#Home water conditioning systems

[mattywritess]

Everything You Need to Know About Home Water Conditioning Systems

If you're a homeowner, you know how important it is to have clean and safe water for you and your family. But did you know that the water coming out of your faucet may not be as clean as you think? This is where home water conditioning systems come in. In this blog post, we will discuss what home water conditioning systems are, how they work, and why they are important for every household.

What are Home Water Conditioning Systems?

Home water conditioning systems, also known as water softeners, are devices that treat the water in your home to make it safer and more functional. These systems are designed to remove impurities, such as minerals and contaminants, from the water so that it is suitable for consumption and household use. They can be installed at the point of entry, where the water enters your home, or at the point of use, such as under the sink.

How Do Home Water Conditioning Systems Work?

Home water conditioning systems use a process called ion exchange to soften the water. This process involves replacing the calcium and magnesium ions, which are responsible for making water hard, with sodium ions. The system consists of a tank filled with resin beads that are coated with sodium ions. When the hard water flows through the tank, the calcium and magnesium ions attach to the resin beads, and the sodium ions are released into the water, making it soft.

The Importance of Home Water Conditioning Systems

Having a home water conditioning system offers numerous benefits for you and your household. Here are some of the key reasons why you should consider installing one in your home:

Cleaner and Safer Water: Home water conditioning systems remove impurities and contaminants, making your water cleaner and safer for consumption. This is especially important if you have young children or elderly family members who are more vulnerable to waterborne diseases.

Protects Your Plumbing and Appliances: Hard water can cause damage to your plumbing and appliances, leading to costly repairs and replacements. By softening the water, home water conditioning systems can extend the lifespan of your pipes and appliances, saving you money in the long run.

Improves the Taste of Water: Hard water can have a metallic or bitter taste, which can be unappealing. With a home water conditioning system, you can enjoy clean and fresh-tasting water that is free from any unpleasant odors or flavors.

Reduces Soap and Detergent Usage: Hard water can make it difficult for soap and detergents to lather, meaning you may end up using more products to get the job done. With soft water, you can use less soap and detergent, saving you money on household cleaning supplies.

Choosing the Right Home Water Conditioning System

When it comes to choosing a home water conditioning system, there are a few things you should consider:

Water Hardness: Before purchasing a system, it's important to know the level of hardness in your water. You can either do a DIY test or have your water tested by a professional. This will help you determine the size and type of system you need.

Size and Capacity: The size and capacity of the system will depend on the size of your household and your water usage. A larger household with higher water usage will require a bigger system.

Regeneration Cycle: Home water conditioning systems need to be periodically recharged to remove the accumulated minerals from the resin beads. The regeneration cycle can be based on either time or water usage, so choose one that best fits your needs.

Quality and Warranty: Ensure that the system you choose is of good quality and comes with a warranty. This will give you peace of mind and protection in case of any issues with the system.

Contact Rainsoft A & B Marketing

Home water conditioning systems are a vital addition to any household. They not only provide clean and safe water for consumption and household use but also protect your plumbing and appliances, improve the taste of your water, and save you money in the long run. If you're interested in installing a home water conditioning system, contact Rainsoft A & B Marketing at (904) 440-1438 for more information.

[emergencyplumbingil]

Why you need to keep main line shut off valve in working condition ?

To prevent plumbing disasters and ensure your home is protected while you’re away, it’s crucial to keep your main water line valve in good working condition.

Before you leave, consider the story of the Johnson family, who learned this lesson the hard way. They were excited for their two-week cruise, dreaming of sunsets and relaxation. However, they didn’t close their main shut-off valve before they left. During their vacation, a small leak in their water heater turned into a burst pipe, which ultimately led to a significant flood in their basement. When they returned, they faced extensive water damage and costly repairs. By closing the main shut-off valve before your departure, you can avoid such plumbing disasters.

Shutting off the main valve stops the flow of water into your home, effectively preventing leaks, bursts, or floods from causing damage. This simple action ensures that if any part of your plumbing system were to fail, there would be no water supply to fuel it.

Additionally, for long vacations, draining the water from your water heater can add another layer of protection. This step prevents potential issues related to freezing temperatures or slow leaks, further reducing the risk of water damage. So, as you finalize your vacation plans, take a moment to safeguard your home. Close the main shut-off valve to protect against leaks and bursts. This small precaution will help ensure you return to a home that's as carefree as your time away.

Phone 224-754-1984

[chronicbitchsyndrome]

so: masking: good, unequivocally. please mask and please educate others on why they should mask to make the world safer for immune compromised people to participate in.

however: masking is not my policy focus and it shouldn't be yours, either. masking is a very good mitigation against droplet-born illnesses and a slightly less effective (but still very good) mitigation against airborne illnesses, but its place in the pyramid of mitigation demands is pretty low, for several reasons:

it's an individual mitigation, not a systemic one. the best mitigations to make public life more accessible affect everyone without distributing the majority of the effort among individuals (who may not be able to comply, may not have access to education on how to comply, or may be actively malicious).

it's a post-hoc mitigation, or to put it another way, it's a band-aid over the underlying problem. even if it was possible to enforce, universal masking still wouldn't address the underlying problem that it is dangerous for sick people and immune compromised people to be in the same public locations to begin with. this is a solvable problem! we have created the societal conditions for this problem!

here are my policy focuses:

upgraded air filtration and ventilation systems for all public buildings. appropriate ventilation should be just as bog-standard as appropriately clean running water. an indoor venue without a ventilation system capable of performing 5 complete air changes per hour should be like encountering a public restroom without any sinks or hand sanitizer stations whatsoever.

enforced paid sick leave for all employees until 3-5 days without symptoms. the vast majority of respiratory and food-borne illnesses circulate through industry sectors where employees come into work while experiencing symptoms. a taco bell worker should never be making food while experiencing strep throat symptoms, even without a strep diagnosis.

enforced virtual schooling options for sick students. the other vast majority of respiratory and food-borne illnesses circulate through schools. the proximity of so many kids and teenagers together indoors (with little to no proper ventilation and high levels of physical activity) means that if even one person comes to school sick, hundreds will be infected in the following few days. those students will most likely infect their parents as well. allowing students to complete all readings and coursework through sites like blackboard or compass while sick will cut down massively on disease transmission.

accessible testing for everyone. not just for COVID; if there's a test for any contagious illness capable of being performed outside of lab conditions, there should be a regulated option for performing that test at home (similar to COVID rapid tests). if a test can only be performed under lab conditions, there should be a government-subsidized program to provide free of charge testing to anyone who needs it, through urgent cares and pharmacies.

the last thing to note is that these things stack; upgraded ventilation systems in all public buildings mean that students and employees get sick less often to begin with, making it less burdensome for students and employees to be absent due to sickness, and making it more likely that sick individuals will choose to stay home themselves (since it's not so costly for them).

masking is great! keep masking! please use masking as a rhetorical "this is what we can do as individuals to make public life safer while we're pushing for drastic policy changes," and don't get complacent in either direction--don't assume that masking is all you need to do or an acceptable forever-solution, and equally, don't fall prey to thinking that pushing for policy change "makes up" for not masking in public. it's not a game with scores and sides; masking is a material thing you can do to help the individual people you interact with one by one, and policy changes are what's going to make the entirety of public life safer for all immune compromised people.

[soon-palestine]

In a statement that was shared with The Nation, a group of 25 HLR editors expressed their concerns about the decision. “At a time when the Law Review was facing a public intimidation and harassment campaign, the journal’s leadership intervened to stop publication,” they wrote. “The body of editors—none of whom are Palestinian—voted to sustain that decision. We are unaware of any other solicited piece that has been revoked by the Law Review in this way. “ When asked for comment, the leadership of the Harvard Law Review referred The Nation to a message posted on the journal’s website. “Like every academic journal, the Harvard Law Review has rigorous editorial processes governing how it solicits, evaluates, and determines when and whether to publish a piece…” the note began. ”Last week, the full body met and deliberated over whether to publish a particular Blog piece that had been solicited by two editors. A substantial majority voted not to proceed with publication.” Today, The Nation is sharing the piece that the Harvard Law Review refused to run. Some may claim that the invocation of genocide, especially in Gaza, is fraught. But does one have to wait for a genocide to be successfully completed to name it? This logic contributes to the politics of denial. When it comes to Gaza, there is a sense of moral hypocrisy that undergirds Western epistemological approaches, one which mutes the ability to name the violence inflicted upon Palestinians. But naming injustice is crucial to claiming justice. If the international community takes its crimes seriously, then the discussion about the unfolding genocide in Gaza is not a matter of mere semantics. The UN Genocide Convention defines the crime of genocide as certain acts “committed with the intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group, as such.” These acts include “killing members of a protected group” or “causing serious bodily or mental harm” or “deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part.” Numerous statements made by top Israeli politicians affirm their intentions. There is a forming consensus among leading scholars in the field of genocide studies that “these statements could easily be construed as indicating a genocidal intent,” as Omer Bartov, an authority in the field, writes. More importantly, genocide is the material reality of Palestinians in Gaza: an entrapped, displaced, starved, water-deprived population of 2.3 million facing massive bombardments and a carnage in one of the most densely populated areas in the world. Over 11,000 people have already been killed. That is one person out of every 200 people in Gaza. Tens of thousands are injured, and over 45% of homes in Gaza have been destroyed. The United Nations Secretary General said that Gaza is becoming a “graveyard for children,” but a cessation of the carnage—a ceasefire—remains elusive. Israel continues to blatantly violate international law: dropping white phosphorus from the sky, dispersing death in all directions, shedding blood, shelling neighborhoods, striking schools, hospitals, and universities, bombing churches and mosques, wiping out families, and ethnically cleansing an entire region in both callous and systemic manner. What do you call this? The Center for Constitutional Rights issued a thorough, 44-page, factual and legal analysis, asserting that “there is a plausible and credible case that Israel is committing genocide against the Palestinian population in Gaza.” Raz Segal, a historian of the Holocaust and genocide studies, calls the situation in Gaza “a textbook case of Genocide unfolding in front of our eyes.”

