

Neither confirming nor denying his accusation, Vistri settled for the worst case answer. He was probably looking for an excuse to leave. They always met up for this so much later in the night, and the sun hadn’t fully set yet.

Not wanting him to go, she turned her attention back to the view around them, “You know this big crater around us was probably an ocean before?”

“Actually?” he asked, grateful for a change of subject.

“It’s what must have made this shape. Well, that or a god’s great big fist,” Vistri rambled, “But I bet we’d find a lot of old bones in this stone if we looked for them. That’s what would tell us for sure.”

Astarion brushed his fingers lightly over her fist. She opened it so his fingers fell gently into her palm. He stroked along its curves until she closed her fingers around them.

“Would they be fish bones?”

“Ancient fish bones! And they probably wouldn’t even look like any fish we know. They might even look like monsters!”

“You like those,” he smirked, “Don’t you?”

“I don’t think of you as a monster. I think of you as a vampire.”

Like he was part of a species and not just a classification of Undead. Natural, and not a twisted version of life. Heart aching with the idea, Astarion’s eyes softened, showing Vistri an emotion she wasn’t sure he was capable of. Something she’d given up on ever earning from anyone. 

“A rather refreshing perspective. Just look at that waterfall! Isn’t it darling? And that little river that runs with it.”

Vistri nodded her head against his breast and stated theatrically, “All that remains of a mighty, prehistoric sea.”

The colors in the sky were candy-bright before they grew dark. They were still holding onto each other’s hands when the stars came out, even though they’d shifted positions as often as conversation topics.

It was only allowed because they pretended not to notice.

Lying down was better for looking out at the stars, but Vistri was so exhausted, it was hard not to slip into trance whenever she blinked her eyes. Astarion watched it take over, her face tucked in the nook of his shoulder.

Poor thing. She didn’t deserve to be cast under his spell, another of his cursed conquests. Even though Baldur’s Gate was still far away, and the tadpole took away the power of compulsion, every time his heart skipped for her, it sang, Caz-a-dor, Caz-a-dor, take her to Caz-a-dor! Any time he felt a part of himself wishing they’d met much sooner, Astarion was reminded she would have just been discarded like all the rest.

Sighing, he tried to slip into his trance. He closed his eyes. Opened them. They were on a cliff, how stupid would they be to remain unconscious here. Careful not to rouse her, Astarion untangled himself from her grasp to get up and carry her.

With his cursed heart pumping her dragon blood through his muscles, she was so easy to whisk away. He had to look where he was stepping, but her face proved such a distraction. The moonlight bounced off her silver scales and set her periwinkle skin aglow.

He smiled, stopping for a moment to appreciate—”Mother of fuck!”

Lolth didn’t guide her Drow towards pretty memories, she filled their heads with living nightmares. Whatever Vistri saw in her trance, it wasn’t bunnies. Still deeply within it, she’d reached out and punched Astarion vaguely in the nose with a whimper. He almost dropped her.

“Hells, girl!” he muttered, readjusting her in his arms.

At least some part of her fought back. The pulsing pain in his face was a reminder of what he deserved. As he walked passed the dying campfire, he leaned over and blew angrily into it, hoping that was enough to revive it but not really giving a shit either way. Then he tucked them through his tent flaps, and set her down with care.

She was simply the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Just one part of her face; whether the metallic scales across her brow with her eyes closed under them, the shape of her nose and a peek of cheekbone at the side, or her pouting lips that rested over her chin; was equivalent to an entire sunset watched from a cliffside, on a mountain, towering above lively rivers and waterfalls. Such beauty required a tenderness he was too base to give. Pride in ownership soiled the sweet whispers of his heart. Greed reverberated through him, and loathing for himself echoed out of every pore. 

Astarion frowned as he surveyed Vistri on the floor of his tent. She couldn’t be too comfortable. Torn between the idea of fixing it and accidentally waking her, he started to pace around for a solution.

Like a sickly, potent stomach acid, he’d consume her slowly; digested through the mouth, by his tongue. His doing. He had a rot he needed someone else to hold.