[northgazaupdates]

Ibtisam Al-Habil is a single mother of 6 children who is facing multiple crises. In 2014, her husband was killed by the occupation during its assault. She and her oldest son Omar found work to support their family.

They were doing well until the occupation’s 2023 invasion. Their home was destroyed, along with their entire neighborhood. Ibtisam lost her job and her children lost their education. They were displaced to multiple shelters, at one point narrowly surviving an IOF bomb attack on a school.

Ibtisam’s daughter Nour suffers from Congenital Heart Disease, a serious medical condition which has left her immunocompromised, and she requires frequent hospital visits. Receiving the care Nour needs to survive has become ever more difficult, dangerous, and expensive. Further, centers are overcrowded, and the IOF’s sabotage of Gaza’s water and waste treatment systems have made them into centers of disease transmission. For Nour, this could be deadly. She is frequently sick now, compounding her prior condition.

Ibtisam’s oldest son Omar, a nurse who recently married and was expecting a baby with his wife Bashaer, was helping support the family however he could. Tragically, Omar was martyred by occupation bombing several months ago while looking for firewood. His younger brother was seriously injured in the same attack. Omar never got to meet his baby girl.

Ibtisam’s family is now completely without income, displaced, and constantly running for their lives. Nour remains ill, and finding the medical care she needs gets harder every day.

Originally Ibtisam was raising funds to evacuate her family to Egypt. This is probably still the plan for the future, but for right now, Ibtisam and her family desperately need funds to survive. Donations will be used to procure food, water, medical care, and shelter for the foreseeable future.

This family has suffered so terribly already. Please help give them a little hope for the future. Please reblog this post, boost Ibtisam’s posts on her blog, and repost the campaign link across all your social media.

Thank you

Verified by el-shab-Hussein and nabulsi as #240 on their list of verified fundraisers

[schistostegapennata]

can you talk about moss poaching i'm actually really curious

How can I refuse! Absolutely!!! It sounds kind of ridiculous, but it's actually very sad.

So, let's start off with some numbers. Every year, the moss black market is estimated to garner up to $165 million for trafficking approximately 82 million pounds of moss.

I cannot even wrap my mind around how much moss that is.

You might ask, why does moss poaching exist and why is it so lucrative? Well, the quality that has made mosses the prey of an illegal trade is simply their aesthetic appeal. Soft, velvety, and moist, mosses are extremely pleasant to the touch and calming to look at. Some people are willing to pay large amounts of money to collect them and put them in private gardens. However, most of the mosses that move in this underground black market are actually sold to companies/wholesalers for use in potting/gardening soil, plant nurseries, decor, and as craft materials. The majority of the preserved mosses in your run-of-the-mill chain craft store, planters, floral wreaths, or very-much-dead living wall decorations are gathered illegally, bleached to death, and then dyed green. This goes for a lot of prepackaged peat moss and soil mix blends as well.

Even though it is illegal to gather moss in public places (in the US, at least), people still harvest it. Why? Probably because there's a fair amount of money to be made and the consequences are very rarely enforced, and when they are, they are quite light--usually a $50 fine at worst if you're caught. Most of this black market moss is actually poached from the national park system, with Appalachia and the Pacific Northwest usually being the hardest hit regions.

Mosses play vital roles in many ecosystems, provide homes for threatened species, regulate water distribution in forests, and help with erosion, so their loss is a terrible blow. Additionally, moving such large quantities of mosses from one location to another may spread unwanted, invasive hitchhikers, like insects that lay their eggs in the plants, or even seeds and spores.

I'll end on this thought:

It can take 20 years for a small patch of moss removed from a fallen tree to grow back with the right moisture conditions.

How long would it take to regrow 82 million pounds?

[dandelionsresilience]

Good News - July 22-28

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my new(ly repurposed) Patreon!

1. Four new cheetah cubs born in Saudi Arabia after 40 years of extinction

“[T]he discovery of mummified cheetahs in caves […] which ranged in age from 4,000 to as recent as 120 years, proved that the animals […] once called [Saudi Arabia] home. The realisation kick-started the country’s Cheetah Conservation Program to bring back the cats to their historic Arabian range. […] Dr Mohammed Qurban, CEO of the NCW, said: […] “This motivates us to continue our efforts to restore and reintroduce cheetahs, guided by an integrated strategy designed in accordance with best international practices.””

2. In sub-Saharan Africa, ‘forgotten’ foods could boost climate resilience, nutrition

“[A study published in PNAS] examined “forgotten” crops that may help make sub-Saharan food systems more resilient, and more nutritious, as climate change makes it harder to grow [current staple crops.] [… The study identified 138 indigenous] food crops that were “relatively underresearched, underutilized, or underpromoted in an African context,” but which have the nutrient content and growing stability to support healthy diets and local economies in the region. […] In Eswatini, van Zonneveld and the World Vegetable Center are working with schools to introduce hardy, underutilized vegetables to their gardens, which have typically only grown beans and maize.”

3. Here's how $4 billion in government money is being spent to reduce climate pollution

“[New Orleans was awarded] nearly $50 million to help pay for installing solar on low to middle income homes [… and] plans to green up underserved areas with trees and build out its lackluster bike lane system to provide an alternative to cars. […] In Utah, $75 million will fund several measures from expanding electric vehicles to reducing methane emissions from oil and gas production. [… A] coalition of states led by North Carolina will look to store carbon in lands used for agriculture as well as natural places like wetlands, with more than $400 million. [… This funding is] “providing investments in communities, new jobs, cost savings for everyday Americans, improved air quality, … better health outcomes.””

4. From doom scrolling to hope scrolling: this week’s big Democratic vibe shift

“[Democrats] have been on an emotional rollercoaster for the past few weeks: from grim determination as Biden fought to hang on to his push for a second term, to outright exuberance after he stepped aside and Harris launched her campaign. […] In less than a week, the Harris campaign raised record-breaking sums and signed up more than 100,000 new volunteers[….] This honeymoon phase will end, said Democratic strategist Guy Cecil, warning the election will be a close race, despite this newfound exuberance in his party. [… But v]oters are saying they are excited to vote for Harris and not just against Trump. That’s new.”

5. Biodegradable luminescent polymers show promise for reducing electronic waste

“[A team of scientists discovered that a certain] chemical enables the recycling of [luminescent polymers] while maintaining high light-emitting functions. […] At the end of life, this new polymer can be degraded under either mild acidic conditions (near the pH of stomach acid) or relatively low heat treatment (> 410 F). The resulting materials can be isolated and remade into new materials for future applications. […] The researchers predict this new polymer can be applied to existing technologies, such as displays and medical imaging, and enable new applications […] such as cell phones and computer screens with continued testing.”

6. World’s Biggest Dam Removal Project to Open 420 Miles of Salmon Habitat this Fall

“Reconnecting the river will help salmon and steelhead populations survive a warming climate and [natural disasters….] In the long term, dam removal will significantly improve water quality in the Klamath. “Algae problems in the reservoirs behind the dams were so bad that the water was dangerous for contact […] and not drinkable,” says Fluvial Geomorphologist Brian Cluer. [… The project] will begin to reverse decades of habitat degradation, allow threatened salmon species to be resilient in the face of climate change, and restore tribal connections to their traditional food source.”

7. Biden-Harris Administration Awards $45.1 Million to Expand Mental Health and Substance Use Services Across the Lifespan

““Be it fostering wellness in young people, caring for the unhoused, facilitating treatment and more, this funding directly supports the needs of our neighbors,” said HHS Secretary Xavier Becerra. [The funding also supports] recovery and reentry services to adults in the criminal justice system who have a substance use disorder[… and clinics which] serve anyone who asks for help for mental health or substance use, regardless of their ability to pay.”

8. The World’s Rarest Crow Will Soon Fly Free on Maui

“[… In] the latest attempt to establish a wild crow population, biologists will investigate if this species can thrive on Maui, an island where it may have never lived before. Translocations outside of a species’ known historical range are rare in conservation work, but for a bird on the brink of extinction, it’s a necessary experiment: Scientists believe the crows will be safer from predators in a new locale—a main reason that past reintroduction attempts failed. […] As the release date approaches, the crows have already undergone extensive preparation for life in the wild. […] “We try to give them the respect that you would give if you were caring for someone’s elder.””

9. An optimist’s guide to the EV battery mining challenge

““Battery minerals have a tremendous benefit over oil, and that’s that you can reuse them.” [… T]he report’s authors found there’s evidence to suggest that [improvements in technology] and recycling have already helped limit demand for battery minerals in spite of this rapid growth — and that further improvements can reduce it even more. [… They] envision a scenario in which new mining for battery materials can basically stop by 2050, as battery recycling meets demand. In this fully realized circular battery economy, the world must extract a total of 125 million tons of battery minerals — a sum that, while hefty, is actually 17 times smaller than the oil currently harvested every year to fuel road transport.”

10. Peekaboo! A baby tree kangaroo debuts at the Bronx Zoo

“The tiny Matschie’s tree kangaroo […] was the third of its kind born at the Bronx Zoo since 2008. [… A] Bronx Zoo spokesperson said that the kangaroo's birth was significant for the network of zoos that aims to preserve genetic diversity among endangered animals. "It's a small population and because of that births are not very common," said Jessica Moody, curator of primates and small mammals at the Bronx Zoo[, …] adding that baby tree kangaroos are “possibly one of the cutest animals to have ever lived. They look like stuffed animals, it's amazing.””

July 15-21 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[inkskinned]

you have to go to work so you can pay for your doctor, who is not taking your insurance right now, and if you say i can't afford the doctor's you are told - get a better job. it is very sad that you are unwell, yes, but maybe you should have thought about that before not having a better job.

(where is the better job? who is giving out these better jobs? you are sick, you are hurting - how the hell are you supposed to be well enough for this better job?)

but you go to the doctor because you had the nerve to be hurt or sick or whatever else. and they tell you that it is because you have anxiety. you try your best. you are a self-advocate. you've done the reading (which sometimes pisses them off worse, honestly). you say it is actually adding to my anxiety, it is effecting my quality of life. so they say that you are fat. they say that all young people have this happen to them, isn't it a medical marvel! they say that you should eat more vegetables. they say that you probably just need to lose a little more weight, and that you are faking it for attention.

(what attention could this doctor possibly give? what validation? that's their fucking job, isn't it?)

there is always a hypochondriac, right. someone always tells you about a hypochondriac. or someone who is unnecessarily aggressive during the worst days of their life. or someone looking "for a quick fix". or some idiot who wasn't educated about how to properly care for themselves who just abandons their treatment. and again, the hypochondriac, the overly-cautious hysteric. these people don't deserve to be treated like humans (right), and since you might be one of these people, you also don't get treated like a human. because those people can really fuck with the system, you now have to pay for it. and besides. you're actually probably faking it.

(more often than not, you find a 2:1 ratio of these stories. for every "hypochondriac", there are 2 people who knew something was wrong, and yet nobody could fucking find it. the story often ends with pointless suffering. the story often ends with and now it's too late, and it's going to kill me.)

you are actually just making excuses. someone else got that procedure or that diagnosis and he's fine, you should be fine too. someone else said they watched a documentary about other inspirational people with your exact same condition, maybe you should be inspirational, too. you're just too morbid. your pain and your experience is probably just not statistically concerning. it is all self-reported anyway, and you're just being a baby.

(once, while sitting down in the middle of making coffee, you had the sudden, horrible thought - i could kill myself to make the pain stop. you had to call your best friend after that. had to pet your dog. had to cry about it in the shower. you won't, but that moment - god, fuck. the pain just goes on and on.)

you know someone who went in for routine surgery and said i still feel everything. they told her to just relax. it took her kicking and screaming before they figured out she wasn't lying - the anesthetic drip hadn't been working. you know someone who went in for severe migraines who was told drink water and lose weight. you know someone who was actively bleeding out and throwing up in the ER and was told you're just having a bad period.

in the ER there are always these little posters saying things like "don't wait! get checked today!" and you think about how often you do wait. how often the days spool out. you once waited a full week before seeing the doctor for what you thought was a sprained wrist. it had actually been broken - they had to rebreak it to set it.

but you go into the doctor. the problem you're having is immediate. the person behind the counter frowns and says we're not taking your insurance. you will be paying for this out-of-pocket.

they send you home with tylenol and a little health packet about weight loss or anxiety or attention deficit. on the front it has your birthday and diagnosis. you think about crying, and the words swim. it might as well say go fuck yourself. it might as well say you're a fucking idiot. it might as well say light your money on fire and lie down in it. and the entire fucking time - the problem persists.

it's okay. it's okay, it's just another thing, you think. it's just another thing i have to learn to live with.

[just-a-queer-fanboy]

Help Wafaa, Mohi, and Fidaa!

This is Mohi: the brother of @wafaaresh. Both of their gofundme's are hosted by a friend in Baltimore, and both accounts have been vetted. Mohi is only 23 and is currently suffering from malnutrition and hepatitis due to the current bombardment of Gaza. Their mother suffers from chronic illnesses that they cannot find treatment or urgently needed surgery for. They lack access to food and clean, drinkable water.

As I write this, not even a third of his goal of 31,000 dollars has been reached, and Wafaa's goal of 100,000 has a mere tenth raised. They both lost their home, a good chunk of their family, and have been displaced over 10 times.

The high in Gaza is nearly 90 Fahrenheit for the next week, with 70% humidity. There is no shade. There is no drinkable water. Aid is being blocked from entering.

This is Wafa's new gofundme.

Note: She had to make a new campaign after issues with the old one. There are barely any donations at the moment.

Wafa is 29 and reached out to me to ask me to boost her campaign, and since I cannot donate, I am making this post to promote both her and her brother's fundraisers.

They are both young adults who had so many ambitions and hopes before the attacks began. And there is still hope for them to escape live freely, like every human deserves to live.

If you are able to spare a few bucks, even a donation of 5 or 10 dollars helps. I hope this post finds people who are able to donate. Nobody deserves to live like this.

(I recently learned of their sister, Fidaa. I will continue editing this post if I find gofundme's for other family members, so people don't have to wade through a million different reblogs to find them.)

This is Fidaa @fidaa-family2 , she is Wafaa and Mohi's sister. She is 29 and a mother of 2: Sila, her 2 year old, and Muhammed Amr, who is only 2 months old. Imagine going through this trauma at 2 years old, imagine going through this at 2 months old. Imagine giving birth in these conditions, where the healthcare system has been so destroyed they cannot even count the dead. It's unimaginable for many of us, but for them, it is their daily life.

They live in Mawasi Khan Younis, South of Gaza. She and her children are malnourished and have little to no access to medicine, especially what is necessary post-partum, let alone necessary for a malnourished baby!

She has raised a little over a third of her 10,000 dollar goal.

If this post reaches enough people who can and do donate, their family can live freely. No bombs, no disease, no thirst, no hunger. Their children can grow up happily, the way all children should. And I do believe that it is possible.

Again, please donate if it is at all possible. No donation is too small, nor too big. Everything counts.

[thebibliosphere]

Joy I have to ask - what temperature do you think it is inside Wayne Manor?

Is it essentially outside temperature except where the fireplaces are? Does Alfred have a one man war against climate change? Is that why Bruce spends so much time in the basement?

Depending on which timeline you follow, Wayne Manor was built in the late 1800s. Having worked in giant historical homes, I'm telling you now it's a fucking pain in the ass to update the heating systems in those buildings. I know we've got comic book logic to contend with, and they've got massive generators in the basement to keep the cave running (sometimes it's turbines powered by the water flowing through the caves), but I also think it's plausible that to avoid damaging the historical facade of the building, you might walk around the house and see box fans shoved into the window frames during the summer because fuuuuck trying to install modern AC through 18th-century brickwork.

As for heat, well, for a frame of reference, the James J Hill house up here in MN—built roughly around the same time during the Gilded Age when the Waynes were pioneering industry in Gotham—was forced to rely on a boiler roughly the size of a steam engine to heat the house and used 250 tons of coal each year to keep it warm. That boiler provided hot water and ambient heat through steam radiators, but they also still had fireplaces in almost every room to try and compensate for the winter. The house was updated for modern heating and air conditioning within the last 40 years, but with a house that size and ceilings so tall, it's not particularly efficient. They still rely on box fans and space heaters to keep the space habitable during summer and winter.

New Jersey is not as far north as Minnesota, but the temperatures can still drop comparably low, especially when you factor in the seafront Gotham is on. So, while I do think they likely upgraded the heating systems at some point (they can't keep guzzling through coal like that), I also can't help but feel it's got to be cold as hell in that house unless they're being meticulous about lighting fires and airing every room out to prevent damp.

Because that's another thing. If you're not keeping your stone house warm, you risk damp and water damage, and I feel like Alfred would rather gnaw off his own arm than let Wayne Manor crumble to dust with black mold festering in the original French plaster.

So he's not so much fighting a one-man war against climate change as he's fighting a one-man war to keep the house dry. He's walking through rooms no one even uses, making sure the steam radiators are working and opening the windows a crack to let the condensation out.

Is he also turning off all the light switches as he goes? Yes. Is he always yelling, "Why is every screen in this house turned on if no one is using them?" also, yes.

Is Bruce also down in the cave huddled under an extra cape, overclocking the batcomputer to stay warm? Also a distinct possibility.