With no good way to toss her into a bedroll, he made a nest of some blankets, and rolled her on top. Treating her like a baby bird, he adjusted her neck to rest on a cushion. He moved hair away from her face, caressed her cheek, and stopped himself from planting a peck on her brow.

He changed his mind as he settled in next to her. His racing thoughts made trance unreachable, but when his lips met her cool forehead, a peace came over him. Astarion took a deep breath through his nose before pulling away, and his eyes thickened with a bit of moisture.

“Rest up,” he whispered. And when he next closed his eyes, trance came to him. Unlike hers, it was his only refuge from nightmares.

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

[the-handsome-stranger]

Kamala...I'm from the government and I'm here to help!

HARRIS finally breaks down and visits a remote northern Indian reservation. With news crews following her around as they tour the place, the Vice President asks the chief if there was anything they need.

"Well," says the chief, "We have three very important needs. First, we have a medical clinic but no doctor to man it."

Harris whips out her cell phone, dials a number, talks to somebody for two minutes and then hangs up. "I've pulled some strings. Your doctor will arrive in a few days. Now what was the second problem?"

"We have no way to get clean water. The local mining operation has poisoned the water our people have been drinking for dozens of years. We've been flying bottled water in, and it's terribly expensive."

Once again, Harris dials a number, yells into her cell phone for a few minutes, and then hangs up. "The mine has been shut down, and the owner is being billed for setting up a purification plant for your people. Now what was that third problem?"

The chief looks at her and says, "We have no cellphone reception up here!"

[mountrainiernps]

There’s something about the our home, the Pacific Northwest, that seems to make many people think of rain.

We do get quite a bit of our yearly precipitation during the winter months. At the higher elevations, like Paradise, it will probably be snow. At lower elevations, like Longmire and the Nisqually Entrance, it will probably be rain.

And you’d think with all this precipitation, finding drinking water during your hike, ski or snow shoe is no problem. It’s not, if you’re prepared. While you’re packing up your backpack at home, you run through your check list of 10 Essentials, packing everything you’ll need, and hydration is one of them.

Do you prefer to carry all your water for your hike or snowshoe? Bringing along a refillable bottle or two or three means you can drink while out having fun, and then refill at Longmire for the drive home. Some folks swear by a water bladder in the backpack. Did you know you can get insulated ones so it doesn’t freeze up in the freezing temperatures?

Or do you bring a refillable container plus a purification system? Whether filter or other options, it’s the smart, healthy thing to always purify natural water resources. In the winter, open water can be hard to find or access, which can mean you’d also need a way to heat and melt snow. The winter season 10 Essentials at some parks can include bringing a stove and fuel.

How do you like to plan ahead for hydration for your winter fun at Mount Rainier? ~ams

More information on the 10 Essentials can be found on this website https://www.nps.gov/articles/10essentials.htm  Park information on winter safety can be found here https://www.nps.gov/mora/planyourvisit/winter-safety.htm  For current conditions, these webcams may be helpful https://www.nps.gov/mora/learn/photosmultimedia/webcams.htm

These photographs are from past years. NPS Photo. Longmire Administration building  with late autumn colors. Eagle Peak visible in background. November, 2015. NPS Photo. Nisqually River from Wonderland Trail between Cougar Rock and Longmire. Snow covers the ground, rocks and trees. February, 2014. NPS Photo. Snow covered trees at Paradise with clouds partly hiding Mount Rainier. December, 2021.