[kagrenacs]

Long awaited, here is the soil map of Skyrim using the Canadian System of Soil classification. Brief description of my conclusions under the cut:

Chernozem: Whiterun Hold is likely home to the majority of Skyrim’s Chernozems. The majority of biological carbon sequestering in grassland environments are below ground, within the root systems. Organic material- humus, builds up, causing the upper layers of the soil to take on a dark colour. Additionally, Solonetzic soils could be present, peppered throughout the hold if the parent material to the soil is salty enough.

Cryosols are formed in Skyrim’s far North and high alpine regions. The mean annual soil temperature being 0 degrees C, with permafrost conditions. Freeze-thaw cycles lead to permafrost at the soils surface, but also cryoturbation: soil movement arising from frost action.

Additionally in mountainous regions, you would find Regosols. Soils which develop on unstable landforms and have had little time to develop, such as mountain slopes, or river floodplains.

Gleysols occur across the landscape of Skyrim, but primarily in Hjaalmarch. Gleysols are commonly found in depressions or low-lying areas where water saturates the soil continuously, leading to a molted characteristic to the soil.

Organic soils would primarily be found in the water saturated soils of Hjaalmarch. These are wetland soils found in forested areas and are commonly known as peat, muck, bogs or fens.

Borrowing from the USDA soil taxonomy, Inceptisols are light colored soils with moderate alteration, occurring under cool and cold climates. These soils would be found in the Eastmarch caldera.

Luvisols are associated with forested landscapes overlying loamy glacial till, or on clayey lacustrine deposits. Lake Honrich dominates a large portion of the Rift, according to UESP, seemingly draining from the lake. I believe this to be the site of a melted glacier, the lake being meltwater. Clay sediments are associated with lakes because of their deposition, coarser sediments bordering the lake near the shore, and finer particles at the deepest reaches. Additionally, at the end of the Karth river, where sandy deposits would be deposited at Solitude, before the stream looses power further down the river, leaving only clay to be deposited.

Podzols are associated with igneous parent materials, coniferous vegetation and high acidity. Primarily they are found in Falkreath Hold and Southern Eastmarch.

Brunisols are an intermediate stage between Regosols (undeveloped soils), and Podzol or Luvisols. I believe with the unstable, mountainous landscape of the Reach, soils would remain still rather undeveloped. Brunisols would also be interspersed among the Luvisols.

[reasonsforhope]

"Namibia is the driest country in Sub-Saharan Africa, and home to two of the world’s most ancient deserts, the Kalahari and the Namib. The capital, Windhoek, is sandwiched between them, 400 miles away from the nearest perennial river and more than 300 miles away from the coast. Water is in short supply.

It’s hard to imagine life thriving in Windhoek, yet 477,000 people call it home, and 99 per cent of them have access to drinking water thanks to technology pioneered 55 years ago on the outskirts of the city. Now, some of the world’s biggest cities are embracing this technology as they adapt to the harshest impacts of climate change. But Namibia leads the way.

How did this come about? In the 1950s, Windhoek’s natural resources struggled to cope with a rapidly growing population, and severe water shortages gripped the city. But disaster forced innovation, and in 1968 the Goreangab Water Reclamation Plant in Windhoek became the first place in the world to produce drinking water directly from sewage, a process known as direct potable reuse (DPR). 

That may sound revolting, but it’s completely safe. Dr Lucas van Vuuren, who was among those who pioneered Windhoek’s reclamation system, once said that “water should not be judged by its history, but by its quality”. And DPR ensures quality. 

This is done using a continuous multi-barrier treatment devised in Windhoek during eight years of pilot studies in the 1960s. This process – which has been upgraded four times since 1968 – eliminates pollutants and safeguards against pathogens by harnessing bacteria to digest the human waste and remove it from the water. This partly mimics what happens when water is recycled in nature, but Windhoek does it all in under 24 hours...

Pictured: These ultrafiltration membranes help to remove bacteria, viruses and pathogens. Image: Margaret Courtney-Clarke

“We know that we have antibiotics in the water, preservatives from cosmetics, anti-corrosion prevention chemicals from the dishwasher,” Honer explains. “We find them and we remove them.”

Honer adds that online instruments monitor the water continuously, and staff ensure that only drinking water that meets World Health Organisation (WHO) guidelines is sent to homes. If any inconsistencies are detected, the plant goes into recycle mode and distribution is halted until correct values are restored. 

“The most important rule is, and was, and always will be ‘safety first’,” says Honer.  The facility has never been linked to an outbreak of waterborne disease, and now produces up to 5.5m gallons of drinking water every day – up to 35 per cent of the city’s consumption.

Namibians couldn’t survive without it, and as water shortages grip the planet, Windhoek’s insights and experience are more important than ever.

Interest from superpowers across the globe

In recent years, delegations from the US, France, Germany, India, Australia, Singapore, and the United Arab Emirates have visited Windhoek seeking solutions to water shortages in their own countries. 

Megadrought conditions have gripped the US since 2001, and the Colorado River – which provides 40 million people with drinking water – has been running at just 50 per cent of its traditional flow. As a result, several states including Texas, California, Arizona and Colorado are beginning to embrace DPR.

Troy Walker is a water reuse practice leader at Hazen and Sawyer, an environmental engineering firm helping Arizona to develop its DPR regulations. He visited Windhoek last year. “It was about being able to see the success of their system, and then looking at some of the technical details and how that might look in a US facility or an Australian facility,” he said. “[Windhoek] has helped drive a lot of discussion in industry. [Innovation] doesn’t all have to come out of California or Texas.”

Pictured: The internal pipes and workings of Namibia's DPR plant. As water becomes scarcer in some parts, countries are looking to DPR for solutions. Image: Margaret Courtney-Clarke

Namibia has also helped overcome the biggest obstacle to DPR – public acceptance. Disgust is a powerful emotion, and sensationalist ‘toilet to tap’ headlines have dismantled support for water reuse projects in the past. Unfortunately, DPR’s biggest strength is also its biggest weakness, as the speed at which water can re-enter the system makes it especially vulnerable to prejudice, causing regulators to hesitate. “Technology has never been the reason why these projects don’t get built – it’s always public or political opposition,” says Patsy Tennyson, vice president of Katz and Associates, an American firm that specialises in public outreach and communications.

That’s why just a handful of facilities worldwide are currently doing DPR, with Windhoek standing alongside smaller schemes in the Philippines, South Africa and a hybrid facility in Big Spring, Texas. But that’s all changing. Drought and increased water scarcity worldwide are forcing us to change the way we think about water. 

Now, the US is ready to take the plunge, and in 2025, El Paso Water will begin operating the first ‘direct to distribution’ DPR facility in North America, turning up to 10m gallons of wasterwater per day into purified drinking water – twice as much as Windhoek. San Diego, Los Angeles, California, as well as Phoenix, Arizona are also exploring the technology."

Of course, DPR is not a silver bullet in the fight against climate change. It cannot create water out of thin air, and it will not facilitate endless growth. But it does help cities become more climate resilient by reducing their reliance on natural sources, such as the Colorado River. 

As other nations follow in Namibia’s footsteps, Windhoek may no longer take the lead after almost six decades in front.

“But Windhoek was the first,” Honer reminds me. “No one can take that away.”"

-via Positive.News, August 30, 2023

[probablyasocialecologist]

Palestinian human rights organizations have shown that one in five Palestinians has been arrested and charged in Israeli military courts since the occupation of the West Bank and the Gaza Strip in 1967. Each year, this figure adds approximately 500–700 Palestinian children, some as young as 12, who are detained and prosecuted in Israeli military courts.

[...] During the ongoing genocidal war across historic Palestine, Israeli carceral violence and arrest campaigns have only intensified. In the months prior to October 7, an approximate 5,200 Palestinians were detained in Israeli prisons. As of mid-March, that number exceeds 9,000. Over the past five months alone, Israeli occupying forces have arrested over 7,600 Palestinians in the West Bank, in addition to an unknown number of detained Gazans. Conditions are worsening for the imprisoned. Immediately following the war’s outbreak, the Israel Prison Service (IPS) placed prisoners in total isolation, prevented them from leaving their cells, and restricted access to water and electricity. The agency ceased providing what had already been poor-quality medical care and has dispensed inadequate food, enacting a starvation campaign against prisoners. Guards inflict violence, torture, and degrading treatment such as reportedly forcing captives to “bark.” IPS also banned visits for family members and delegates from the International Committee of the Red Cross, and severely restricted lawyer visits—cutting prisoners off from the outside world. My research inside Israeli military courts and prison visitation rooms—both as an anthropological researcher and a family member of prisoners—highlights the systematic nature of this violence and its justification through legal codes. Through an intricate web of military laws and orders, Palestinians become racialized—a sociopolitical process through which groups are seen as distinct “races” ordered in a social hierarchy. The Israeli carceral system racializes Palestinians as inherently “criminal” and thus deserving of punishment. Following the occupation of the West Bank and the Gaza Strip in 1967, the Israeli military was vested with the ultimate authority of government, legislation, and punishment over the Palestinian population. This includes prosecuting Palestinians in military courts and charging them under the nearly 1,800 military orders that govern every aspect of daily life: conduct, property, movement, evacuation, land seizures, detention, interrogation, and trial. The orders include provisions for indefinitely detaining Palestinians without charge or trial through a policy inherited from British colonial practices. Over 3,500 Palestinians are being held in this state as of early March. Other provisions regulate the arrest and interrogation of Palestinians and how long they can be denied lawyer visits. With a near 100 percent conviction rate, Israeli military courts hand down absurdly high sentences, sometimes amounting to dozens of life sentences. Torture inside Israeli prisons and detention facilities is sanctioned by Israeli High Court of Justice (HCJ) rulings that permit the exercise of violence under pretexts of “security” and protecting “public order.” Enmeshed within this carceral reality is Israel’s labeling of most Palestinian prisoners as “security prisoners.” This designation masks the political nature of their imprisonment and sanctions violations against them. As opposed to Palestinian “security prisoners,” incarcerated Jewish settler-citizens receive rights such as making telephone calls, going on home visits under guard, the possibility of furlough, and conjugal visits. These rights are denied to the mostly Palestinian security prisoners, who are viewed and racialized from the start as criminals.

26 March 2024

[rufflebuttercup]

drunk words are sober thoughts | spencer reid

summary: spencer’s been, uncharacteristically, ignoring you all day, and you’re determined to find out why. it can't be anything bad, right?

a/n: if i had a nickel for every time my reader got drunk and confessed their feelings for spencer, i’d have two nickels. which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice.

enjoy the fic, and have a fantastic day! <3 requests are open!

note(s): gn!reader & no pronouns used, mention of alcohol, reader gets quite drunk, drunk confessions and kisses

word count: 3,422

Heavy sheets of rain pelted down onto your head as you weaved with purpose through the busy streets. Occasionally, a car would drive through the roadside puddles, creating a cosmic-sized splash that effectively soaked you to the bone. You hadn’t brought a coat. You didn’t think you were going to need one. The sun had still been shining when you’d left your apartment in Quantico. 

After a long, strenuous day at work, you had planned to go home, collapse onto your couch, and work your way through a tub of cookie dough ice cream that you knew was being neglected in the back of your freezer. Instead, you’d hopped onto a train and you’d taken the hour-long journey to Washington DC. 

Spencer had been completely ignoring you, and Spencer was never the type to completely ignore you. Or anyone, for that matter. Spencer was the type to get sassy and downright passive aggressive whenever he was mad at someone - you’d witnessed that first-hand early on in your friendship, and it had practically scarred you for life. This was different, though, and the silence seemed to be much more painful. You’d tried to speak to him multiple times throughout the day, but he’d managed to evade you, and he’d barely even made eye contact with you for more than a millisecond. You didn’t think you’d done anything wrong, but your overthinking, people-pleasing tendencies were starting to rear their ugly head. 

Another car splashed through the puddles at such a breakneck speed that you ended up getting completely soaked. You immediately began to grumble, and your shoes made a squeaky sound as you continued trudging down the street, “Spencer, I am going to kill you.”

Eventually, you found yourself outside of Spencer’s apartment. You crossed your eyes as you watched a water droplet drip from the tip of your nose. You were cold, and damp, and you were very much aware that you were leaving puddles on the carpet. You shuffled in place in the hopes that you didn’t soak one particular spot too much. You knocked on the door, and then you waited, and then you waited some more. You were beginning to wonder if he was even home at all.

Eventually, there was a shuffling noise on the other side of the door, and then you heard a lock being slid out of place. The door cracked open, and Spencer’s head popped out. His eyes widened slightly as he saw you, “Hi.”

“Hi,” you shook your head free of water droplets, making yourself look like a wet dog, “Can I come in?”

Spencer hesitated, and his eyes flickered up and down your figure. For a moment, you were convinced that he was about to slam the door in your face, “Yeah. Come in,” he spoke after a pause, and he shuffled aside, “You must be freezing.”

You nodded at him in gratitude, and you slid past him, “Yeah,” you laughed a little, your teeth chattering. Spencer’s apartment was warm and cozy with the heating system on full blast, a stark contrast to the miserable conditions outside, “You could say that.”

“Hang on. Let me just…” Spencer scampered into a room on the other side of his apartment that you assumed was his bedroom. You could hear him clattering around before he returned a moment later with one of his thread-worn sweaters, “Here.”

You took the sweater from him, and you slipped it over your head. It was big on you. Far too big, actually. But it was warm. That was all you cared about, “Thanks, Spence.”

A silence fell over the two of you. An uncomfortable one. Spencer’s eyes darted around the apartment, making sure to focus on anything except for you, “So…”

You immediately cut him off, “I’ve done something wrong, haven’t I?”

“What?” Spencer started a little at your question, “Of course, you haven’t. Why would you…”

A sudden wave of self-consciousness washed over you, and you fiddled with the hem of the sweater, “You know you can always tell me if I’ve done something wrong,” you began to ramble. It was a trademark you had whenever you were slightly nervous, “I don’t mind. I won’t get mad, or offended, or…”

“Hey. Stop,” it was Spencer’s turn to cut you off, “Why would you think you’ve done anything wrong?”

You sighed, and you ran a hand through your wet hair, “Spence, you’ve been ignoring me all day.”

ꨄ︎

You triumphantly clutched the two movie tickets in your balled up fist, “I did it!”

Derek’s eyes followed the little scraps of paper as you waved them up and down, “Great. What did you do?”

“I got the tickets! I waited all morning for these!” you excitedly shoved them into Derek’s face, almost punching him straight in the nose, “Look!”

“Yeah, I know what movie tickets are,” he swatted your arm away, “What are they for?”

“Mother!” your voice almost came out as an excited squeal, and it was only after Derek raised an eyebrow at you that you realized how strange your words sounded without context, “It’s a South Korean movie. They’re doing a screening of it later this week at a film festival in New York, and they haven’t translated it yet, so it’s still entirely in the original language.”

“I didn’t know you knew Korean.”

“I don’t. At least, not entirely,” you shrugged, “I’m not exactly conversational, but I can understand bits and pieces. I was talking to Spencer about it the other day, and we both decided we’d go together, and…” you paused, eyes narrowing when you saw the smirk Derek was hiding behind his coffee cup, “What?”

“Nothing.”

“No. What?”

Derek took a deliberately slow sip of his coffee, “It’s not my place.”

“That’s quite literally never stopped you before,” you rolled your eyes, “What’s wrong? Do you think it’s a bad idea? I mean, I thought he’d enjoy it.”

Derek hummed in amused agreement, “There’s something he’d enjoy a lot more.”

“Derek. Just…” you were about to respond, but you were interrupted by the chiming of the elevator. Your eyes lit up as Spencer stepped out, “Oh! Spence!” you had to jog to catch up with his quick pace, “Look. I managed to get us those tickets. We can go together!”

“I don’t think I can.”

Spencer’s answer made you falter, and the smile that had been plastered onto your face dropped, “But, I thought you were looking forward to seeing it. I am. It’s not until next week, so…”

“No. It’s fine. You go and see it, though. You’ll enjoy it a lot more on your own, I’m sure.”

You came to a standstill at that, and your mouth hung open as Spencer took a seat at his desk and proceeded to busy himself in a case file that he already had waiting, “What was that?”

Derek sidled up to you, “What was what?”

“That,” you waved your hand in Spencer’s direction, “He brushed me off? I didn’t even do anything.”

“Oh, you definitely did,” Derek took another one of those suspicious sips of his coffee, “Quite a lot, actually.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “Derek,” you warned him, “You sip that coffee like that one more time and it’s going straight out of the window.”

“Hey! This was expensive.”

ꨄ︎

Spencer’s neck began to turn a shade of pink, and the blush seemed to spread all the way up to the tips of his ears, “I haven’t been ignoring you.”

“Don’t deny it Spencer. Please. That makes it worse,” you said, “All day, you’ve been avoiding me. I’ve barely managed to speak two words to you without you escaping into the next room.”

Spencer shuffled a little on the spot, avoiding your eyes, “I guess I didn’t realize.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think you did,” with a sigh, you dramatically flopped onto his couch, “I can’t even believe I’m saying this, but I’d rather you get all passive aggressive with me like you usually do when you’re mad at someone. At least then I’d know that I’d done something wrong.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I’ve obviously done something,” you shot back at him, “You never ignore anyone. Least of all, me. It’s like you suddenly hate me.”

“Hate you? I could never…” Spencer trailed off, and he sat down on the couch beside you. There was an undeniable gap between the two of you that you hated, “You really don’t know what you did, do you?”

“If I did, do you think I’d be here?”

Spencer sighed, “The other night, when we all went out after work,” he started, his tone almost hesitant, “What do you remember?” 

“We went to O'Keeffe's, and Prentiss got us involved in that drinking game that I’m sure she was making up on the spot, and…” you froze, “Oh. Oh no,” you groaned, “Please don’t tell me I did my Backstreet Boys karaoke set.”

The corners of Spencer’s lips twitched into a smirk at that, “It was quite good, actually,” he bit back a laugh, “Some interesting choreography, too.”

You groaned again, and you sank into the couch cushions as you buried your face in your hands, “This is the worst day of my life.”

“That’s it? You don’t remember anything else?”

“No,” you shook your head, peeking at him through your fingers, “What else did I do? Drop some NSYNC into the mix, or something?” your brow furrowed at Spencer’s hesitation, “Spence…”

“You kissed me.”