[sporadicarbitergardener]

Uses for sand

Types of Sand & Their Correspondences Beach/Coastal Sand: calming, grounding, cleansing, connecting to the sea, self-love, protection and warding, motivation, memory, spiritual clarity, purification of the heart, easing pain, physical and spiritual strength, can represent both the elements of earth and water Ocean Sand (from the ocean floor/deep sea): primordial energy, banishing negative emotions and energy, grounding, mental clarity, psychic clarity and strengthening, divination, guidance, ancient wisdom and power, connections to the sea and primordial waters, birth, creation, can represent both the elements of earth and water Desert Sand: curses and removing energy from others, weakening, draining, banishing, grounding, mental clarity, physical health, enduring hardships, “drying up” love and past emotions, healing heartbreak, burying the past, often related to burial ceremonies Volcanic Sand: destruction, intense energy, strength, death, rebirth, banishing, secrets or hidden messages, warding, baneful magic, offensive magic, often represents both earth and fire at once River Sand/Silt: fertility, procreation, movement, flowing energy, travels, change Lake/Pond Sand: the present, calmness, serenity, inner focus, self-reflection and meditation Swamp/Wetland Sand: mystery, secret keeping, silencing lies and rumors, binding, curses related to becoming lost or emotional heaviness, often represents both water and earth at once, often related to animal magic specifically those that live in swamp land Unearthed/Buried Sand: grounding, hidden power, addressing past issues and mistakes, overcoming controversy, self-discovery, introspection, emotional healing, moving on from past scars Biogenic Sand/Bone Sand/Shell Sand: healing, moving on emotionally, remembrance but letting go of the pain and loss, honoring those lost (often at or to the sea), close connections to necromancy Black Sand: protection, warding, banishing, relates to necromancy and spirit work Pink Sand: love, beauty, youth, harmony, adjusting to change, remembering the past and lost loved ones, rebirth, emotional and mental healing, forgiveness of self and others Red Sand: strength, courage, valor, relates to fire rather than earth Yellow Sand: divination, focus, improving memory and skills, mental health, grounding and centering, represents both earth and air elements sometimes both at once White Sand: purity, cleansing, protection, wisdom, preparing for change, physical and emotional balance, harmonizes all aspects of oneself Combinations of Sand and Other Ingredients Sand and Soil: grounding, balance, cleansing, protection of loved ones and family Sand and Salt: change, growing power, dreams, purification, warding, protection, longevity Sand and Ash: remembrance, the past, divination Sand and Clay: change, mental fortitude Sand and Kelp/Seaweed: beauty, youth, birth, fertility, the ocean image Originally posted by estpdra-thethirdeye

The History Not much history on the use of sand in magic from what I can find that is a reliable source, but I was able to find some bits about its use.

Sand has been used in connections to rituals for the dead and in burial practices in many different cultures to a varying degree. In some sand was used for burying the deceased such as very early Ancient Egypt for its mummification properties before better mummification methods were invented and utilized. Placing sand into graves or coffins of the deceased somethings as a means to connect them to their homelands if that person was traveling into foreign lands or countries. Some stories speak about mixing the ashes of the dead with sand to be kept in the home. Other stories tell of people mixes ashes from fires or the hearth with sand and casting it out into the sea for lost sailors who could not be brought home.

Sand was also used historical in some types of spell jars and vessels. In some places sand was put into jars and bottles and given to sailors to keep them connected to home even when sailing. Others said carrying sand could protect one from being lost at sea or from disaster, likely where the history of sand being used for protection properties came from. It has also been used in witch’s bottles and for burying spells for varying purposes. Some cultures would bury offerings to deities into the sand of beaches or deserts.

Modern Use Sand is still a common ingredient for many sea witches and worshipers of ocean related deities to utilize in their craft and in their altars. Deities commonly related to sand are Poseidon, Aphrodite, Psamathe, Thalassa, Aegir, Neptune and Veles. Sand is also often used in altars to represent either earth or water when representing the cardinal directions or the 4 elements. Some will use sand to represent both in cases of smaller altars.

Modernly, sand is often used in spell jars and bottles when used in spellwork or as a vessel to charge, cleanse and bury objects or tools such as crystals, poppets, amulets and trinkets. Sea witches or witches with accesses to large amount of sand will often use it for grounding and circle casting. Some will use it for runes and sigils as well.

Storing Sand For those wishing to store and use collected sand ensure that there is nothing undesirable in it - garbage, sharp bits of glass, decomposing fish or animals, insects etc. Shift it thoroughly to ensure anything that could be potentially dangerous is removed and if needed properly disposed of. Once the sand has been shifted ensure it is dry before you seal it into anything.