“What?!”

ꨄ︎

Spencer and Derek were standing out on the busy street, occasionally glancing at the door to O'Keeffe's. The music from inside was still blaring, even though it was 2.am. Most of the team had gone home for the night, leaving only the select few stragglers behind. 

The door to the bar slammed open, and Spencer and Derek immediately looked in the general direction. Derek snorted out a laugh, and Spencer chuckled, “Do you think they’re going to be alright?”

Meanwhile, at the door, you and Penelope were stumbling out onto the street. You had your arms thrown around each other, and it was clear that the two of you were struggling to stay standing. You were both the lightweights of the team, “I love you so much, Pen.”

“I love you, too, my sweet angel,” Penelope let go of you momentarily so she could grab your shoulders and shake you, “You are one of my bestest friends in the whole entire world.”

It was at that moment - the moment where Penelope’s voice got a little too high-pitched and squeaky - that Derek stepped in, “Alright. Let’s pack it up,” he slid in between the two of you, “I think we best get you two home,” it wasn’t a question.

“And you,” Penelope whirled on Derek, prodding him in the chest with her index finger, “You are just the most magnificent person I’ve ever seen,” she cupped his cheeks, squishing them together, “Look at you. You… You magnificent Green god of a man.”

“Mr. Magnificent,” you followed up with a giggle, puffing out your chest and putting on your best impression of Derek, “Look out. Here comes Mr. Magnificent. Watch your doors.”

“Okay. Alright. As much as I’m loving this conversation we’re having,” he took hold of Penelope’s shoulders and firmly began steering her down the street, “You need to go home.”

“Speak soon, my love,” you blew a kiss in the general direction that Derek and Penelope had gone off in, and then you turned to Spencer, “Let’s go!” you dramatically pointed in the vague direction of your apartment and strode off.

“Woah! Hey!” Spencer ran to catch up with you, “You’re not going home on your own.”

“Obviously,” you rolled your eyes, and you grabbed Spencer’s wrist, “You’re coming with me, you silly genius.”

Spencer let out a yelp as you dragged him down the street. He had to apologize profusely to a couple that you almost rammed into, “Slow down,” he called out, “Do you even know where you’re going?”

You paused at that, and you pursed your lips as you tried to string together a coherent thought, “This way!” you bounded off, though Spencer quickly caught your arm.

“You’re going the wrong way.”

“No, I’m not,” you tried to march off once more, but you stopped a few steps away and swiveled on your heel, “Oh.”

Spencer shook his head, an amused smile playing on his lips, “Told you. You’re…”

“We’re going the wrong way!”

“We?!”

For a long moment, you and Spencer wandered through the streets in near silence. The only sound came from you as you hummed a completely out of tune song to yourself. You didn’t live far from O'Keeffe's, and you usually could’ve walked the distance in two minutes. It took you close to ten considering how often you decided to stop and take notice of every little thing that caught your eye. 

At one point, Spencer had to grab your hand and drag you down the street. You didn’t mind that, though. Your skin tingled as he squeezed your hand, and it made you giggle. You always were the type to get too giggly and hyper when you’d had too much to drink.

“Oh, come on,” Spencer stood in front of the elevator in your apartment building, grumbling in frustration at the ‘out of order’ sign that was plastered on the doors, “You have got to be kidding me.”

“It’s broken.”

“I know it’s broken.”

You collapsed onto the stairs with a soft thud. Your eyes were starting to droop from tiredness, “It’s always broken.”

Spencer sighed and turned to you, another one of those amused smiles lighting up his face as he saw you staring at the ceiling - even though you were staring at absolutely nothing, “Are you even capable of using the stairs right now?”

“I will be if you carry me.”

“I’m not carrying you,” Spencer gently tugged your arm, “Come on. What floor is your apartment on?”

“Tenth.”

“Oh, for…” he quickly cut himself off, and he pulled you to your feet as he began guiding you up the stairs almost one step at a time, “Alright. Come on, then. Let’s get you home.”

“I don’t want to,” you whined, tugging on his hand, “No. No. I have a secret.”

If you weren’t being so cute, then Spencer would’ve been exasperated by this point. You clearly needed your bed, and he so desperately wanted his, “What is it?”

“It’s a secret,” you giggled, and you beckoned him closer, “Come here. Let me whisper it.”

“Fine,” Spencer rolled his eyes affectionately, and he took a step closer, “Can you tell me now?”

“No,” you grabbed his jacket, tugging him so close that his face was right against yours, “There. Close enough,” you giggled once more, and you leaned in so close that your lips were almost on his ear, “I want to kiss you.”

Spencer’s reaction was as if someone had burned him with a hot iron. He took a step back, and his expression was one of pure, unadulterated shock, “You… You want to…” it wasn’t often that you saw Spencer at a loss for words, “You want to kiss me?!”

You hummed in response, and you clapped your hands excitedly, “Yeah! Can I kiss you?” you asked, bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet, “Because I really want to kiss you.”

Spencer’s mouth opened and closed as if he were a fish out of water. It made you laugh harder than you already were, “I… I…” Spencer fumbled over his words for a few more seconds, but then he seemed to collect himself. He straightened up, and despite the blush painting his cheeks, his shocked expression morphed into one of delight, “Yeah. Okay. You can kiss me.”

The next noise out of your mouth was a squeal, “Yay!” you barely gave him a chance to prepare himself before you grabbed his collar and pressed your lips to his. You felt fireworks exploding in your mind, but you weren’t entirely sure if they were because of the kiss or the alcohol. Either way, it was quite possibly one of the best moments of your life.

After a few seconds, the kiss broke. Spencer pulled away first, but he seemed reluctant to do so, “I… That was…”

“That was amazing!” you finished his sentence for him, “I want to do it again. Can we do it again? Pretty please?”

Your plea got a genuine laugh out of Spencer. He was half-tempted to kiss you again, but he shook his head, “No. We’re waiting until you’re sober before we do that again,” he took your arm and began helping you up the stairs, “Come on. You need sleep. You’re going to have the worst hangover in the world tomorrow.”

“No fair. I hate hangovers,” you whined. You were interrupted when you tripped on the stairs and almost face planted right into the carpet. It was pure luck Spencer caught you before you did, “Ow. Who put that there?”

ꨄ︎

“Oh my God,” all you could really do was stare at Spencer with your mouth wide open. It was a wonder your face wasn’t burning, “Spence, I…” everything made so much sense - the strange glances, the teasing comments, all of it - “I am so sorry. I…”

“No. No. Don’t be sorry,” Spencer quickly reassured you, and he placed a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to try and ease the nerves that were creeping through your tone. He closed the distance between you, too, which you appreciated. At least he didn’t hate you, “You don’t have to apologise. I… I didn’t mind.”

You thought you’d finally managed to get over the first wave of shock, but then it all hit you once again, “You didn’t?”

From the moment you’d first walked into the BAU on your very first day, you’d fancied Spencer more than you’d ever fancied anyone ever before. You couldn’t explain it. Then, as your working relationship turned into an actual outside-of-work friendship, you decided it was easier to keep quiet about your feelings for him than risk ruining the good relationship that the two of you already had. 

“But… But I was drunk, and…”

Spencer quirked an eyebrow up at that, “Are you saying you didn’t mean it?”

“No. Of course, I meant it,” you corrected him, immediately faltering when you saw that smug smirk on his face, “Shut up,” it was hard to act annoyed when the goofiest grin imaginable was taking over your face, “I didn’t think you’d actually kiss me.”

Spencer let out a soft laugh, “Yeah, well. You were pretty insistent. It’s hard to say no to you,” he rubbed his shoulder, wincing a little, “I’m pretty sure you almost broke my shoulder after you shoved me against the door and demanded I kiss you again.”

At that, you sunk as far as you could into the couch cushions as if you were willing to disappear into them, “I hate you,” you attempted to weakly swat at him.”

“Your drunk self says otherwise,” Spencer laughed, deflecting your swat and catching your hand instead, “To be honest, if you hadn’t lost every single one of your inhibitions that night, I’m pretty sure we’d still be calling this a friendship.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, “Oh? Is that not what this is?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer countered, “Do you usually go around kissing your best friends?”

“Personally, no. But I don’t judge, so…” you trailed off, and your eyes flitted to Spencer’s lips for a brief second, “So, if I clearly didn’t mind, and you didn’t mind, then does that mean I get to kiss you again? Sober, this time, obviously.”

"Yeah. I suppose that’s exactly what this means,” Spencer scooted a little closer, and now the gap between the two of you was non-existent, “It’s good to know that you’ll actually remember this one.”

You giggled at that comment. You sounded as if you were on cloud nine, and you definitely felt it, too, “Yeah. Me too. I can’t believe I don’t even remember our first kiss,” Spencer was about to kiss you, but you placed a hand on his chest to stop him, “You’re definitely not mad at me, though, right?”

Spencer chuckled, and he shook his head, “You’re impossible. Of course, I’m not mad.”

“Good. Just checking,” you took your hand off his chest, instead choosing to place it on his hip, “You can kiss me now.”

[shutit-haha]

"Katsuki," you swayed, "I think I might have been roofied."