Wet sand can house bacteria and mold - which can also smell quite foul when the container is opened again. You can use the sun to dry it or indoor heaters at a safe distance. Spread it out thin and flat to help ensure it is thoroughly dried if it is damp or wet.

Once dried the best way to store sand is inside of glass or ceramic vessels. Jars and bottles are the most ideal. Ensure that they are sealed tightly to ensure no spillage or condensation can get inside.

[lindsohalloran]

general information.

full name lindsay amos o’halloran

nicknames linds / uncle linds ( only by maisie )

age 41

date of birth may 1

place of birth elderslie, scotland

zodiac taurus sun cancer moon virgo rising

gender cis male

nationality scottish

religion raised catholic / non-practicing

orientation homosexual

physical attributes.

face claim richard madden

voice claim richard madden

height 5’10

weight 176 lbs

build athletic / muscular

exercise habits whenever possible but mostly circumstantial

allergies cats + nickel + medical adhesive

hair color dark copper with faint grey + a mallen streak at his hairline

hairstyle short

eye color blue

glasses/contacts no

dominant hand right

tattoos a small black orchid on his inner left bicep

scars too many to count

piercings none

jewelry/accessories garmin instinct 2x solar watch + dog tags

background information.

hometown elderslie, scotland

current residence new york, ny

spoken languages english / gaelic / spanish / belizean creole / igbo / hausa / yaruba / a few other languages very minimally

driver's license yes

occupation private security / previously scottish royal regiment

familial information.

relationship status single

mother eilidh o’halloran ( nee buchanan ) 

father graeme o’halloran 

siblings niamh o’halloran / sister + deceased

other maisie o’halloran / niece and current ward

children none

pets none

personality.

positive traits steadfast + astute + observant + loyal + selfless

negative traits guarded + overbearing + distrustful + suspicious

likes  earl grey + cutobrute + air-dried laundry + live music + runner’s highs

dislikes disorganization + rainy weather + selfishness + coffee + sunburn

moral alignment lawful good

mbti entj

Lindsay has always been private, especially when it comes to matters of his personal life, and the outbreak has only seemed to amplify this about him. In his prime, he was a skilled leader and communicator; his nearly two decades spent in service with the Scottish Royal Regiment have left him vigilant and selfless, always at the ready to keep a sharp out for the sake of those close to him, whether friends, family, or battalion. Professionally, he had a sternness about him that was not unkind, often softened by a quiet charisma and sudden and unexpected bouts of dry humor, and own his own time, he lived a life surrounded by vibrancy, more an observer than a participant. He’d frequent bustling bars and cafes and music venues, existing as a stoic fixture in the background, enjoying and observing with a simple smile twitching at his lips. He doesn’t take time for the simple pleasures anymore, and those glimpses of humor, of the lighthearted man he could have been, they’re rarer now than they ever have been.

supplies.

95-ltr. capacity tactical backpack / rucksack

first aid kit ( nearly empty )

two stainless steel water bottles

water purification tablets

utility knife / swiss army multi-tool

solar powered flashlight / power bank

hand-crank emergency radio

lighter / magnesium fire starter

signal mirror

tarp / rope

a children's sleeping bag

small plush rabbit

glock 17 + ammunition

machete + thigh holster

biography.

tw: brief mention of homophobia + abuse + drug use + death

From the outside looking in, the O’Halloran household is almost picturesque; with a modest but lovely two-story in the heart of Elderslie and two children, a son and a daughter, it would appear that Graeme and Eilidh have it all! Graeme has a government job that provides well enough that Eilidh can stay home and mind the house and the children. Lindsay Amos O’Halloran is younger than his sister Niamh by two years, but the pair are incredibly close; their father is strict — they’re mindful of their manners, their marks in school, for fear of his reaction if they don’t — and their mother is … well, Lindsay suspects she hasn’t been in her right mind in years. ❛ The pills will do that, ❜ Niamh tells him, ❛ numb you right up. ❜ She tells him this is why their mother never says anything. Lindsay expects all children must live like this — quiet, obedient. They protect each other, Lindsay and Niamh — best they can, at least. He walks her to class, she helps him with his coursework, and then they hide away in her bedroom and make up stories, elaborate tales of all the places they’ll go once they only get out of Elderslie.

To his credit, Lindsay does well to appease his father and keep relative peace in the house for many years. He learns when to mind his tongue, how to behave. If he yearns for approval, he quickly learns what it feels like to go without. Praise comes in the form of a quiet night — no shouting, no dishes thrown. He is careful to make no mistake significant enough to not be forgotten after his father’s spent a few long nights at the pub. Not until he turns fifteen. All his life, he’s been keeping it a secret; from his parents, his sister … sometimes it almost felt like he was keeping it from himself. For a while, it isn’t hard to keep it locked away; between school, church, and chores, he doesn’t have time for sinful thoughts. He can almost pretend …

His world ends on a brisk September afternoon at nearly three p.m. He’s sitting on his bed with Colin Bigbie from trigonometry, trying desperately to figure out how to calculate angles. And Colin’s tutoring him, which should be helping. It should, but Colin’s sitting so close Lindsay can smell his spearmint gum and he can’t stop looking at his lips, the way he grins around the eraser of a pencil. He still remembers the way his mother shrieks when she opens his bedroom door to find her son pinned under another boy in his own bed, a tangle of lips and limbs. ( How could he have let himself get carried away? How could he have let himself get caught? ) Colin has the common sense to scramble out of the house long before his father comes home. Lindsay is not so lucky. He has nowhere else to go.

Only a few months shy of his sixteenth birthday, Lindsay enlists in the Royal Regiment of Scotland. His mother nearly worries herself into an ulcer over the idea alone, but his father is supportive. Thinks it’s a ❛ wise move, ❜ in fact, that Lindsay could use the structure. She weeps over afternoon tea the day he brings home the forms, cannot even bear to look her husband in the eye as he fills them out. The more unpalatable truth need not be said aloud, for Lindsay already knows it in his heart — as far as Graeme O’Halloran is concerned, he no longer has a son, not in the eyes of God. Perhaps if he leaves now … learns what it means to really be a man, to bring his family respect in lieu of shame, of disappointment … well, perhaps he might return home to more welcoming arms.

This, Lindsay thinks as he packs a sparse duffel the night before he leaves for phase one training, that’s what he wants out of enlisting. He wants to feel like he belongs again. ( Has he ever? Has his father ever actually been proud? ) ❛ No but for christ’s sake, fuck ‘em all, Linds! Honestly! It’s all a bunch a’ shite, and anyway, you’ll always belong here with me,❜ comes a tearful reassurance from his sister over a shared rooftop cigarette the very same night, a possible last ditch effort at convincing him to stay. It doesn’t work! His mind is made up, and when she pinky swears that she gets it, that she understands and she could never hold it against him, Lindsay believes her. He cries when she hugs him goodbye the following morning. In spite of his best efforts, he cannot hide red eyes and mottled cheeks from his father as he climbs into the car. He says nothing, but Lindsay can feel his gaze; he cannot bring himself to meet it for the entirety of the six hour drive from Elderslie to Berkshire.

The Royal Military Academy Sandhurst provides twelve months of intensive training to all prospective young officers. Lindsay is desperate to succeed because, in his mind, there is no other option. He learns to operate on a strict schedule and quickly becomes regimented, disciplined. But Lindsay does not socialize with the other young men in his barracks. Many of them are quick to make friends — he sees them being raucous in the mess hall, hears them slagging off their superiors when they’re out of earshot — but Lindsay always keeps to himself. He never joins in. In his spare time, Lindsay pens letters. They’re mostly to Niamh. He tells her of his successes, embellishes his happiness in neat lines signed with love. The letters he receives back are the highlight of his time at the academy — they keep him going. Occasionally, he’ll write to his mother and father; to those letters, he hears nothing in return. his mother takes his phone calls on holidays — he expects that’s the only grace his father allows — but beyond that, they make no effort toward significant contact.