"What!?" He gives himself whiplash from how fast he turns, neck cracking and muscles giving a slight pull. The two of you are in some damn frat house because someone invited you and you REALLY wanted to go. Knowing full well that you would stay here for an hour tops, half-hour if everything was already in full swing. This was certainly knew though, I mean 45 minutes in and you've been ROOFIED!

"I said," you leaned against him. Closing your eyes and attempting to take deep breaths even though those very same breaths seemed to make it feel worse. "Sorry Kat," you grabbed at him tightly with your hand. "My stomach's getting all swirly."

He goes into full fucking panic mode. His large hands wraps around your arm a little too tightly dragging you into the crowd with him. He's moving like a fucking linebacker just shoving whoever's in his way. The blonde takes a sharp left turn around a corner yanking you into a hallway with him. The lights here are shut off making it damn near pitch black. His shoulder slams into strangers making out and dry humping and the two of you cringe at the moans that come from the many bedrooms. The floor underneath your feet is sticky, and with the way you feel right now it's a fight just to rip yourself off the wood. Your muscles feel heavy, eyes barely open. The world keeps swirling and spinning, bright colors popping out at you even in the darkness. There's this terrible throbbing between your legs, making your thighs tremble slightly.

"Kat," you whine. He kicks open the bathroom door throwing out the couple currently occupying the space.

"Yea," he gently guides you over to the toilet bowl. "Wait actually don't fucking touch anything in here, it's all disgusting. Bastards don't know how to fuckin act." He's tugging you out into the hallway again, the couple from just a few seconds ago scurrying back in.

"Katsuki," your legs are struggling to keep up. You feel weak in the knees, stumbling over yourself as a result. Your hearing comes and goes, a war between absolute silence and migraine inducing noise. "Bakugo I can't," air escapes you in huffed breaths. "I can't keep up, please," you beg him.

The blonde -still rushing for a reason you don't understand anymore- scoops you up in his arms. "I'm gonna get that shit out of your system, and kill that asshole. Fuckin scum, piece of shit doesn't deserve to walk the earth." He grumbles clutching on to you even tighter. Your brain is so fuzzy you giggle at his silly words. "What," he looks down at you for a quick second.

"Hot, Kat. Tired," you yawn. Moving with large strides Bakugo carries the two of you out of the fraternity. You shiver the moment the cool air hits your sweating skin. "Cold," you whine curling into him and wrapping tightly around his neck. The poor man chokes with the grip you've got him in. How the hell is he expected to breath in a condition like this?! Not only that but you're pressed flush against him with the way you've twisted yourself around.

"HAH, didn't you jus' fuckin say you where hot?!"

"I'm hot on the inside Katsuki," you screech and wail. You say it like it's common knowledge and it kills him a little. "Wait," your hands fly outward. "I got throw up." The man damn near drops you, only half careful of how he's handling you. Your feet hit the ground and you bend at the ankles and then knees. Just as you're situated it all hurls itself back up. It's ok though, because he's here to hold back your hair for you.

"Gotta get your dumbass home," he mumbles under his breath. You whine bringing your hand up to your mouth to wipe away the mess, only for Bakugo to grab at your wrist. "Don't you fuckin' dare, that shit's gross."

"How am I supposed to clean myself," you look up at him with big blown pupils. Your lashes leave long shadows on your face from the streetlight, lips puffy from whatever drug was forced into your system. There's water lining the bottom of your eyes, a result from emptying your guts, and you're still so hot.

"Just hold on a minute, dammit." His head whips around in search of something, though to no one's surprise there's not much to clean with on the front lawn. His eyes fix onto the door, resignation settling in. "Don't you fucking move from here," he points down at you aggressively. "Do you understand?"

You nod absentmindedly, hand coming up to your mouth once again.

"Don't do that shit! Just sit still dammit, I'll be right back." He hates having to run back into that fucking mess of a party. It reeks worse than it did before, the odor much more noticeable after breathing in some fresh fucking air. He fears that if he makes the wrong step he'll roll his ankle from the sticky floor, and then theirs all the bodies. These jiggling, sweaty bodies, in sync and yet still so far off beat. He's quick, bulldozing through all those extras to get to where he's going. You've been fucking drugged by one of these damn creeps and part of Bakugo worries that they'll find you while you're all alone out there.

"Katsuki," big gooey smile, when he emerges back outside. A shiver racks through him, the cold catching him off guard. He immediately steels himself right afterward determined not to let it happen again. "Katsuki," you sing, "kat-suki, suki, kat. kat, suki," you giggle and then smile. You're clearly out of your damn mind, body rocking back and forth while your hands grip onto your ankles tightly. You look like a fucking kindergartener, at the thought of that he snorts.

"Here," he throws the whole paper towel roll at you.

"Thank yoou," more singing, and an even bigger grin.

He only spares you a couple seconds to clean yourself before he's yanking you up onto your feet. The rough skin of his hand wraps around your elbow, and you stumble right into his side. The roll is hugged close to your buddy like some sort of stuffed animal, thighs pressed together tightly. "Can you carry me again?" Your eyes fall shut sleepily, cheek resting against his hard shoulder.

"Hah!?"

"Please," your hip presses against his now. "Please, I'll kiss you if you'll do it for me."

"Don't say that shit," his cheeks dust pink like a school boy.

You giggle, "I'll kiss you even if you don't pick me up." Paper towel roll still pressed against your chest, you lean into him lips grazing under his jaw. "I wanna kiss you," you hum breathing in his scent.

"Don't say that shit!"

"But I wanna kiss someone," you whine.

"Someone?"

"Anyone," you kiss the flesh at his jaw and neck.

"That shit's getting to you."

You nod absentmindedly again, placing another kiss on his warm skin. "Mhm, I think so."

"I'm taking you home," he bends at the knees slightly begrudgingly picking you up.

"Mmmm," you hum, "I like the sound of that."

He squeezes your thighs harshly receiving a slight hiss from you. "Gotta fucking behave if I'm gonna be doing this shit for you. Not gonna fucking baby you for you to be a brat."

Your arms wrap around his neck bringing yourself as close to him as possible. That damn paper towel roll still smooshed between the two of you. "Does that mean you're gonna punish me?" It was said so innocently, still made his cock twitch.

"Don't say that shit," he growls at you, jostling your body as a way of adjusting himself.

"I'm sorry," you kiss his neck, "I'm sorry."

"Don't do that shit either."

"But," you grind against his abs, "I need to feel something."

"Not me! Take care of yourself later," the thought of you touching yourself quickly popped into his head. Once again he was jostling you to adjust his pants.

"You feel so good," another innocent comment as you grind yourself against him.

"What's I say about behaving," he snaps at you.

"But you said to take care of myself."

"Later!"

"Are you gonna punish me now?"

Thank god the car was coming into view. "Oi! I'll fucking drop you!" He hakes his head, "the hells your obsession with that shit."

You shrug, "like how your hands feel on my ass." Another kiss to his neck, and then your hips jolt on their own grinding against his hard abs. This time you just can't stop yourself, the pit of your stomach feels like it's on fire and the way your muscles are contracting- you just have to. You need too.

"Hey," some part of his subconscious had clearly been paying attention to you. The part about his hands, and the punishment, because his hand came up and then down in one sudden slap. You could hear it whoosh in the air, and then that crackle when it met your rear. You stilled, moaning and arching your back. He nearly fucking dropped you, the one hand holding you completely unprepared for that hell of an arch.

"Fuck," you panted. Your lips kissed a trail up his neck and then nipped the skin behind his ear. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry d-" You bit your lip, suppressing what so desperately wanted to be said.

He fucking dropped you.

Your legs where shaky, knees buckling soon as your feet hit the floor. You expected to fall onto your knees just like you did on the lawn, but he slammed you up against the car. Your back roughly hit the metal, one hand keeping your hip trapped against it, the other hand keeping hold of your wrist. "You're driving me fucking crazy you know that," he spat in your face. His breath fanned against your skin, eyes burning. "I have no clue what that fucker gave you but-"

You kissed him, hips wiggly in his hand in search of friction. He bit your bottom lip, teeth sinking into plush, your back arched. "Fuck me, please. Please just fuck me, swear I'll stop after that. It'll make it stop just fuck me please just-"

He leaned back in, mouths smashing together, teeth clinking just before he forces his tongue in catching a taste of your mouth. Aphrodisiac, "bastard gave you a fucking rape drug."

You shake your head, hips wiggling with more vigor. "No want it," you breath heavily, "want it."

He shoves you aside, opening the passenger door for you, "just the drug."

"No," you're crying now. Hand venturing down to your waist band to give yourself some kind of relief. "Want you," you bite your lip when your hand grazes your clit. "I-" pant, "want you." All your weight is held up by the car, eyes shut to better see the fantasies. "Fuck," you groan.

He doesn't know what to do, he's kind of just watching you. It feels gross, feels wrong but, fuck he likes it. Mouth agape while you fuck yourself to him. It's not real. He's gonna wale up. It's just a wet dream, a movie.

"Wanted you since-" gulp, "that compression shirt, at the- at the gym." You whimper at that, "sweat, nipples were hard." Your eyes open all half lidded and hazy, pupils having consumed whatever color was once there. Your sclera isn't even visible anymore. "You're such a whore," as if your fucking pussy wasn't literally squelching right now.