At least not until he graduates. They all show up, all three of them, but make no mistake it is not a grand affair. He knows from his sister’s letters things have not grown better in his absence but worse; his father’s temper flares and without Lindsay there to take the heat, his mother and sister suffer in his place. At dinner that evening, Niamh announces her plans to move overseas. She’s nearly twenty now, and after all, they’ve got relatives in America, distant cousins in New York, and she intends to relocate with their help. Her news doesn’t go over well; their father shouts, their mother wails, and when they leave, it is with the assurance that the entire lot of them are banned from what was Lindsay’s favorite Italian place in Berkshire for life. In the end, it doesn’t actually matter though, does it? He’s leaving again anyway.

Lindsay returns home for two weeks while he awaits his assignment. He helps Niamh pack and does his best to avoid conflict with their parents. When she leaves for New York, Lindsay is the one who takes the family car to drive her to the airport. ( He finds out that day that maybe he doesn’t know how to say goodbye to his sister without crying. Once can be written off as a fluke, but twice? ) He doesn’t know what to expect when he receives the call specifying the location of his first tour, but Lindsay can be certain that Belize does not even make the list. He didn’t even know they had anyone stationed in Belize. ( If he’s being honest, before he knows he’s going, Lindsay couldn’t have confidently pointed the country out on a map. ) Within seventy-two hours, he’s on a plane. Unlike with Niamh, when his parents leave him at the terminal, Lindsay sheds not a single tear. On the flight, he thinks of this mother’s outpouring of emotion and wonders if it’s sincere. Does she mourn the loss of both her children?

The stifling heat of the South American sun — surely impossibly the same sun that casts clouds over his village back home — fries pale, freckled skin within hours of landing, but Lindsay quickly learns that he enjoys the pain. It provides a welcome distraction. A lucky break, it would seem, because it is found here in no short supply. Tropical Environment Training, it’s called. Or, how to fight in the jungle! From dawn to dusk, he and his battalion trudge through gnarled, swampy undergrowth; they learn to camouflage themselves in the wild, how to use nature and the elements to their advantage. He learns to blink past the burn of sweat in his eyes, to claw his way forward when his limbs threaten to give out. His limits? Clearly he’s been underestimating them all his life! Out here in the harsh wild, nobody cares about his story, where he came from. Nobody cares who he loves. They only care that he can perform. Endure. It matters not who he is, only what he is capable of.

Belize teaches Lindsay O’Halloran that he is a very capable man.

When he first enlisted, it was without a clear, intentional path in mind; he’d known then that he wanted to serve his country, but he hadn’t the foggiest what he could even offer. would he be sent to kitchen duty or put on the frontlines? Were there even front lines? Six months after arriving in Belize, Lindsay completes his training. He’s adapted extraordinarily well to the environment; his superiors watch as he takes lead of his battalion, seizes control to lead his brothers- and sisters-in-arms to safety. He watches his team with the fierceness and precision of a hawk. When his entire battalion completes the program with flying colors, Lindsay is asked to remain in Belize. For someone so young, he displays potential. For the next ten years, Ladyville becomes his new home. He immerses himself in its culture just as much as its jungles; his accent twists the words in a funny sort of way, but he learns to speak spanish and Belizean creole. He drinks belikin and shares panades with locals. He becomes familiar with the forestry, teaches it to hundreds. And he writes to Niamh about all of it.

One day, when she writes back, Lindsay learns he’s an uncle. When his tour ends, he hops on the first plane he can catch to New York so he can meet his niece. Her name is Maisie O’Halloran and Lindsay is convinced he falls in love the second he holds her in his arms. He spends several weeks in the states with Niamh; he sleeps on her couch and spends day in and day out with her to make up for all the time they’ve lost. She tells him Maisie’s father isn’t in the picture, and Lindsay makes her pinky swear that she’s safe, that she’s okay. He wishes he could stay, but he’s given another assignment far too quickly. He tells himself he won’t cry this time when Niamh and Maisie leave him at the terminal, that he can keep it together. He can’t, and they’re both laughing through their tears as she makes him promise they’ll meet here again in a few years and he relents on one condition: she sends him weekly updates on Maisie in the meantime.

When he lands again, Lindsay is in Nigeria. He has been assigned to the UK’s permanent outpost Abuja to aid in the training of the Nigerian military. What he lacks in knowledge about the country and terrain, he makes up for in a passion for the sharing of knowledge, of valuable, life-saving skills. Hausa and Yaruba are more difficult to learn than spanish, he’ll admit, but he spends enough time there that he becomes at very least conversational in a few different local languages. When he returns to Elderslie after another six years, he does not sound the same and the streets no longer look like home. His country beckons him back before he can visit Niamh, but he promises soon. He still writes every chance he gets; she convinces him to start video calling because Maisie is talking more than ever. His parents don’t see their only grandchild, don’t get the privilege. He visits them once while he’s back on home soil. Once in two years. It’s tense. His mother doesn’t recognize him. His father shakes his hand.

It takes fifteen years, but Lindsay can finally feel the weakness in his grip.

Time slips through his fingers faster than Lindsay can stop it and before he knows it, the year is 2023. He’s back in Berkshire and, as it turns out, that little Italian restaurant? They don’t even remember him anymore. Lindsay is in his flat when he receives a phone call from an unrecognized number. It’s his cousins from New York, bearing news of his sister. Grave news. He can barely make out the details over the ringing in his ears the moment he realizes what they’re trying to say. ❛ …it was a break in … she’d just gotten back from work … didn’t even know she’d been struck …’m so sorry … ❜ And just like that, Lindsay O’Halloran’s whole world shatters.

By some grace of God, Maisie isn’t home when it happens. Their cousin had been watching her while Niamh was on shift, had just gone to take her back and opened the door when … ( oh, she saw it, the poor girl saw it! ) Lindsay requests immediate discharge and his years of dedicated service allow him to catch the next flight out of Heathrow to New York. He has to begin making arrangements. It takes six days to find a flat in the city and get Ellie moved into it; with his cousin minding her for a few hours, he packs up his sister’s apartment in a single night. Delicately, he tucks away years of memories into boxes — some he’s seen, many he’s missed out on. He does this alone, and he realizes a truth he’s known his entire life. He will always cry when he says goodbye to his sister. This night is no different. He weeps openly on the floor at the center of her apartment, surrounded by sweaters and pillows and photos — he cries for every little piece of her that he is forced to say goodbye to. His grief echoes off the walls. He gives so much that by the time they bury Niamh, Lindsay has no tears left to shed. He is exhausted. And for this, he is grateful. It allows him the ability to stay strong — he does not do well with emotion, but he knows how to push through fatigue. For Maisie, he will. From this day forward, his needs will forever take the back burner to hers. He is no father, but he will raise her the best he can. He owes as much to Niamh. 

To provide for them both, Lindsay secures a position at a private security company called Sentry Solutions. His extensive military and combat training make him the perfect fit for private security, and he finds that he approaches his new career with an inherent sort of dedication. Blame it on the guilt — he wasn’t there to protect his sister, couldn’t save her, but he’ll be damned if he can’t protect everybody else. Most of all, he intends to protect Maisie, to provide her with anything and everything she could ever possibly need and keep her safe. He wants to keep her happy, too, but he knows that’s a more difficult battle won. Though he could count the number of times he’d seen her face to face before moving to New York on one hand, they were hardly strangers; he used to call weekly at minimum to speak to her and her mum, often sent her gifts from Nigeria and then again from Berkshire. This does not make the process of familiarization any easier or less awkward, but Lindsay does his best and eventually, they fall into a routine. He learns what Frozen is and how to dutch braid hair. He wakes up early on Saturday mornings to make chocolate chip pancakes and commits the details of a traditional tea party menu to memory. Every Wednesday starts with a visit to Maisie’s grief counselor and always ends with gelato from the little Italian place on the corner of their block. After a few months, Lindsay starts to believe he can actually do this. That they both can.