That was it for him, you weren't gonna fucking insult him like that. As if you were some fucking saint. Yeah, right. He slams the passenger door shut, the back door flying open followed by him quickly shoving you into the car. Your back bounces on the leather seats, one hand quickly rushing to yank down your pants and underwear. The burly man climbs in right after you moving with quick hast, he shuts the door behind him with another loud slam.

"Keep that fucking mouth shut," hand squeezing a the sides of your throat. He's fucked once or twice, never like this. In the back of his car, cock aching, in such a hurry. With the way you were acting it seems like it's only take a couple strokes before you tapped out, you had already been edging yourself in a way. (I mean with you grinding and whatever else and him stopping you every other five seconds.)

He unbuttons his jeans, briefly thinking about turning on the air-conditioning only to decide against it. Fuck it, let the windows fog up. (That'd be new too.) Katsuki doesn't even unzip his pants he just tugs at the sides and forces the zipper to go down itself. You brely catch a glimpse of his boxers before those too are tugged down his muscled thighs. Damn gym rat.

He rudely slaps away the hand you have between your legs, only to smack his dick against your clit. "Condom," you mutter.

"Didn't I say to shut up," it's a nasty snarl, yet still you have the balls to smile at him.

"Please," you spread your legs for him.

"Didn't bring one," fuck please don't tell him this is what's gonna cock block him. He'll fucking destroy this car with the amount of anger that wants to blow. Yet you ever so seductively reach into your bra and pull one out.

"Here." You take it between your teeth tearing at the packaging while he pumps himself. You pass it over to him, the wrapper gracefully falling somewhere underneath the seat, condom rolled on in a blink. No prep, just his dick getting shoved into you.

It's a stretch, a painful, hissing stretch. Your tugging at his shirt pulling it off of him while you adjust, his hands sliding up and under to unhook your bra. "Move," it's a command, an order. And despite his big fucking ego, he listens to you. One large hand placed next to your head, the either forcing your shirt up as it ghost over your body. Your scratching at his back, and rubbing his scalp. It's an odd combo of pain and pleasure for the both of you as a result. "More," you're shouting now, "more," you gasp.

"Take your shirt off," his voice is gravelly and out of breath. The hand once fondling with your breast is now gripping under your thigh. It's pushing your legs up and up and up, till they're resting right on top of his strong shoulders. Your pussy clenches around him upon feeling the muscle moving under your legs. His mouth comes down to suck your right nipple, eyes staring dead into yours.

Fuck you're cuming, quick with his name on your tongue. "Not fuckin' done," he groans, grinding into you with another thrust. "Don't even think about movin' didn't-" He hisses, "fuck, didn't get to cum yet." Another grind and then he's bringing a calloused finger to your clit.

"Katsuki..."

"Yeah baby," it's low and husky, drawing more slick from you.

"Was lying about the condom." He gives you a harsh thrust at that, clearly fucking pissed. "Don't give a shit about it," he nearly pulls all the way out to slam back in. "Just wanted to-"

"Get to the fuckin' point," other hand squeezing at your throat.

"Want you to come in me," you're fucking yelling. "Please," begging.

"Fuck baby, that's enough to make me come on the spot."

You whine at that, "no."

"No?"

"No, please. Inside please."

He pulls out, smirking when he sees how your walls clench around the empty space. "Missing me," he teases rolling off the condom carelessly dropping it onto the floor. In a snap he's back in, three strokes and then he's gone.

The liquid is fucking hot, it's scorching. You wanna taste, wish you would have gotten the chance to. The thought of that has your walls fluttering and coming a second time. Your eyes are all dazed and glossy, hair sticking to your neck and forehead. Carefully Katsuki pulls your shaking legs off his shoulders, while your hand reaches up to push his hair out of your face. "Fuck you're a brat," your lip tint smeared all over his lips.

It makes you smile all soft and gooey. "I'm tired now."

He snorts, pulling your underwear back onto you. "'Course you are," he tugs on his boxers and jeans. "Don't let any of that shit spill out you understand me?" He's pointing at you, face back to that scowl. You nod, pulling your pants back on. The both of you tug on your shirts, he moves to the front while you remain laying in the back. You find a sweater of his and tug it on while he starts the car, rolling down the windows to air the thing out.

"We're doing that shit at least one more time," he says pulling the car out of park.

"You're place or mine," you smile at him through the rearview mirror.

[comicaurora]

Sorry to drop a hella irl-political question on your mostly webcomic blog, but have you/any of the OSP gang heard of/been participating in the week-long strike for palestine that's been (presumably) all over tumblr/the internet?

For some background info: Following the attack on Oct. 7th by the hamas militant group (a terrorist org. Or resistance group, depending who you ask), the state of israel (which is practically a mass colonial settlement on Palestinian land since '48) has taken the attack as an excuse to indiscriminately bomb the homes of thousands if not millions of homes while forcebly displacing almost all of the ~2.3 million people crammed in the gaza strip with no escape.

'Israel' has also tightened it's blockade on the strip of land such that a growing majority of people there are experiencing catastrophic starvation, disease from sewage-infested drinking water (as water aid is too scarce). Soon even deaths by preventable causes such as diabetes will occur since insulin pens for children have been blocked from entering by israel, who controls gaza's borders, water, power, food supplies, and shoreline. Civilians in Gaza are very frequently and indiscriminately killed often in places they were told were safe zones to evacuate to. It's agreed upon by both experts and laymen worldwide that what is happening (and has BEEN happening before Oct.7th) is nothing short of genocide.

In the occupied Palestinian west bank, where there is no hamas whatsoever to use as an excuse, Palestinians are still arrested without a fair trial for years, abused, prevented from using certain roads, shot, and often straight-up have their houses stolen by armed or military-backed israeli settlers (many of whom have no ancestral connection to the land at all) in a system often compared to or outright stated to be apartheid.

Very recently, a journalist in Gaza by the name of Bisan Owda called for a strike from January 21st to January 28th. The conditions of the strike can be paraphrased as:

Cease all unnecessary purchases or payments, avoid generating ad revenue when possible

Do not go to work or school if you can possibly avoid it

Pay for things only in cash if you must

Use social media exclusively to flood the internet with palestinian voices and resources about the ongoing genocide against the palestinian people

Attend protests if you can

Be visible.

It's the 26th now, but joining late would be far better than to not join at all and stay silent.

I figured I'd ask since since OSP has covered various topics about history and/or politics and we're kinda watching some awful history unfolding, the kind of history where neutrality doesn't really work and a side needs to be taken.

Opinions? (Sorry if I'm coming across as condescending! I just really want my favorite blogs to be aware and take a stance rather than being silent hhhghf)

Okay, here's my answer.

OSP has been supporting calls for a ceasefire for months, and we were fundraising in direct support of it via Doctors Without Borders all through November and December. Total, we raised over $30,000. If we include the UNICEF fundraiser we ran on the Spider-Man streams, the total is over $40,000.

During our charity livestreams, we have made our positions clear – we support a ceasefire, Israel is perpetuating settler-colonialist violence and has been for decades, Hamas is a terrorist organization that endangers Israelis and Palestinians alike, the innocent people of both Palestine and Israel deserve safety and peace. We concluded that the best thing we could do under the circumstances was empower those who are in a real position to actually help by providing funding for their work. We believe this is significantly more beneficial than adding Another Angry Internet Post to the pile of insular outrage on Internet Land. Fundraising for the organizations with boots on the ground feels like it does a lot more good than being loud online for the benefit of other online people.

This is not the first time I've heard reference to the strike, but it is the first time I've seen the parameters of the strike laid out, which to me indicates that it wasn't spread as widely or effectively as it could've been.

I understand and appreciate why you sent this ask, but your premise worries me. I know this may surprise and startle us denizens of the internet, but being extremely loud on the internet is not the only or the most effective form of activism, and people not being extremely loud on the internet with every account they have is not the same thing as silent complicity in war crimes, and people acting like those two things are the same thing has been unbelievably frustrating to watch.

If we act like everything is a binary moral choice between "scream your loudest, most angry opinions online every time you feel angry about them" and "not doing that is literally the same thing as participating in genocide", we are creating a very strong pressure to flood the internet with our angriest, most unformed thoughts, lest we be branded as complicit in war crimes. Social media sites live and die on engagement, hence why twitter has rapidly trended towards doomscrolling and encouraging inflammatory clickbait - angry shouty people are traffic and traffic is money. The cynical part of me is utterly unsurprised that social media encourages the idea that the only true form of activism is being loud on social media.

It sounds like you had the feeling that sending me this ask was weird and a boundary overstep, and you were correct. My platform is not world-changing or in any way politically powerful beyond our ability to create charity fundraisers for causes we believe in, and we are doing what we can to help in the tiny ways that we can from halfway across the world, from a position of absolutely zero political weight beyond emailing our representatives. You are just asking me to also shout about it online loudly enough that I measure up to an artificial loudness metric, because my existing shouting was not already loud or omnipresent enough.

You are not entitled to know every thought in my head or every action I take in my life. I am not online to perform outrage and live up to an arbitrary moral standard of Shouting Enough. I am especially not online on my fantasy webcomic blog to do those things. Please understand that what you see of me is what I choose to share, and I am under no obligation, moral or otherwise, to share more.