And the moment Lindsay thinks he’s finally started to find his footing again, it’s as if the rug has been ripped from beneath his feet again. The world is ending. If it was dangerous to live in the city before, it begins to feel like a death sentence the moment he hears the news. He immediately begins formulating a plan. They need to get out of the city. The population is too dense, the layout of the city too labyrinthine to feel safe. He packs a bag and instructs Maisie to do the same. ❛ Only take what ye can carry, Mais, ❜ he says as if he’d not carry the moon on his back had she told him she wanted to take it along, ❛ only take what’s important. ❜ Her backpack is pink with faux-fur straps, stuffed with crayons and fruit snacks, plushes and photos of her mother; the matching sleeping bag is attached to his own rucksack. 

Lindsay expects it will take them some time to leave New York, but no amount of training or planning can prepare him for the chaos and bloodshed that ravage the streets. The streets are gridlocked but the cars are abandoned, some with windows smashed or doors left wide open. Driving out of the city is an impossibility, and every sidewalk, every building is like an active war zone. To think he'd been worried about the barricades. Moving through the city is slow. Every new street, every building promises new threats; if it's not the undead, it's the living trying to ransack them for supplies. Desperate people. Lindsay tries not to fault them ― fear can make people do all sorts of irrational things. He knows this. But if Maisie's safety is threatened, Lindsay does not hesitate to exterminate said threat, living or otherwise.

Distances Lindsay expects might take hours to cover instead take days. Weeks, even. Maisie is scared, confused, but she holds up better than he expects her to. He should've expected she'd be resilient like her mum. He keeps watch while she sleeps, operates on bare minimum and learns how to whittle his exhaustion into something functional and sharp under the cutting edge of adrenaline. He's never been in survival mode for this long. He thinks back to Belize, to the way the sun blistered his skin and the way his muscles screamed for mercy. He'd been able to push through it then for family who didn't give a damn about him, and he'll dig his heels in and survive this too. For Maisie.

When the snowstorm hits, they take shelter in an elementary school. It appears as though it had been used at some point in the recent past as a makeshift shelter, but aside from the biters that Lindsay methodically removes, it has been thoroughly abandoned. ( Some of the ones Lindsay exterminates, they look fresh. He does well not to dwell on this. ) The winter is long and cold and grueling but they survive. Lindsay is careful to ration what food he can scavenge from the cafeteria and, by some grace of God, it's enough to last the pair of them through the coldest months. He's grateful for the sense of familiarity the location provides Maisie; there are books and toys in the classrooms to keep her entertained and enriched. She has the chance to be a child and Lindsay finally has the chance to rest. At least for a little while. Come spring, they'll be getting out of this city.

Lindsay thinks so, anyway, but he's beginning to realize that what they say about the best laid plans of mice and men might actually be true. Maisie falls ill sometime in late February. It's not that he hasn't been keeping track of the passage of days, either, only that he doesn't know for sure when it actually begins. Her sniffles are easy enough to write off as a symptom of the colder weather, of course, but the cough is admittedly concerning. She seems unfazed, so he keeps an eye on it for a few days and intends to wait for it to resolve itself. Only it doesn't resolve itself. Maisie gets worse.

When the fever appears, Lindsay can no longer deny his concern or the way it steadily seems to morph into panic. He's never dealt with this before. He's only been responsible for her less than a year. There are no useful medications to be found in the nurse's office, nothing more than old antihistamines and cough drops in the desks. He's not familiar with this part of the city, and even after scoping from the rooftop, there's not a pharmacy in sight, not that he can tell. It isn't as if he can leave her, either, to go looking further, or even take her along in this condition, out of fear he'll come up empty-handed and make her feel worse in the process. But he's been surveilling the area, watching. He's seen survivors at the Wexley, coming and going. They must have supplies. It's a short enough distance that he could run it from the school even with his pack on his back and her in his arms, and, with no other options, that's precisely what Lindsay does.